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Matt stumbles upon a ring that lets him possess people.
Heavily inspired by the writing.com story The Possession Spell, but nerfed so the one with the power isn't in absolute control of everything.
My name's Matt. That day was meant to be just another day.. but it turned very weird, and very interesting.
It would have been about 5pm when I walked into my apartment. It was convenient, since it was close enough to college, yet wasn't super expensive or loud. Plus I could walk to all the fun parties.
Anyway, I walked in to see my girlfriend, Mira, sitting on the couch. I always thought she was cute in an exotic way - she was short, petite, with black hair and dark brown eyes. She was half Japanese, which is why I think I found her so attractive. Today, she was looking at me in a very unusual way. Not like her at all.
"Hey... Matt" she said hesitantly. Oh shit, I thought. Was she breaking up with me?
"Hi?" I said carefully.
"So I have something to tell you..." Shit. It's really happening. I think she saw the look on my face, and quickly added "Oh no don't worry, nothing is wrong. We're still good. It's just... this is so weird."
Relieved, I approached her and noticed she was wearing a ring. She never wore jewelry like that. "So, nice ring..." I said.
"Yeah that's what I wanted to talk to you about. Actually..." she started, getting up and walking over to me. I walked closer and took her hand. She flinched as I began to examine the ring, still on her finger. As I went to pull it off... "No!"
The ring was half off, and I felt a force - not unlike a blast of wind - hit me. "Fine!" I slipped the ring back on... and blacked out.
---
I awoke in bed a short while later. Mira was sitting on the edge of the bed, playing with what appeared to be the ring she had been wearing.
"Ugh, what happened?" I asked, feeling a trace of a headache.
"Oh, you're up. I have to tell you something..." Mira said. "It's this ring. It's... magic or something."
"Huh?" I asked.
"Yeah. When you walked in... that wasn't actually me. Well it was... but not quite." I was confused, so I just let her continue. "This ring lets someone take over someone else's body..."
"Sure it does." I joked.
"I'm serious!" Mira insisted. "I walked into your apartment maybe 10 minutes before you were meant to be home. Then I blacked out. When I came to... I was you."
"So is that why I blacked out?" I asked.
"Probably. I gotta say it was a shock for sure. That and Alan was on the couch and looked pretty scared. He explained everything though.
"Alan was... wait was that him inside you?" The pieces were coming together.
"Yeah. But he didn't do anything. He said he had only just found the ring today, and was gonna show you. But I walked in first and..."
"He took over your body."
"Yup" she said.
"So... how did it feel?" I asked. "Being me?"
"Well I honestly was just freaked, so I took the ring off as soon as I got to your bed. That kicked me right out." A grin formed on Mira's face. "Let me tell you, though."
She slipped the ring on, and disappeared from sight. Then, predictably, I blacked out.
---
That time, when I woke up, it was morning. I also felt... like I had just jerked off.
"Good morning!" Mira said as she walked out of the bathroom. She seemed in a very good mood.
"Uhh... morning?" I said.
"So I have an answer for you." Mira said while grinning. "Being you was hot!"
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Well I jumped into your body last night, took a nice long shower... if you know what I mean, hope you don't mind. Then I went to sleep, and went for another round in the morning." She explained, grin not letting up. "Gotta day it felt a lot different than it usually does for me..."
I was shocked. Taking advantage of this, she winked. "Well I have to go now... you're still coming over tonight, aren't you?" Then she waved and skipped out of my room.
"Huh..." I said, still processing what had just happened. I didn't mind so much since it was Mira, and - I mean - we'd done plenty together already.
I was taken out of my thoughts by a knock on the door. "Yeah?" I called out, and saw Alan meekly walk in.
"Hey man..." he started.
"This about the ring?" I asked, hiding some irritation.
"Yeah... look, I'm sorry I took over Mira. But it was an accident... and it was only for a couple of minutes." He really did look sorry.
"Well all's well I guess.. but she left with the ring.
"She what?" Alan cried out.
"Yeah. I'm going to her place later, but she had plans for the rest of the day."
Alan continued to complain, but eventually gave up. The whole day was spent in anticipation. I'd never really wondered about how it feels for girls, but I couldn't help but be a little curious now that the opportunity might be there.
---
Later that evening, I pulled up to Mira's place and rang the doorbell. It opened and I was greeted by her busty roommate Alison, blonde hair wet, wearing nothing but a pink bathrobe.
"Hi sexy..." she purred, moving in such a way that only made it obvious that she was naked under her robe - not that it was hidden before.
"Uh.. hi Ali." I stammered. "Sorry... I'm here to see Mira."
"Mira isn't here..." she purred, exposing one long leg through the robe, "but I'll happily take care of you instead..."
I felt my face flush red, and attempted to navigate around Alison and get to Mira's room. She grabbed my hand with hers, and I noticed a sparkle on her hand. The ring.
"Should have guessed it was you, Mira" I said.
Alison's demeanor shifted instantly, and she started laughing. "You should have seen your face... you were so adorably awkward!"
"You expected otherwise?"
"Well no... I've just been inside Ali all day today, just lounging around. Thought I'd have some fun with you first." Mira-in-Alison explained.
"So was that it?" I asked. Mira laughed and not-so-subtly let the robe slip off her borrowed figure and down to the floor. I stared at Alison's exposed chest for a second before I was dragged into her bedroom.
Alison's body was very different from Mira's - she was tall, blonde, curvy, while Mira was short and petite. Needless to say, when Mira was in control of Alison's body, sex was fucking awesome. I won't go into detail, but knowing that my Mira was inside her sexy (ok. I admit it) roommate just made it even better. After we were done, I lay on top of her and just fondled her tits.
"Babe that felt so good in her body..." Mira purred. "And these big boobs feel so nice when you squeeze them like that..."
"It's just hard to believe it's you in there, babe" I replied. "But I sure as hell aren't complaining!" Mira laughed and grinned at me.
"Well now that we've done that I can't leave her right now... want to go for another round?" She winked at me. I felt my dick grow hard at the thought. "Or I could just give you a blowjob..." Mira offered.
Let's just leave it at the fact that the evening was a lot of fun.
---
The next morning, Mira shooed me out of Alison's bed. A couple of minutes after I jumped on Mira's bed, she appeared next to me. As herself this time.
"Whoa, don't scare me like that!" I muttered. She smiled one of her trademark cheeky smiles. "That was fun last night."
"Sure was! Blondes really do have more fun!" She grinned. "Speaking of..." she winked at me, and placed the ring into my hand. I looked at her. "Well, go on! Put it on and go jump into Alison!"
Hardly believing my ears, I slipped on the ring. It was a rush, to be sure. I suddenly felt weightless. Looking down at myself I understood why. I was floating, and completely transparent! I looked around and experimented with my movement. It was surprisingly easy. I leaned in the direction of Alison's room, and floated off.
When I got there (through the walls!) I saw her lying in her bed, dressed in a nightie that she definitely hadn't been wearing at night, and was scrolling on her phone. Well, this was it. I swooped down and lowered my ghostly form over her body. I felt a jarring sensation as a shock went through my whole body. The next thing I knew, I was under a warm blanket, holding a phone.
Of course, I immediately dropped the phone. There was something off about the way I was lying down. Flat on my stomach, back slightly arched. I laid my head on the pillow, and felt something large and soft on my chest. I looked down and saw Alison's voluminous chest inside a soft pink nightie. It was odd seeing her tits from this angle now.
I quickly jumped out of bed, hair flying everywhere and feeling a very big jiggle on my chest. I ran to her closet - there was a mirror there, of course - and admired my reflection.
Looking back at me in the mirror was Mira's roommate Alison. Blonde hair cascading down past her shoulders. A pale pink nightie over her impressively large boobs, which left her midriff exposed. Below that, hot pink panties, and nothing else. The best part? Right now, that was me. I let out a giggle - distinctly feminine, I noted - and sauntered up closer to the mirror. Man, I felt sexy inside Alison's skin. Naturally, my hands went to explore my new body. Although I'd gotten pretty familiar with it last night, this was very different. This time it was me, and I was feeling all the foreign sensations from my feminine body as my own. And damn, was it hot!
I let out a slight moan as my new hands caressed my new body. I had to say, it definitely felt a lot better feeling up Alison from inside than from when I was myself. As I reached into Alison's - ahem, my panties - there was a knock at the door, followed by Mira walking in. She saw what I was doing, blushed a little, then recovered.
"I see you're having fun there, babe" she smirked.
"I uh... ah..." I stuttered, and Mira laughed.
"Oh relax! It's not like I didn't do the same in your body. This time I just get to watch it happen to someone else!" she winked at me. "Want some help, Alison?"
I gulped and nodded. Mira came over and ran a hand along my exposed stomach. "You know I'm not normally into chicks, but knowing it's my boyfriend inside there is making me so hot for you right now..." she purred and leaned in for a kiss. Her hand slipped into those same pink panties I had been trying to explore earlier...
All I had to say was wow. Either it was just that the female body felt so good, or just my own arousal, or Mira... whatever it was, that was the hottest sex I'd ever had. Not to mention all the new feelings I got to experience from inside Alison's body.
---
A few hours later, after the high of my orgasms inside Alison had worn off, I exited her body and re-formed back on Mira's bed, with her grinning. "That was fucking amazing!" I said, also grinning.
"Oh I could tell you liked it, babe. I heard..." Mira taunted. "I bet Alan misses this thing..."
"I sure would if I were him!" I said. "But I'm not sure I want to give it up!"
"Tell you what..." Mira said. Then she told me about a plan she had. I put on the ring again, and disappeared.
---
To be continued...
Heavily inspired by the writing.com story The Possession Spell, but nerfed so the one with the power isn't in absolute control of everything.
My name's Matt. That day was meant to be just another day.. but it turned very weird, and very interesting.
It would have been about 5pm when I walked into my apartment. It was convenient, since it was close enough to college, yet wasn't super expensive or loud. Plus I could walk to all the fun parties.
Anyway, I walked in to see my girlfriend, Mira, sitting on the couch. I always thought she was cute in an exotic way - she was short, petite, with black hair and dark brown eyes. She was half Japanese, which is why I think I found her so attractive. Today, she was looking at me in a very unusual way. Not like her at all.
"Hey... Matt" she said hesitantly. Oh shit, I thought. Was she breaking up with me?
"Hi?" I said carefully.
"So I have something to tell you..." Shit. It's really happening. I think she saw the look on my face, and quickly added "Oh no don't worry, nothing is wrong. We're still good. It's just... this is so weird."
Relieved, I approached her and noticed she was wearing a ring. She never wore jewelry like that. "So, nice ring..." I said.
"Yeah that's what I wanted to talk to you about. Actually..." she started, getting up and walking over to me. I walked closer and took her hand. She flinched as I began to examine the ring, still on her finger. As I went to pull it off... "No!"
The ring was half off, and I felt a force - not unlike a blast of wind - hit me. "Fine!" I slipped the ring back on... and blacked out.
---
I awoke in bed a short while later. Mira was sitting on the edge of the bed, playing with what appeared to be the ring she had been wearing.
"Ugh, what happened?" I asked, feeling a trace of a headache.
"Oh, you're up. I have to tell you something..." Mira said. "It's this ring. It's... magic or something."
"Huh?" I asked.
"Yeah. When you walked in... that wasn't actually me. Well it was... but not quite." I was confused, so I just let her continue. "This ring lets someone take over someone else's body..."
"Sure it does." I joked.
"I'm serious!" Mira insisted. "I walked into your apartment maybe 10 minutes before you were meant to be home. Then I blacked out. When I came to... I was you."
"So is that why I blacked out?" I asked.
"Probably. I gotta say it was a shock for sure. That and Alan was on the couch and looked pretty scared. He explained everything though.
"Alan was... wait was that him inside you?" The pieces were coming together.
"Yeah. But he didn't do anything. He said he had only just found the ring today, and was gonna show you. But I walked in first and..."
"He took over your body."
"Yup" she said.
"So... how did it feel?" I asked. "Being me?"
"Well I honestly was just freaked, so I took the ring off as soon as I got to your bed. That kicked me right out." A grin formed on Mira's face. "Let me tell you, though."
She slipped the ring on, and disappeared from sight. Then, predictably, I blacked out.
---
That time, when I woke up, it was morning. I also felt... like I had just jerked off.
"Good morning!" Mira said as she walked out of the bathroom. She seemed in a very good mood.
"Uhh... morning?" I said.
"So I have an answer for you." Mira said while grinning. "Being you was hot!"
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Well I jumped into your body last night, took a nice long shower... if you know what I mean, hope you don't mind. Then I went to sleep, and went for another round in the morning." She explained, grin not letting up. "Gotta day it felt a lot different than it usually does for me..."
I was shocked. Taking advantage of this, she winked. "Well I have to go now... you're still coming over tonight, aren't you?" Then she waved and skipped out of my room.
"Huh..." I said, still processing what had just happened. I didn't mind so much since it was Mira, and - I mean - we'd done plenty together already.
I was taken out of my thoughts by a knock on the door. "Yeah?" I called out, and saw Alan meekly walk in.
"Hey man..." he started.
"This about the ring?" I asked, hiding some irritation.
"Yeah... look, I'm sorry I took over Mira. But it was an accident... and it was only for a couple of minutes." He really did look sorry.
"Well all's well I guess.. but she left with the ring.
"She what?" Alan cried out.
"Yeah. I'm going to her place later, but she had plans for the rest of the day."
Alan continued to complain, but eventually gave up. The whole day was spent in anticipation. I'd never really wondered about how it feels for girls, but I couldn't help but be a little curious now that the opportunity might be there.
---
Later that evening, I pulled up to Mira's place and rang the doorbell. It opened and I was greeted by her busty roommate Alison, blonde hair wet, wearing nothing but a pink bathrobe.
"Hi sexy..." she purred, moving in such a way that only made it obvious that she was naked under her robe - not that it was hidden before.
"Uh.. hi Ali." I stammered. "Sorry... I'm here to see Mira."
"Mira isn't here..." she purred, exposing one long leg through the robe, "but I'll happily take care of you instead..."
I felt my face flush red, and attempted to navigate around Alison and get to Mira's room. She grabbed my hand with hers, and I noticed a sparkle on her hand. The ring.
"Should have guessed it was you, Mira" I said.
Alison's demeanor shifted instantly, and she started laughing. "You should have seen your face... you were so adorably awkward!"
"You expected otherwise?"
"Well no... I've just been inside Ali all day today, just lounging around. Thought I'd have some fun with you first." Mira-in-Alison explained.
"So was that it?" I asked. Mira laughed and not-so-subtly let the robe slip off her borrowed figure and down to the floor. I stared at Alison's exposed chest for a second before I was dragged into her bedroom.
Alison's body was very different from Mira's - she was tall, blonde, curvy, while Mira was short and petite. Needless to say, when Mira was in control of Alison's body, sex was fucking awesome. I won't go into detail, but knowing that my Mira was inside her sexy (ok. I admit it) roommate just made it even better. After we were done, I lay on top of her and just fondled her tits.
"Babe that felt so good in her body..." Mira purred. "And these big boobs feel so nice when you squeeze them like that..."
"It's just hard to believe it's you in there, babe" I replied. "But I sure as hell aren't complaining!" Mira laughed and grinned at me.
"Well now that we've done that I can't leave her right now... want to go for another round?" She winked at me. I felt my dick grow hard at the thought. "Or I could just give you a blowjob..." Mira offered.
Let's just leave it at the fact that the evening was a lot of fun.
---
The next morning, Mira shooed me out of Alison's bed. A couple of minutes after I jumped on Mira's bed, she appeared next to me. As herself this time.
"Whoa, don't scare me like that!" I muttered. She smiled one of her trademark cheeky smiles. "That was fun last night."
"Sure was! Blondes really do have more fun!" She grinned. "Speaking of..." she winked at me, and placed the ring into my hand. I looked at her. "Well, go on! Put it on and go jump into Alison!"
Hardly believing my ears, I slipped on the ring. It was a rush, to be sure. I suddenly felt weightless. Looking down at myself I understood why. I was floating, and completely transparent! I looked around and experimented with my movement. It was surprisingly easy. I leaned in the direction of Alison's room, and floated off.
When I got there (through the walls!) I saw her lying in her bed, dressed in a nightie that she definitely hadn't been wearing at night, and was scrolling on her phone. Well, this was it. I swooped down and lowered my ghostly form over her body. I felt a jarring sensation as a shock went through my whole body. The next thing I knew, I was under a warm blanket, holding a phone.
Of course, I immediately dropped the phone. There was something off about the way I was lying down. Flat on my stomach, back slightly arched. I laid my head on the pillow, and felt something large and soft on my chest. I looked down and saw Alison's voluminous chest inside a soft pink nightie. It was odd seeing her tits from this angle now.
I quickly jumped out of bed, hair flying everywhere and feeling a very big jiggle on my chest. I ran to her closet - there was a mirror there, of course - and admired my reflection.
Looking back at me in the mirror was Mira's roommate Alison. Blonde hair cascading down past her shoulders. A pale pink nightie over her impressively large boobs, which left her midriff exposed. Below that, hot pink panties, and nothing else. The best part? Right now, that was me. I let out a giggle - distinctly feminine, I noted - and sauntered up closer to the mirror. Man, I felt sexy inside Alison's skin. Naturally, my hands went to explore my new body. Although I'd gotten pretty familiar with it last night, this was very different. This time it was me, and I was feeling all the foreign sensations from my feminine body as my own. And damn, was it hot!
I let out a slight moan as my new hands caressed my new body. I had to say, it definitely felt a lot better feeling up Alison from inside than from when I was myself. As I reached into Alison's - ahem, my panties - there was a knock at the door, followed by Mira walking in. She saw what I was doing, blushed a little, then recovered.
"I see you're having fun there, babe" she smirked.
"I uh... ah..." I stuttered, and Mira laughed.
"Oh relax! It's not like I didn't do the same in your body. This time I just get to watch it happen to someone else!" she winked at me. "Want some help, Alison?"
I gulped and nodded. Mira came over and ran a hand along my exposed stomach. "You know I'm not normally into chicks, but knowing it's my boyfriend inside there is making me so hot for you right now..." she purred and leaned in for a kiss. Her hand slipped into those same pink panties I had been trying to explore earlier...
All I had to say was wow. Either it was just that the female body felt so good, or just my own arousal, or Mira... whatever it was, that was the hottest sex I'd ever had. Not to mention all the new feelings I got to experience from inside Alison's body.
---
A few hours later, after the high of my orgasms inside Alison had worn off, I exited her body and re-formed back on Mira's bed, with her grinning. "That was fucking amazing!" I said, also grinning.
"Oh I could tell you liked it, babe. I heard..." Mira taunted. "I bet Alan misses this thing..."
"I sure would if I were him!" I said. "But I'm not sure I want to give it up!"
"Tell you what..." Mira said. Then she told me about a plan she had. I put on the ring again, and disappeared.
---
To be continued...
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A newly married couple find their lives upended when the wife goes to work for a company where all is not as it seems.
Riley Harper was between jobs when she saw the ad. The 21 year old blonde had recently quit as a waitress at a local restaurant. She usually got great tips that she knew was more thanks to her curves than her service, but despised being hit on all the time, especially now that she was newly married. But it wasn’t okay for her to be without a job. Yesterday her husband Ben came home early from his factory. Apparently he’d been furloughed for at least 3 weeks. They didn’t have any sort of savings that would keep them in the black longer than a couple of weeks, so Riley stepped up.
She got on her phone and began job hunting, but quickly grew frustrated by how similar they were to every job she’d had before. Cashier, hostess, server, retail sales specialist. She wasn’t qualified for much else, but just once she’d like to do something that didn’t involve wearing a name tag. That’s when she came across the ad for Del Corp.
Riley clicked on it, and read about a company that was a bit of a drive away. An hour. But it paid eighty thousand dollars a year. That was four times what her last job paid! Del Corp was looking for people who could do simple data entry, and no degree was required. Then the best yet. They would let you work from home 4 of the 5 days a week! This suddenly seemed too good to be true, but what the hell. For the hope of that much money, she’d take her chances.
Riley looked for a place to begin filling out her application online, but then read that the application and interview process would only be done in person, and that candidates would be seen during a small window later this week.
So that Friday, Riley found herself an hour away with a clipboard in her lap, filling out a paper application. She’d just written her new name and still got a thrill from it a whole five weeks later. That’s how long she’d been married. Her mind drifted to Ben, standing there all handsome in his tux, looking at her like she was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen. Her blonde, shoulder length hair had been adorned with flowers. Her face hidden behind her veil. She’d always cherish the moment when he’d lifted it over her head and mouthed, ‘Wow.’ She hadn’t been able to stop smiling. The butterflies had been nonstop that magical day, and they returned quickly every time she thought about it.
She loved being Mrs. Ben Harper. Loved being married. She was at the part of the application that asked for the relationship status. Married or single. With a bit of a flourish, she brought her pen over the box that said married. She hovered over it dramatically. She was about to make an indelible x, when the applicant to her right, a pretty brunette, cleared her throat.
“Don't,” she whispered. “Check single, or you don't stand a chance.”
“Excuse me?” Riley whispered back. Companies were not legally allowed to hire people based on whether they were married or not.
The brunette scanned the room, making sure no other ears were tracking their hushed whispers, then said softly, “My roommate already works here. She told me discreetly that they only hire people who aren’t married. Do what you want, but if you really want the job, don’t let on that you’re married.”
“Thanks…” Riley said hesitantly. Why would a data entry job care at all about whether or not she was married? She looked around the room and saw a total of 11 candidates including herself. She didn’t know how many would be offered a job. Maybe just one or two of them. She wasn’t particularly proficient at data entry, but she was a fast learner. She’d do whatever it took to secure financial stability for her and Ben.
This could change everything for them. Ben wouldn’t like that she’d have to lie about being married to him to get the job, but she wouldn’t have to tell him. It’s not like the company was going to come to her house. So she took a breath, and checked the box that said single.
The brunette whispered out the side of her mouth, “Good call. Best of luck in your interview.”
“You too,” Riley said.
A handsome man with dark hair and a thousand watt smile stepped out of the adjoining conference room. He picked up the sign in sheet with every applicant's name, and then scanned the room. “Josephine?” he asked in a clear, deep voice.
The brunette stood, smoothed her pantsuit and said, “That’s me.”
The man beamed at her. “Right this way,” and gestured for her to join him in the conference room.
Before she went, Josephine extended a hand to Riley. “If we end up working together, you can call me Josie.”
Riley giggled and took it. “I sure hope we do, Josie. I’m Riley.”
Josie winked and gave Riley’s hand an encouraging squeeze. “I know, I saw it on your application.” With that Josie headed into the interview.
Ten minutes later, she came out with a confident smile on her face and gave Riley a big thumbs up. “Piece of cake.”
“Did they offer you the job?” Riley asked with wide eyes.
Josie nodded. “On the spot. I’m to report back here on Monday.”
Riley felt her stomach lurch as she thought about how this might affect her odds, but smiled gamely. “Congrats. I hope my interview goes as well as yours.”
“Just be yourself.” Josie leaned down and whispered in Riley’s ear. “And be single.”
Riley laughed softly. “Got it.”
As Josie left the waiting room, Riley found herself wishing Josie could have stayed for moral support until it was her turn. She wished Ben could have come for the same reason, but that might have cost her her shot if her husband had tagged along.
Two more applicants came and went. One was a guy who came out with slumped shoulders. The other was a striking red headed woman who walked out with head held high and a confident swagger in her hips. It was clear that only one of them had gotten the job.
Riley observed that none of the men came out looking like they’d had an offer. Rather, it was only the women. Specifically, beautiful women.
Doubts flooded Riley’s mind again as her name was finally called. She stood up and walked towards the open door, but as she did, she wondered if she was willing to work for a company that seemed biased towards looks, gender, and marital status. If she wanted that, she could just go back to her last job, or the one before that, or the one before that.
But she remembered quickly that none of those places were going to pay 80 grand a year, so she put on her game face. For that much money, she even went so far as to chide herself for not wearing something low cut to show off her impressive cleavage. Her jiggly chest certainly kept her husband’s attention. But she’d opted for a pale blue blouse that gave her the conservative look she preferred to have in public. Hopefully that wasn’t a deal breaker.
Finally it was her turn, and she stepped into the conference room for her interview. There were two people on the other side of a long table. The handsome man that called in the candidates, and a woman. The man came around the desk, and closed the door behind her, then offered his hand. “I’m Marcus,” he said kindly. He gestured towards the woman that hadn’t moved, but was perusing a file on the table. “This is Doris.”
Doris was much older than Marcus. Marcus was maybe in his mid thirties, early forties, but Doris looked like she was going on a hundred and twenty. Deep wrinkles and sagging jowls made Riley think that she’d judged Del Corp too harshly. Clearly they didn’t just care about looks if Doris worked here.
When Riley stopped looking at Doris and glanced back at Marcus, she noticed his eyes bounce up quickly to hers. He’d been looking at her chest. She kept the smile plastered on her face, but inside thought, “You’ll never see ‘em perv. They belong to my husband.”
Marcus took Riley’s application and took it to his side of the table. Riley took a seat across from them. Riley noticed Doris glanced at her application, putting a bony finger near the section that indicated her relationship status. She nodded and gave what could have been a sound of approval, or begrudging interest.
Marcus smiled, and tapped his right hand on the table, as he perused more of her application. The silver ring that he wore on that hand made a loud ting ting sound as he tapped. After his cursory glance, the interview began. There was a back and forth about Riley’s employment history. Some questions about her computer proficiency. Doris had frowned at that part, but Marcus had seemed undeterred.
Riley thought she’d answered all the questions well. Maybe everything was going her way. Then Doris finally fixed her eyes on her and she felt the color leave her face.
As Doris spoke, Riley was reminded of every mean spinster she’d ever seen in movies. “Miss Harper,” Doris began, putting an emphasis on the ‘Miss,’ “We are looking for someone who is motivated team player. You might be called on to perform a task for the company at all hours. Would that be a problem?”
Thinking about her first paycheck, Riley didn’t hesitate. “No, ma’am.”
Doris’s eyes became narrow slits. “Is there anything, or anyone, in your life that might slow you down or get in the way. Anyone you might be…beholden too?”
Had Riley not had the earlier conversation with Josie, she might not have immediately seen this as a way to ask about her relationship status without directly asking about it. It clearly was a big deal. But given that it truly was none of their business, she again answered, “Nope. It’s just me right now. Nothing tying me down. Completely single and live by my lonesome.” She stopped after that, worried she might have laid it on a little too thick.
Marcus smile grew very wide at that answer, and he shared a look with Doris, who also gave a smile, although a very tight lipped one.
“Well, we think you’ll be a perfect fit, Riley. We’d like you to start Monday.”
Riley’s jaw dropped. “So I got the job!” she squealed, wanting to leap up and bounce around the room.
“You got the job!” Marcus repeated, standing up and buttoning his suit. He came around the table and for a second Riley thought he was going to hug her, but then he put out his hand and said, “Welcome to the Del Corp family.”
She took it and enthusiastically said to him and Doris, “Thank you. Thank you! I won’t let you down.”
She then strode out confidently from the conference room. It would be a long drive home, but that was no problem now. She had a high paying job! She couldn’t wait to tell her husband.
Before they called the next candidate, Marcus said, “I’m going to enjoy that one. She’s just my type.”
Doris nodded smugly. “Me too. There’s definitely a demand for busty blondes from the clients. And there’s a real sweetness about her too. She’ll be in high demand for sure.”
An hour later, Ben was thrilled when his wife told him the news, but the money Riley was being offered almost seemed too good to be true though. “So…you’re gonna be doing what exactly?”
“It’s data entry basically for a bunch of rich clients I guess. It can’t be too hard though, cause they didn’t seem too worried about my work history.”
Ben gave his wife a wry smile and asked, “Was it a man who interviewed you?”
Riley crossed her arms over her ample chest. “Just what are you implying?”
“Only that you’re super hot, even with that blouse buttoned all the way to the top.”
Riley’s eyebrows shot up in mock annoyance. “I’ll have you know that it was a man AND a woman.”
“So they both had the hots for you?”
Riley took a playful swat at her husband, who backed out of reach at the last second. A second later, her fingers began unbuttoning her blouse from the top down. “If this outfit bothers you so much, I’ll just have to take it off.”
As a silky black bra came into view, Ben’s mouth began to water. It had been almost 10 hours since they’d had sex. Far too long for the newlywed couple. “Yeah. Yeah you should definitely take it off.”
“Are you saying that I only got the job because of my body?”
“I would never say such a thing,” Ben said, keen to not jeopardize his chances of getting some.
“Would YOU give me the job because of my body?” Riley asked as she reached behind to unfasten the bra.
“I would give you the job and a raise and immediately make you CEO for a glimpse of your boobs alone.”
She giggled, and he saw the bra tighten as she pulled at the clasp, then the release. He saw the tops of her boobs wobble as gravity tried to let them escape. But Riley held the bra in place with one hand, while the other slowly pulled down the straps. She loved how Ben looked at her. It was okay for him to look. She so wanted him to. He was still so captivated by her body, even after having seen it so many times. The anticipation of getting to see her boobs never failed to get him excited. And that’s what she wanted right then. To get him very excited, and to take her. She couldn’t think of a better way to celebrate.
“Wow,” Riley teased as she held the bra in place. “So I just have to show you my boobs, and you’ll give me the whole damn company?”
“I’d give you the whole world.”
“Good answer.” The bra fell. Boobs bounced out.
Riley tackled her man, and more clothes were quickly discarded so they could make love on their living room floor.
Ben was not a morning person, but that following Monday, he rose early to make his wife breakfast in bed. Pancakes, bacon, eggs, and juice. It was a sweet gesture, but cooking had never been his forte. He burned everything but the juice, and even that was a little close.
He still happily brought it to her on a tray, but when he entered their bedroom, found that his wife was already up and half dressed in bra and panties. “Babe,” he whined. “You’re supposed to still be in bed!”
Riley turned and saw the barely edible breakfast her man had prepared. Her smile was radiant as she sauntered towards him. “You are the sweetest husband I could ever asked for,” she gushed. “How did I ever get so lucky?”
She threw her arms around his neck, causing the contents of the tray to rattle precariously as Ben did his best to save it. He lost the juice. Its contents hit the carpet of their bedroom, but still he tried to salvage the moment. “Seriously Riley, get in bed!”
Riley gave a cute pout that she used when she wanted to get her way. It always worked on her husband. “But I don’t have time.”
Ben faltered at her cute face, but said, “Nuh uh, there’s still plenty of time for you to eat and get ready.”
She kissed his lips and said, “Not if I do this.” And she stepped back, and sank to her knees. As she did, she pulled down Ben’s boxers.
As soon as Ben saw what his wife intended to do, his dick raced to catch up, getting hard so fast it hit the underside of the tray he was still holding. “No, this is your big day!” he protested. “I’m the one who’s trying to do something for you!”
Riley giggled as she took the tray from him and placed it on the floor. “I know,” she said sweetly. “And its that fact that makes me want to suck you off Mr. Harper. So shh.” She took him into her mouth. She wasn’t the best at cocksucking, but loved the sounds Ben made as she slid her tongue up and down his shaft. His little whimpers of pleasure were so cute and sexy. She loved being able to please him. She loved him so very much.
She swallowed down what he gave her, and left him to eat the breakfast. She brushed her teeth, finished dressing, and grabbed a power bar in the kitchen. She was almost out the door when Ben called out, “Wait!”
“I gotta go Ben, it’s an hour away,” Riley said in mock exasperation. But still, she waited for her husband to walk quickly towards her so he could embrace her, picking her up off her feet and kissing her.
He didn’t care that his dick had been in her mouth minutes ago. He was so proud of her. Loved her so much. Would do anything for her. “Thank you for being so awesome. I know you’re gonna go kick some ass today.”
“Just have the house clean and dinner on the table when I come back, babe,” Riley said in as low a voice as she could muster.
‘Yeah, I can do breakfast again,” Ben offered seriously.
Riley made a small grimace and said, “Uh, ha ha, just kidding. I’ll pick up something for us on the way home. You’ve done enough cooking.”
Ben hung his head. “It’s the thought that counts right.”
“Oh, you mean the thought that got you a blowjob? Yeah, I’d say that worked out for ya.”
They laughed and hugged again, and then Riley was out the door.
An hour later, Riley showed up for her new hire orientation, along with three other candidates she’d seen in the waiting room.
Looks like no one else had made the cut, she thought.
Josie was there of course. She owed her a debt for giving her that advice. There was also the stunning red head, and a taller, slender blonde with smaller boobs than her own.
She noticed that as far as beauty standards went, these women were probably the top four or five most attractive from yesterday. Maybe these were the ones who had simply checked single. She needed to make sure not to bring up her marriage to any of them. Not yet at least. After a few months when she’d proved what a good worker she could be, she’d let them know.
As she thought about that, she wondered if she’d be able to keep quiet about her husband around her coworkers for so long! Working remotely one day a week would make that easier at least. She just loved Ben so much and wanted everyone to know how lucky she was. Even complete strangers!
The women all milled about in the waiting room. Riley assumed they’d have orientation in the same adjoining conference room. She was about to start asking for names, when Doris showed up through the set of double doors that led into the building. She studied them each in turn, saying nothing as her eyes scrutinized them, as if looking for flaws. There was no big welcome, not even a smile. But after staring at them, she motioned with a curled finger to follow her. She put a silver ring she wore on her right finger, and touched the sensor on the double doors. She led them out of the waiting room, and deep into the heart of Del Corp.
They walked down a long hallway, turned right, found a set of stairs that led down and followed them. Another long hallway. Another turn. Another set of stairs. On and on, Riley noticed that every door they’d passed so far since the entrance had been closed. They never passed an open office, or break room, or a conference room. Riley suddenly felt stifled, and was again thankful that she’d only have to be here once a week.
They did pass several men, all with big smiles on their faces and wandering eyes that didn’t disguise where they were looking. Riley was taken aback by this. She didn’t want to raise a fuss her first day, but she had a mind to get the names of everyone and report them to HR. Surely a successful company like this had a top notch human resources.
It wasn’t all men though. They also passed several women, mostly older, or obese, or with a disfigurement of some kind. They also looked at each of the new women shrewdly and appraisingly. Riley wondered if this was some kind of weird corporate hazing. If it was, she didn’t like it.
On the third flight down, they approached a room on their right that was making a loud hum, and Josie asked curiously, “What’s in there?”
“Main servers,” Doris replied with unveiled irritation. “You’ll never need to go in there. It’s always locked, and only a few people have access.”
Access. Riley noticed that every door had a sensor for keyless entry. This was a very secure facility. She was suddenly shocked that the company had not done a background check on her. What kind of company that seemed to value privacy and security would hire someone without doing a thorough background check.
‘It really is like, oh, you’re hot and single? Welcome to the team,’ Riley mused as her irritation for this place steadily rose. She tried to remember why she was here. She allowed a mantra to run through her mind over and over again. ‘The money. Remember the money. Remember you’ll be working from home. Remember that you’re doing all this for Ben, the love of your life, and the future that we have together.’
After going down two more floors and countless hallways, they reached a large rectangular room that was very nice and welcoming. It was completely the opposite of everything Riley had seen so far. There were fake plants scattered throughout, fancy art on the wall, and several of the most comfy looking couches Riley had ever seen forming an open square in the middle of the room. In the middle of that square was a low square coffee table, and Riley saw four laptops in a row.
“Have a seat there,” Doris said, pointing at the couch directly in front of those laptops.
Riley went and plopped down, being sure the yellow dress she’d picked out for her first day didn’t fly up too high. She assumed the dress was fine for this job. She didn’t have any business professional clothes as she’d only had jobs where you had a uniform before this one. She’d wear whatever they deemed appropriate though, within reason. She would not be wearing anything that showed more of her cleavage than she was comfortable with. Her momma had raised her right. She’d still gotten Ben, hadn’t she? Yes. Better to conceal the goods and make ‘em chase you to get what’s inside.
“Here are your bracelets,” Doris said, interrupting Riley’s thoughts again. The old woman spoke in a dry, monotone, as if this were the last thing she wanted to be doing in the world. “After today you’ll need these bracelets to get in the building. They also monitor your health, because we care about our employees. If you suspect one is ever malfunctioning, report it immediately. Whatever you do, do not take it off unless you have the permission of a supervisor. Removal of it for any other reason will result in immediate termination.”
“But what if it doesn’t go with my outfit,” the redhead quipped.
Doris smiled, but not pleasantly. It was like the smile of a bully who enjoyed watching his victim squirm. “Oh, I think that you’ll find very soon that it will go with everything.”
The redhead frowned and sighed sarcastically. “Not likely, but if that’s the job, I’ll do it for as long as I’m here.”
By the sound of that, Riley thought that she might not last the week. Clearly she didn’t need the money as bad as Riley did.
Riley accepted her bracelet. It looked like a combination of jewelry and technology. The top half was flat and smooth, and Riley realized that it was capable of displaying messages as the phrase, “Welcome to Del Corp Riley,” was scrolling on hers. It was a bit heavy and bulky though underneath. Riley snapped it easily in place, but as she spun her wrist, she didn’t see an easy way to unfasten it. It felt very tight. Was she really going to have to wear this thing all the time?
‘The money, the money, the money…’
With the bracelets securely fastened, the four women listened as Doris began to speak to them, sounding almost bored now. “In a moment you’ll be meeting our CEO Avery Smith and three of the board members, but first, I’ll reintroduce you to your team lead, Marcus Orion.”
On cue, Marcus entered through a door opposite the one they’d come in, his arms stretched wide, his grin even wider. “Welcome new hires! I am so glad to see you today. Who’s ready to get started?”
Doris, her job apparently done, passed him on her way out of the room. She seemed very relieved to not have to be there anymore.
Marcus was the opposite of Doris, and seemed genuinely excited to have them here. “Ladies, I can’t tell you how pleased I am to have this opportunity with you all. I’m going to be your primary handler. Doris will be my second. If for any reason you cannot reach me, you will report to her with any problems. Before you leave, both of our numbers will be in your phones.”
Riley raised her hand, as she had questions about the word, ‘handler.’
Marcus ignored her hand and pressed on enthusiastically. “Please turn on the laptop directly in front of each of you. These are state of the art computers that have been designed and manufactured entirely in house. I promise you they are better than anything on the market, and they’ll be what you’re using to work remotely. So fire them up, and then members of our senior leadership will be joining us.”
Riley hesitated, but lowered her hand and pressed the laptop’s power button. It didn’t look all that impressive. It just looked like a standard 16 inch laptop. It was fast though. The screen came to life almost instantaneously with the message, “Welcome to Del Corp. Please sync your bracelet.”
Josie was already looking at Marcus and asking, “How do we sync our bracelets?”
“Fantastic question Josie,” Marcus said grinning ear to ear. Just press the clasp on the bottom end to the pad on the lower right side of your keyboard. No, no, wait!” Marcus said, and his tone shifted quickly to silky smooth, to loud and abrasive.
Josie froze, and looked up at Marcus with an eyebrow raised. She was not accustomed to people snapping at her like that. Josie also needed the money, but still, she’d rather walk away than be disrespected.
Marcus’s wide smile was back in a flash. “Sorry, sorry,” he said as he clasped his palms together apologetically and shook them twice at Josie. “Please forgive me. It’s just important that we’re in sync, when we sync.” He laughed at his own lame joke, and paused for them to follow suit. When they didn’t, he said, “Bear with me. This is my first time being a Team Lead.” He put his hand on his heart. “I will get it right next time, you have my word.”
“Can we just get on with this,” said the other blonde.
Riley thought everyone seemed annoyed now. And why wouldn’t they be? Doris had acted like leading them here had been a big inconvenience. They’d gotten ogled repeatedly on the long walk to this room. They had to wear this bracelet which was transmitting who knew what kind of biometric data to the company. And now Marcus had just yelled at them.
“Okay, here we go,” Marcus said, undeterred by their lack of enthusiasm. He began to wave his hands like a conductor of a symphony. “I’ll count it down from 3, and then everyone press your bracelet to the spot on the laptop. 3. 2. 1. Sync!”
All four women placed their bracelet on their laptop, and all four felt a sharp jab as the tiny needle under the clasp pierced their skin and injected a milligram of nanites into their bloodstream.
A chorus of surprised objections arose.
“Ow! What was-”
“Something just stuck me!”
“What the hell?!”
Every woman but Riley had complained loudly except her. She’d only made a shrill whimper. She hated shots, and whatever that was had been right under her wrist, probably hitting the vein there.
“Sorry about that,” Marcus said as he pulled out a smartphone. He began to tap at the screen. “Just give it a minute to spread through your body and then you won’t care anymore.”
“Excuse me?” Josie snapped.
‘That’s it,” the redhead said standing briskly to her feet. “I’ve had enough. Get this damn thing off of me.” She began to fumble with the clasp with shaky fingers.
“Leadership told me there’s always one,” Marcus muttered. His voice became higher and insistent. “Everyone who leaves their bracelet on for just another 50 seconds will receive a thousand dollars, even if you quit immediately after.”
“I’m gonna get a lot more than that in the lawsuit I file against this company,” the red head hissed as she looked for a watch to unclasp it. But the more she inspected it, the more her fingers didn’t seem to want to cooperate.
Marcus was pleased to see her struggle, but still looked at her warily. Then his phone pinged. “Oh wow, one of you is already online. Good. Let’s see who…ah,” he said, winking at Josie. “The one who is always just ahead of everyone else. Makes sense.”
“Online?” the redhead exclaimed. “I don’t think so!” She forced her fingers underneath the clasp, trying to create enough pressure to unfasten it. Suddenly the arm she was using to apply the pressure tensed up as if she’d just received an electric jolt. “Ah! What was that!”
“It’s just the nanites keeping you from taking off the bracelet. That’s the last line of defense. But we won’t have to worry about that for much longer because…” Marcus’s phone pinged. “There we go, you’re online now too.”
It was Josie’s turn to stand, and she offered her left hand, the hand with that accursed bracelet, to help Riley up off the couch. Riley was reaching for it as Josie said briskly, “I didn’t sign up for this. Neither did she. We’re leaving.”
A third ping. Riley’s hand was in Josie’s. She was looking up into her face when Marcus said calmly, “Blank slate.”
“Blank slate confirmed,” said three female voices, perfectly in sync and without emotion.
Riley felt Josie’s hand go limp in hers, and watched in horror as the brunette’s eyes rolled into the back of her head so that only the whites were shown.
“I don’t understand,” Riley said, hearing the panic in her voice as she leaned forward and looked at the other two women. They all had the same blank expression.
“Me neither,” Marcus drawled. “Sometimes it takes a little longer for the nanites to circulate in some people. You must be pretty stubborn Riley. But everyone succumbs to the nanites eventually. No one’s ever failed to come online in under 90 seconds.”
His eyes raked over her body now with obvious sexual interest. Riley sprang to her feet and tugged at Josie’s limp arm. “Josie! Josie answer me right now! We need to leave! We need to-”
Ping.
Riley’s heart pounded in her chest at the sound of that fourth ping. Whatever was happening to these women, was about to happen to her.
“There we go,” Marcus said with an eerie smile. “Don’t worry. When this is all over, you’re gonna think you had a fantastic first day.”
“Please don’t-” Riley began, but saw Marcus mouth the words blank slate. She was vaguely aware of her own lips moving as she said in a monotone voice, “Blank slate confirmed.” And then all she knew was ignorant bliss as her eyes rolled up into her head.
“Time to meet our corporate overlords,” Marcus said happily. He hit a button on his phone that said Upload. He selected each woman, then pressed enter.
Each bracelet came to life with a soft chime. Each woman said in a robotic voice, “Uploading. Uploading. Uploading. Upload complete.”
Riley’s blue eyes came back down, and she looked at Marcus with a wry smile. “You need to do a better job at putting them at ease, Marcus.”
Josie’s brown eyes were on Marcus as well, her voice had an edge to it. “Maybe we were too hasty in promoting him to team lead, Avery I really thought he was going to lose control there for a moment.”
The redhead was not looking at Marcus, but was running her hands up her sides and over her chest. “Now now, gentlemen. It was his first time. He’s still got the drive and charisma we’re looking for, and is doing great and recruiting clients. Let’s let him off with a warning.”
The unnamed blonde didn’t seem to be interested in Marcus at all as her hands had begun to squeeze her tight buttocks. “What an amazing specimen. Surprised I didn’t have to fight you all for the chance to have her first.”
Riley’s voice became authoritative as she addressed the blonde. “Don’t get to carried away, Jenkins. This is just about meeting them, ensuring there’s no problem with the upload process, then sending them off for their physicals.”
The blonde’s face soured as she looked at Riley. She did not stop massaging her rear. “I helped write the protocols, Avery. There’s no harm in a little groping before we log out.”
Riley gave a perverted giggle. “Yes, I know. It’s tradition. We just musn’t go too overboard in case we have to release any of them back into the wild.”
Having said this, Marcus watched enviably as the four women groped and fondled their bodies over their clothes. A few minutes ticked by, but Marcus would have gladly watched his superiors explore the new hires for as long as he was allowed.
Riley had pulled her blouse aways from her chest and was taking a long look down it. Her face made it clear that she liked what she saw. She released the fabric, letting it snap back with a little less elasticity. “Okay, that’s enough gentlemen,” she announced with finality. “I think we’ve excited poor Marcus enough.”
It was true. He had not wanted to get an erection in front of his bosses, but seeing them inhabiting the bodies of these beautiful women, making them touch themselves provocatively, he was at full mast. He positioned his hands over his front, and tried to keep from gawking.
“It’s only fair,” Josie chuckled at him. “We’re all going to have erections when we are back in our bodies. Speaking of, you already sent a girl to each of our houses, correct Marcus?”
Marcus gave a curt nod. “Yes sir. Their bracelets were activated before this meeting, and they should all be at your house by the time you log out.”
“Excellent,” Riley said, and she stepped closer to Marcus. She took one of the hands covering his erection and placed it on her breast. “Don’t worry Marcus. You managed to get them to sync their bracelets without resorting to force, which might have damaged the merchandise. So we’ll still let you do their field tests. They are the first members of your team after all.” Riley helped the man squeeze her boob softly, looking up into his eyes with a mischievous smirk. “I bet you can’t wait.”
“N-no, s-sir,” Marcus stammered.
“I do think that’s the first time I’ve seen you flustered Marcus,” the redhead said with a laugh.
Riley released Marcus’s hand and stepped back. “You know what’s next. Keep them in blank slate mode and send them to their physicals. The doctor will check for STD’s and any other illnesses or maladies that would be a disruption to our company. We only provide the best for our clients. After that, the standing brainwashing program before we sent them off with their take home bag to…” Riley trailed off, then gave a sharp laugh. “Marcus, I don’t mind if you stare, but try to keep your mouth shut when you do. You look ridiculous.”
Marcus had been trying to look the CEO, Avery Smith, in the blue eyes of this gorgeous creature. But his eyes kept wandering to other areas. He was already thinking about tomorrow’s field tests. How he’d be in Riley’s home. How he could touch her as much as he wanted. His imagination was already running wild, but Avery’s subtle chastisement had snapped him out of it.
“Yes, of…of course Avery, er, Mr. Smith.”
The corner of Riley’s mouth went up, and she raised her hand and cupped her right boob as she looked at the other women. “I think our boy’s got it bad for this one.” The women nodded back at Riley, each of them smirking as well. Back at Marcus, Riley said, “We all have our favorites, but don’t monopolize her too much. But…you are her handler, so take a few days to get her out of your system after the field tests are over.”
“If she passes that is,” Josie said quickly.
“Naturally,” Riley retorted, looking annoyed. “Marcus has been warned. Should he find any red flags, she’ll go back to her normal life. Isn’t that right Marcus.”
“Of course, sir,” Marcus replied.
“Good,” Riley said, and smiled at him. Then she blew him a kiss. “Now be a good boy and send us back.”
“Right away sir,” Marcus said. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to get used to meeting his bosses this way. He quickly selected all four women on his cell phone, and disconnected them. HIs shoulders slumped a little. He knew the men were in their respective homes and could still see him on the cameras mounted all around the room. But they were probably focused on the women now at their door that would attend to those pesky erections rather than him.
Marcus, on the other hand, would have to wait until later to have his relief. What he wouldn’t give to have his way with any of the women on the couch right now. Especially Riley. But he had his orders.
With blank slate mode still active by default, he said, “Grab your laptops and follow me so we can get your physicals underway.”
“Yes sir,” the four women responded at once. Their eyes focused on the command at hand, and like obedient worker drones, the four women retrieved their laptops from the coffee table. They formed a single line behind their boss. Their movements were precise, and they marched in step as Marcus led them from the room. They followed Marcus back into the series of hallways, and up a flight of stairs. Several doors that had been closed were now suddenly open, as staff at Del Corp wanted to assess the recent new hires. Programmers, team leads, technicians, cooks, paper pushers, analysis, recruiters, marketing, and more all watched the synchronized steps of the attractive women as they marched past. This time the women didn’t mind the stares, because none of them had a thought in their head other than following their team lead.
The workers of Del Corp with free will were all picking out their favorite new hire, making a note of who they’d spend time with during their breaks in the weeks ahead. The pretty blonde just behind Marcus seemed to be the most popular candidate by far.
They eventually passed through a door that Marcus unlocked by pressing the ring he wore on his right hand against a sensor. They stepped into a well lit sterile room with medical equipment and exam tables. A pudgy older man in a doctor’s coat was there to greet them. He was flanked by two very beautiful women who wore a vacant smile and nothing else.
“Did the old men have their fun?” the doctor asked Marcus politely, although his eyes did not meet him. They were focused on his four new patients who had followed obediently after him.
Marcus let out a sigh, but smiled. “If by fun you mean taking the piss out of me, then yes.”
The doctor laughed. “Sounds like them. Well, let’s get this show on the road. New hires, each of you hop up on one of the exam tables.”
The order was received with unflinching obedience as the four women walked purposefully into the sterile room, their shoes clicking on the white tiled floor. They each picked a gynecology exam table and sat there.
“I’ll be back when you’ve run your tests,” Marcus said, and left to go to his office. On the way he grabbed a woman with a bracelet who had been programmed to clean on her weekly visit to Del Corp. She didn’t protest, but allowed herself to be dragged along. She even seemed happy to have been chosen for whatever task Marcus had in mind.
When they arrived at his office, Marcus didn’t talk to her, just stripped off her clothes, bent her over his desk, and fucked her. He thought of Riley, the pretty doe eyed blonde that had been so sweet and chaste during the interview. He thought of Avery being inside her, teasing him with her body, making him grope her. He thought of what tomorrow would bring, and he came. He told the girl to clean up the mess, and then sat down in his chair. He’d needed that. He could finally think straight again..
Back in the exam room, the doctor’s nude assistants helped the doctor with silent efficiency. He’d trained them to help draw blood, check reflexes, take blood pressure, examine pupils, ears, gums, and more. They’d help him record it all. The new hires were perfectly calm during this whole process.
The cursory examination over, the doctor ordered them to remove their clothes. The four new hires all stood and undressed quickly. There was nothing sensual about their movements, just the subconscious desire to follow the order as expediently as possible.
The doctor gave orders to his assistants to pull out the stirrups attached to the tables, then had the new hires put their feet in them. They all did with no complaint. Each of them laying slightly back, their legs spread wide for the doctor. He gave each woman a pelvic exam. They did not flinch as his fingers pushed into them. Did not make a sound. They merely laid there as if this were all routine.
“Okay, that’s that,” the doctor said as he took off his gloves. “Get dressed, new hires.” As the naked women complied, he sent an assistant to fetch Marcus. Upon his return, the doctor told him, “I’ll have the lab results before you leave today. You can take them to get fitted and supplied now.”
Marcus was aware that the doctor had just seen these women naked before he had. He was not jealous though. He considered himself patient. He’d worked hard to get where he was. And tomorrow, he’d be able to upload into any of them and have complete control of their bodies. And when they returned next week, he could order them to do all manner of sexual acts on him, and they would agree readily.
When the new hires weren’t being made to serve him sexually or one of the other employees at Del Corp, they’d be ordered to do the mundane tasks. Like cleaning, or secretarial work, or anything that anyone deemed beneath them in this place. Thanks to different women being forced to come in on different days throughout the week, they always had plenty of willing slaves to do the grunt work at headquarters. But between now and next week, the new hires were strictly off limits until the field tests had been run.
As Marcus next led the women to a series of rooms that would get their measurements for clothes, outfits, and sex toys they might need while servicing a client, Ben was doing what Riley had joked about when she left. He was making the house sparkling clean. In their first five weeks of marriage, they’d fallen into stereotypical gender roles, where Ben played video games and did nothing, and Riley did everything that needed done like laundry, cleaning, and cooking. It had been a big step for Ben to make breakfast that morning. Now he tried his hand at laundry and cleaning. He was better at them than breakfast for sure. Riley would be so happy, that maybe he could talk her into doing something kinky tonight.
Being raised in a very conservative family, Riley had been a virgin when they got married. But Ben hadn’t. Far from it. He’d never admit to being a sex addict, but considered it a possibility. Before dating Riley, he’d had a few one night stands, some long term girlfriends, and had developed quite a few kinks thanks to those women. And porn. He’d watched porn every day, and was always finding something new he’d like to try in the bedroom with a girl, but Riley had put a stop to all that when they’d got married.
Riley didn’t want him watching porn or masturbating. The first time she’d told him, he’d thought she was joking. Riley’s hurt face let him know that she wasn’t. She wanted to be enough for him. Didn’t want him looking at girls online and getting ideas for positions or roleplay. Ben had hoped that over time his bride would change her mind about some of that, but except for the infrequent blowjobs, she would only do missionary or on top.
Because of his love for her, he’d stopped watching porn and jerking off. It hadn’t been too difficult, because Riley was usually around. As they both tended to work 2nd shift, they could fuck in the morning, and then again when they both got home. But now she had a 40 hour or more job a that took her away from him during a time where he was home by himself.
The hours seemed to drag by, and even though he’d gotten blown early that morning, he was already thinking about looking up his old friend pornography by the time noon rolled around. But he knew it would most likely affect his performance that night with his wife. So he waited, and focused on making the interior of their house shine.
It was mid afternoon when Marcus got the bad news. He’d just presented the women with a small boxed meal and told them to eat. It was a flavorless, tasteless mush, and was very cheap to manufacture. They chewed and swallowed it as they were told. Marcus watched them shovel it down while he ate a steak their onsite chef had prepared. He couldn’t stop smiling, that is, until the doctor walked in.
“I’m afraid I have some bad news,” the doctor said gravely.
Marcus put his fork down and asked, “Well, don’t keep me in suspense. What’s the problem?”
“The blonde is pregnant.”
Marcus wiped his mouth and slammed a fist on the table. “Dammit!” His eyes fell upon Riley. He did not want to lose her, but a pregnancy meant instant termination. The nanites could stop future pregnancies, but not the one she’d come in here with. “Are you sure?”
The doctor nodded, then looked at who Marcus had focused on. “Oh, sorry. Forgot you had two blondes. Not that one. The other one,” he said, pointing at the unnamed blonde who sat there quietly eating her mush.
Relief flooded Marcus. It wasn’t great that he was already down a team member, but it hadn’t been Riley. Besides, it was easy to recruit. He’d just put out another ad that promised big money while working from home.
“Kathleen,” he said sternly. The blonde now known as Kathleen stopped eating and looked at him keenly. “Pitch your food and go wait in the conference room you interviewed in last week. Turn on the monitor in there, and watch the exit interview until I come to fire you.”
“Yes sir,” Kathleen said, and without hesitation she stood, dropped her food in a trash bin, and made her way to the conference room.
After she exited, the doctor reported the rest of his findings. “All the rest are very healthy. Two of them have been sexually active however,” he said, pointing at Riley and the redhead. “Their swabs had traces of sperm under the microscope. Could be a one night stand, or something more serious. Easiest way is just to ask and-”
Fearing that he might hear something he didn’t want to, Marcus cut him off. “Thanks doctor, I’ll take it from here.”
“But the board will want to-” the doctor began with a raised eyebrow.
Anger rose in Marcus, but he tapered it down and replied calmly, “Don’t worry about the board I will handle it. If I find any problems during the field tests, I’ll take the necessary steps to deal with them.”
The doctor let out a knowing sigh. “Ah, I get it. You really want to field test them. Fair enough.”
“So you’ll leave that out of the report?”
“If she gets the greenlight,” the doctor said, pointing at Riley, “You let me have first dibs when she comes back in.”
‘You can have my sloppy seconds,’ Marcus thought. Out loud he said. “I think we can make that happen.”
The doctor extended a hand, and Marcus shook it. “Well then, I found no traces of sexual activity. See you next week, ladies.”
They did not stay goodbye, or give any other parting niceties. They just sat there. Their meal finished, and the empty box on their laps. They simply stared straight ahead, and awaited their next command.
Marcus ushered them to their last stop for their first day. This room had several cubicle workstations, each with a laptop that resembled the ones they would be taking home. Marcus had them each log on, and click on a program that walked them through an endless series of data entry. They copied one set of numbers from one place on the screen to another. Dragged one file here, another there. They opened spreadsheet after spreadsheet. None of it meant anything, but served one purpose. It helped cement the illusion. It gave the lie a solid foundation on which to stand.
Should these women ever question in the outside world what their job really entailed, the nanites would lead their minds back to this place. This moment. Where they dragged and clicked and typed over and over again. It’s what they would think they were doing all day instead of doing menial tasks and getting fucked. It’s what they think they would be doing in their homes, even as client after client came to see them to use their bodies. Just another boring day, entering facts and figures.
But as boring as they might remember it being, they would never want to leave. They would be so happy with their job. Because as they stared at their monitors, they each began to intermittently flashed the core tenets they would come to live by until they were released from their employ.
Over and over again during those last few hours, the following messages were repeated on a loop.
You love Del Corp.
You will be faithful to Del Corp and its employees.
You will not draw undue attention to yourself outside of work.
You never want to take off your bracelet.
When your bracelet pings, you will log onto your computer at work within 30 minutes. If unable, you will call your team lead.
Always do what your team lead tells you to do.
Always believe whatever your team lead tells you.
When you are on Del Corp property, you will be an obedient slut, doing whatever tasks required of you.
You will feel grateful to be of use to any Del Corp employee.
You will take good care of your body, because it belongs to Del Corp, its employees, and its clients.
You live to serve your team lead, Del Corp employees, and those we deem clients.
You no longer care about having a social life.
You no longer care about dating anyone.
If you are currently dating someone, you will break up with them as soon as possible in a way that does not bring undue attention to Del Corp.
You do not seek sexual intimacy outside the confines of Del Corp employees and clients.
You are focused on being the best employee you can be.
You will only ever remember doing data entry when working remotely.
You will stow your take home bag in a secure place in your home and not look in it unless directed to by a client or team lead.
You will do everything in your power to protect Del Corp and its employees.
When asked, you will always describe your job as ‘boring data entry.’
If pressed for more information about Del Corp beyond that, you will respond with, ‘We value our clients’ privacy so I can’t elaborate further.’
Should anyone seem a threat to Del Corp, you will report to your team leader as soon as possible and await further instructions.
Riley blinked. She felt like she’d been staring at this screen forever, but saw in the lower left hand corner of her monitor that there was only five minutes left of work today! The job was tedious, but not at all hard. She found she didn’t mind it though. She was going to love working for Del Corp, and was thankful to have gotten Marcus as her team lead.
Marcus walked between their cubicles and announced, “Time to punch out ladies. You’ll find your laptop and take home bag are waiting for you at the exit. You all did wonderful today. I don’t see you all back again here until next…” he checked his phone, “a week from tomorrow.”
Riley’s face fell a bit. In such a short time she’d grown to love this place and her team. She looked at the others, and saw their faces mirror hers.
“I know, I’ll miss you too,” Marcus said with a wide grin. “Say, what did you all think of that delicious steak dinner we had for lunch today?”
“Steak…dinner?” Josie asked, furrowing her brow.
This was a simple test to see if the programming had worked. It was one thing for them to be in blank slate mode. They were more like mindless functioning robots in that state. The real test came when they were back to themselves.
“Yes,” Marcus said confidently, trusting that the nanites and brainwashing they’d received would dictate their reality. “You all had a wonderful steak dinner. You thought it was amazing. You even licked your plate clean Josie, remember?”
Josie blushed. She did remember now. It had been the best steak of her life. “I guess…I was just really hungry.”
“Thank you for feeding us such a great meal!” Riley exclaimed. “Do we get to eat that good every time we come?”
Marcus stepped towards her and said with a wink, “I think you’ll always leave here with something yummy in your bellies.”
All the girls smiled at each other, already looking forward to next Tuesday’s lunch time.
“Ladies, you’ll believe whatever I tell you, correct?” Marcus asked.
“Yes sir,” the three new hires said in perfect unison.
“And you’ll do whatever I tell you, correct?”
“Yes sir!” the ladies replied cheerily.
“Good,” Marcus said, his smile curving into something sinister. “I want you each logging in at 9am sharp every day and running the data entry program. Keep familiarizing yourself with it so that we can eliminate possible errors for our clients.” Doing this would ensure the brainwashing cemented itself in their brains.
Marcus continued. “I’ll be chatting with each of you individually over the next few days. Riley, you’ll be first up tomorrow. It’ll be a video chat, so please wear something that shows off your boobs.”
Riley’s thoughts hit a wall suddenly. The training, the steak dinner, all of that had been great, but, to ask Riley to show off her boobs on a conference call was…was…
Marcus watched Riley’s face contort while the nanites made her accept the programming. Her resistance met a torrent of words that seemed to imprint on her very soul.
‘I will do what my team lead tells me to do. I live to serve my team lead. I will obey him. I will wear whatever Marcus tells me, because he is my team lead and I am his obedient slut.
Riley’s face smoothed out, and she beamed at him before saying happily, “Yes sir.”
“Good girl,” Marcus said, then looked at the other two. “And I’ll expect you both to do the same. Actually Josie, you wear nothing at all.”
The two women had already been having an internal struggle after hearing what he’d said to Riley, so they were quicker at both saying, “Yes, sir,” but not quite as in sync.
“Make sure our video chats are in a private area in your house. An office space, bedroom, bathroom, whatever. And you’re not to be disturbed during this time.”
All of this was to limit exposure to a family member, boyfriend, girlfriend, or roommate. They could all be dealt with over a short period of time, but the field test was crucial in ensuring Del Corp’s safety protocols.”
“If all goes well after those video chats, you’ll be ready to handle clients. I hope to be sending you each several by the end of the week. Now head home. You’ve all done great work today.”
Marcus led them back the way they came. The walk didn’t seem as far now. The building that had once seen drab and foreboding now felt so much like home. She wished she didn’t have to leave. She loved Del Corp.
“I’m going to be thinking about that steak all week,” Josie confessed to Riley as they stepped out into the sunlight.
“Me too!” Riley laughed.
“I can’t believe I licked the plate in front of all of you. That’s…not something I’d usually do.”
The image swam vividly in Riley’s mind. Josie’s hands picking up a white plate with the remnants of savory juice on it. Josie’s face drawing near it. Her tongue sticking out and licking it from top to bottom until it was all clean. She found her own mouth watering as she remembered the taste of it.
“If I had my plate in front of me right now, I’d do it too.”
They said goodbye as they headed to their own cars, and headed home.
Marcus went to the conference room where the pregnant blonde was. Kathleen had watched the exit interview video over and over again so the message of it would be very clear in her mind.
It had read as follows:
I am grateful for the opportunity, but this job just wasn’t for me. It was my decision to leave. I will find work elsewhere. I will surrender my bracelet, and leave immediately..
Marcus pulled her up on his phone and took her out of blank slate mode, and deactivated the nanites in her body. Without the bracelet, they would pass out of her naturally over the next 24 hours, but the brainwashing she’d received should hold.
Lastly, he put his hand on the bracelet and said, “Release.” With a smooth click, it unlatched, and hung loosely on Kathleen’s arm.
A few seconds passed, and Kathleen blinked and looked around as if waking from sleep.
“Well, I’m sorry it didn’t work out,” Marcus said, extending a hand to her.
“No, no,” she said sincerely as she accepted it. “I’m so grateful for the opportunity, but this job just isn’t for me. I’ll just have to find work elsewhere.”
Marcus nodded, then gestured towards the door. She took off her bracelet and set it on the table, then walked out. As soon as she was out of sight, Marcus shook his head. She would have been a great addition. Pity he never got to field test or fuck her. Maybe someday the company would start accepting pregnant women. Or married women for that matter. He had a client that would pay a small fortune for the chance to have regular sessions with a married woman. Apparently it was a big fetish of his. But right now the board’s mandate was clear. They only enslaved and hopped unattached women that would not raise suspicion. They wanted to be in business for a long, long time.
The whole drive home Riley kept thinking how much she loved Del Corp. How much she loved her team. Marcus, Josie, and… and there were two more, weren’t there? Another blonde like her, but…but she hadn’t seen her on the way out. But the beautiful redhead had been there. How had she not gotten her name? That was very rude of her, and quite embarrassing!
As she questioned this egregious oversight, the memory of typing numbers and clicking a mouse came into her mind very strongly. She just hadn’t had a chance was all. All she could remember was her time at the computer, and a wonderful steak dinner that the company had so generously provided. She was so lucky to have gotten the chance to work for them. She would make them proud. She belonged there. She belonged to Del Corp. All of her belonged to them. Her mind and her body.
Riley had been so enraptured by how amazing her orientation had been, that she almost forgot to pick up food on the way home. But as her stomach growled, she remembered she needed to take care of her body, so she stopped by a fast food place. Instead of her typical burger and fries, she got a salad. She paid for it and was about to pull onto the street, when she realized she’d forgotten Ben. How could she forget her wonderful husband? She drove back around, and got him a salad too.
Ben was famished by the time Riley walked through the front door, but first made a grand sweeping gesture at the house. “Ta da!” he exclaimed as she walked past him carrying a large black duffel and two fast food bag. She didn’t seem to notice how he’d swept, mopped, done the dishes, and had the place cleaner than it had been in a couple of weeks.
In fact, she didn’t say anything, didn’t even give him a kiss. She set the fast food bags on the table, and then disappeared into their guest bedroom that would now serve as Riley’s office. She stowed the bag in the highest part of the closet in there, and moved a box in front of it. Hopefully that would keep the contents secure. She wondered what was in the bag, and had the desire to check. But then very strongly in her mind came a pulsing thought.
You will not look in it unless directed to by a client or team lead.
Riley’s eyes unfocused and heard herself say aloud in a monotone voice, “I will not look in it unless directed by a client or team lead.” She looked around. What had she been thinking? Oh yes. She needed to take care of her body. She went back to the dining room and sat down at the table.
Ben was now feeling a little ruffled. “Uh, ahem, nothing? No, wow hon, the place looks great! This must have taken you all day.’”
Riley was unpacking her salad, but did stop to look around. “Oh, yeah, wow,” she said with less enthusiasm in her voice than Ben had been hoping for. “Come eat, Ben, and I’ll tell you what a great company Del Corp is.”
For the love of his wife, Ben chose to let it go and joined her at the table. His face fell though as he realized he was also eating a salad. “Hey, what was in that bag you brought in?”
“Work stuff,” Riley said quickly. She then proceeded to prattle on about how amazing Del Corp is. How great her team lead Marcus was. How all the people there were great. How her clients would great and how she might have some by the end of the week. How she couldn’t wait to log on to her new company laptop tomorrow to start working hard.
As she unpacked her day, the realized that she would have to break up with Ben. That was unfortunate, but it was a directive from the company, so she’d have to go through with it. She should do it now, but the way he was looking at her, like everything she said was so important, like she were the only woman in the world. Despite a growing desire to tell him they were through then and there, she convinced herself to do it tomorrow, or maybe even push it off till the weekend. She just wanted to stay with him a bit longer.
It was at this point, Ben got a word in edgewise. “So, what exactly will you be doing?”
“Boring data entry,” Riley said wistfully, as if it was all she wanted to do for the rest of her life.
“Uh, wow, you make it sound so exciting,” Ben quipped. “Seriously though, what kind of data entry? What kind of information will you be-”
Riley’s eye twitched, and then words burst forcefully out of her, “We value our clients’ privacy so I can’t elaborate further.” She took a bite of salad and considered the matter settled.
Ben was taken aback. “C’mon Riles, we’re not dating. We’re married. Husband and wife. Surely you can tell me of all people.”
Her husband’s words changed everything. It was true. They weren’t dating. They were married. She would not have to break up with him because they were not dating. She checked them carefully against what she knew of Del Corp’s mandates, and her mind seemed to accept this. She was so relieved.
Ben laughed at her silence. “What? Are they a dark and shady organization that is trying to enslave the general populace?”
Riley suddenly tensed. Ben was asking her to go against company policy by telling him what they did there. Why couldn’t he just accept her answer? Did he pose a threat to Del Corp? She tried to calm herself, tried to make sure not to draw any undue attention. With a sweeter but still serious disposition, she said, “Ben, honey, I’m telling you I can’t talk about it. So drop it.”
Ben looked down at his salad. This evening was not going as planned. She knew he hated salad. Why had she brought him one? She hadn’t even called and asked what he wanted. It’s like he’d been an afterthought. Surely the honeymoon stage couldn’t be over already. He tried to let it all pass. He loved her and she loved him. They’d go to bed together soon. They’d make love. “Fine,” he finally said. “I’m gonna go make a sandwich.”
Riley didn’t stop him, but was a little perturbed he didn’t seem to appreciate the salad she’d brought him because… because he… no. No!. Only she needed to take care of her body. But, as his wife, she wanted him to take care of his body too. Just, for her, it was a mandate. She NEEDED to take care of her body. If he wanted to make a sandwich that was fine. She found herself calming quickly, and got up as soon as she was done.
As Ben sat down at a vacant table, Riley went to work out on their treadmill. It had been a wedding present, and she’d only used it once. Now it seemed very important. She needed to take care of her body, and working out was a good way to do that.
A disconnect grew through the night as the couple seemed to keep going their separate ways. Ben tried to get her to cuddle on the couch and watch a movie, but she got lost in a skin care regimen that seemed to take forever.
As it got dark, Ben heard Riley say from their bedroom, “Goodnight, Ben.” And then the door shut.
Ben quickly got up from the couch to join his wife in their marital bed. He had his clothes off in a flash, and got under the covers. She was turned on her side away from him. He loved the feeling of pressing his boner against her round ass. But Instead of her warm, smooth, naked skin, he pressed up against fluffy pajamas. He tried not to sound indignant as he asked, “Why are you wearing clothes?” They hadn’t been wearing clothes to bed for the last five weeks, save some skimpy lingerie that Riley would put on sometimes.
“I was chilly,” Riley said simply.
“But, I always warm you up, don’t I?” Ben said hopefully as he wrapped an arm around her waist. His hand lifted up the bottom of her shirt, and he felt her skin. It traveled up quickly to her breast. He was already so hard. He was glad he’d waited for her. He would be inside her soon and everything would be perfect again.
As Riley felt her husband’s hands fondle her breasts, she felt a spark between her legs, and butterflies in her tummy. She wanted to roll over. To kiss him. To let his hands eagerly explore her as they so often had. To let him be in awe of her body. It was his after all.
But that…that wasn’t right. It wasn’t his body. Her body belonged to Del Corp. And she did not seek sexual intimacy from anyone but Del Corp employees and clients. Her body belonged to them now. This fact seemed to repent nonstop in her mind as she slowly brought her hand down, and pushed Ben’s away from her breasts. The brief twinge of sexual desire had faded entirely.
“What gives, Riles?” Ben asked, hurt in his voice. “Look, I’m sorry if you thought I was prying. I’ll respect that you can’t talk about your work.”
“It’s not that,” Riley said, feeling bad for turning him down. Why couldn’t he understand? She loved him, but he was not a Del Corp employee or client. But she couldn’t tell him that, because it would draw undue attention to Del Corp. So she made up another excuse. “I’m just…tired, honey. Long day, and I gotta be up early in the morning to log on to work.”
“I’ll…I’ll be super fast,” Ben said.
“No, Ben,” Riley answered quietly but firmly.
Ben’s boner was in full retreat. “Can I hold you at least?”
Riley thought about that. Holding wasn’t sexual, and Ben was her husband. “Yeah. I’d like that.”
So he did. He held her tight and whispered in her ear, “I love you. I really do. Maybe we can do it first thing in the morning.”
“Maybe,” Riley hedged. But she knew she would not let him have her. She was already planning to be up before him. To shower and shave her legs and maybe even put some makeup before she found an outfit that would accentuate her cleavage for Marcus. Her body belonged to him now, and the employees and clients of Del Corp. But she wouldn’t tell Ben any of that. It would hurt him to know that. He was her husband after all. They would be together till death do us part. So instead, she said what she knew to still be true, “I love you too.”
Ben hoped she’d change her mind, but soon heard his wife’s breathing change, and knew that she’d drifted off. He regretted not masturbating earlier then. He thought about getting up and going to the living room to rub one out, but he still had hope for tomorrow morning. So in the end, he slept.
When he woke up the next day, he rolled over to kiss his bride, but her spot was empty. He checked his phone and saw that it was almost 9am. He sat up and called out, “Riles!”
“Getting ready to log on for work honey,” she replied from the kitchen.
Ben swore and jumped out of bed. He was naked as usual first thing in the morning. He walked quickly to the kitchen and saw that his wife looked incredible. She always looked very beautiful to him, but here she was in a yellow buttoned top that he’d only seen her wear once before, plus a short black skirt that drew copious amounts of attention to her long legs. His eyes were still on the top though, because the top three buttons weren’t fastened, and her cleavage was fully on display.
“You’re…working from home today, right?” Ben asked, perplexed, but glad she wouldn’t be showing off her amazing rack to a bunch of drooling office mates.
“Yeah,” Riley replied excitedly. “Just getting my coffee and going to go into the guest bedroom. I finished converting it into an office early this morning. Nothing fancy, just a card table and your gamer chair. We can get an actual desk and my own office chair when I get my first paycheck.”
“Yeah, no prob babe,” Ben said hurriedly, even though he was a little miffed that he wouldn’t have his gamer chair today. “Can we please make time for a quickie before you-”
Riley was already fervently shaking her head. “I don’t want to be late. I’m to log on promptly at 9am.”
“Will you get a break?”
Riley thought about that. She wasn’t sure. Surely she’d be able to walk away for bathroom breaks and a lunch. “I should be able to, yes, but I’ll know more once I log on as to what that looks like. We can probably have lunch together.”
The way she smiled at him while talking made Ben’s heart melt. He felt like some of the inexplicable distance that had materialized last night was dissipating. “I’d like that, babe. Yeah. I’ll make us something nice.” He remembered their diminishing food supplies and then said, “Like ramen.”
She laughed, and it lit up the room. “My favorite.” She moved forward to kiss him, but at the last second, swerved and walked by him. She didn’t want Ben to get the wrong idea, because kissing could lead to sexual intimacy, and her body belonged to Del Corp and its employees and clients.
That act had felt cruel to Ben. He didn’t like whatever this was. Everything had seemed normal for a second, and then she acted like a stranger towards him. He followed her into her new office area. They still had two minutes before she needed to log on.
Riley was opening up her laptop and about to sit down when she realized he was behind her. “What are you doing?” she snapped. “You’re naked, and you’re in my workspace! Are you trying to get me fired!”
“Why would it matter if I’m naked?” Ben argued. “It’s not like they’re gonna see me and-”
“But they might,” Riley said frantically. “I’m having a video chat with my team lead first thing! If he sees your penis, I imagine that’d be it for me!” She waved him away with both hands.
Ben’s shoulders slumped, and he left the room.
“Close the door!” Riley called after he’d taken a few steps from the office. “I don’t want you overhearing anything confidential.”
“It’s not like I’m going to sell your company’s secrets to a foreign power or-” but he stopped, because she was glowering at him. He just nodded, and shut the door. It was going to be a long day. He walked back to the kitchen and began to make himself breakfast.
Riley was staring at the monitor, waiting for her marching orders, when she saw an alert come up that she was receiving a video chat request. She clicked on it, and saw Marcus’s face. He looked very happy to see her. She pushed her chest out so he could see in the camera that she’d done like she’d been told.
“Hey, Riley, is there anyone in the room right now with you?” Marcus asked as he studied her low cut top very closely.
“No, sir,” she said confidently.
“Good. Are you ready for your field test?”
“My what?” Riley asked curiously. She remembered a video call, but didn’t know what the term ‘field test’ meant.
“In a moment, I’m going to upload into your body and have a look around your home. I’m going to dig into as much of your personal life as possible to make sure there’s no external plans or people that might pose a threat to Del Corp. It’s all company policy.”
Marcus loved telling her all this, knowing that she’d be forced to accept it.
Riley furrowed her brow. She didn’t want Marcus to be in her home. To be…did he say in her body? But even as she tried to resist, the nanites did their job, smoothing her face, making her compliant to his will. And why should she be? She trusted Marcus completely. “Whatever you need,” she said. “Does that mean I won’t be doing data entry today?”
“You will actually. At least, that’s what you’ll remember doing. That’s what you’re going to do right now. Pull up the data entry program and begin moving the numbers around.”
Riley did as she was told. A spreadsheet with several numbers came up and began to flash for her to drag it from one place to another.
Marcus saw on his tablet that she was following his instructions to the letter. “Good. Now I want you to look at it. Remember it. All you did today was work on this data entry program.”
“All I did today was work on this data entry program,” she repeated.
“Excellent,” Marcus said. “Stay there. I’ll be joining you very soon.” He disconnected the chat, and pressed more buttons. A large pod opened in front of him. He was in the upload room. There were 64 pods in here, and more were being added every month. Several were already filled by the retired sex workers on staff, such as his number two Doris. A few were also used by the occasional client who was willing to pay through the nose to experience life in another body.
That’s what Marcus would be doing for the next several hours. He’d be scouring Riley’s life. Making sure she posed no threat. He certainly hoped she didn’t. He was delighted to have her on his team. He’d enjoy being in her body. And he’d be getting paid very well to do it.
He pressed a button on his phone, and the pod shut, and began to hum.
70 miles away in her home, Riley’s bracelet pinged. Her eyes rolled up into her head, and heard herself saying, “Uploading. Uploading. Uploading. Upload complete.”
“Finally,” she said as she looked down at herself with a hungry smile. “Look at you, all dressed up for the job. Good girl.” Her hands came up and were a hair away from her chest when she stopped and looked at the monitor. Her fingers minimized the screen so she could see herself in the laptop’s camera. “That’s better,” she said.
She brought two eager hands to her chest. Marcus was reminded how good they felt when Avery had made him grope her yesterday. Now he had unfettered access to them. He was supposed to do a perimeter check, but he’d said she lived alone. He would explore her a bit first. Let himself feel the pleasures of her body. Then and only then would he begin a deep dive into her life.
Riley’s hands began furiously unbuttoning the few buttons she’d fastened on her top. There was still one to go at the bottom but she yanked it forcefully off, sending the last button plinking off the wall. The top landed on the floor. Her hands went behind her back, and for several moments, Marcus struggled to unclasp the bra. The nanites did not give him access to her muscle memory, and he had only uploaded a couple of times before as a part of his own training. Since he’d be uploading a lot more in the future though, he'd better learn how to remove a bra from this perspective more proficiently.
At last he was rewarded with the clasp releasing, and he felt gravity pull at the weight on Riley’s chest. The bra joined the blouse on the floor and two double D’s bounced in the monitor. Riley’s body was heating up exponentially, especially between her legs. Marcus wanted to touch there as quickly as he could, so he stood up from the chair and pulled the skirt down. He saw pink cotton panties underneath. Riley took a deep breath, then pulled those down as well. Neatly trimmed blonde pubic hair covered her slit. Marcus made her watch the monitor as her right hand went straight there. The middle finger felt the soft coarseness of the hair, and then her lower lips parted and there was only silky wet bliss.
“Fuck!” Riley called out louder than Marcus meant to. “You’re such a naughty girl, aren’t you? Masturbating on company time. Well, you’re gonna be doing a lot more than that soon.”
After being kicked out of her office by his wife, Ben had gone to put on a plain white shirt and gray sweatpants. He’d eaten breakfast and eventually ended up moping in their living room. It was a small two bedroom house. The office was adjacent to the living room. When Riley yelled ‘Fuck!’ Ben heard it. It took a lot to make his wife swear, so he assumed something was very wrong. He leapt up to investigate. He didn’t care about confidentiality in that moment, and pushed the door open. His jaw dropped. Her back was to him, but he had no problem seeing his wife on the monitor.
For a split second, he thought his wife was getting off to internet porn. But it wasn’t porn. It was her. She was recording herself on the laptop with her legs spread, her finger frantically rubbing her pussy while her other hand wildly fondled her boobs.
He’d never seen her behave in such a way. Was she doing this for him? So he’d have something to wank to while she was working? To him, it was the hottest she’d ever looked, and blurted out, “You’re so fucking sexy babe. Let me watch.”
Riley’s eyes had been closed as she slipped a finger deep inside herself. But they flew open as she heard the sound of a man behind her. She whirled around in the spinning chair, a look of annoyed confusion on her face. She made no attempt to cover herself, or even pause masturbating. All she said was, “Who the hell are you?”
To be continued…
Riley Harper was between jobs when she saw the ad. The 21 year old blonde had recently quit as a waitress at a local restaurant. She usually got great tips that she knew was more thanks to her curves than her service, but despised being hit on all the time, especially now that she was newly married. But it wasn’t okay for her to be without a job. Yesterday her husband Ben came home early from his factory. Apparently he’d been furloughed for at least 3 weeks. They didn’t have any sort of savings that would keep them in the black longer than a couple of weeks, so Riley stepped up.
She got on her phone and began job hunting, but quickly grew frustrated by how similar they were to every job she’d had before. Cashier, hostess, server, retail sales specialist. She wasn’t qualified for much else, but just once she’d like to do something that didn’t involve wearing a name tag. That’s when she came across the ad for Del Corp.
Riley clicked on it, and read about a company that was a bit of a drive away. An hour. But it paid eighty thousand dollars a year. That was four times what her last job paid! Del Corp was looking for people who could do simple data entry, and no degree was required. Then the best yet. They would let you work from home 4 of the 5 days a week! This suddenly seemed too good to be true, but what the hell. For the hope of that much money, she’d take her chances.
Riley looked for a place to begin filling out her application online, but then read that the application and interview process would only be done in person, and that candidates would be seen during a small window later this week.
So that Friday, Riley found herself an hour away with a clipboard in her lap, filling out a paper application. She’d just written her new name and still got a thrill from it a whole five weeks later. That’s how long she’d been married. Her mind drifted to Ben, standing there all handsome in his tux, looking at her like she was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen. Her blonde, shoulder length hair had been adorned with flowers. Her face hidden behind her veil. She’d always cherish the moment when he’d lifted it over her head and mouthed, ‘Wow.’ She hadn’t been able to stop smiling. The butterflies had been nonstop that magical day, and they returned quickly every time she thought about it.
She loved being Mrs. Ben Harper. Loved being married. She was at the part of the application that asked for the relationship status. Married or single. With a bit of a flourish, she brought her pen over the box that said married. She hovered over it dramatically. She was about to make an indelible x, when the applicant to her right, a pretty brunette, cleared her throat.
“Don't,” she whispered. “Check single, or you don't stand a chance.”
“Excuse me?” Riley whispered back. Companies were not legally allowed to hire people based on whether they were married or not.
The brunette scanned the room, making sure no other ears were tracking their hushed whispers, then said softly, “My roommate already works here. She told me discreetly that they only hire people who aren’t married. Do what you want, but if you really want the job, don’t let on that you’re married.”
“Thanks…” Riley said hesitantly. Why would a data entry job care at all about whether or not she was married? She looked around the room and saw a total of 11 candidates including herself. She didn’t know how many would be offered a job. Maybe just one or two of them. She wasn’t particularly proficient at data entry, but she was a fast learner. She’d do whatever it took to secure financial stability for her and Ben.
This could change everything for them. Ben wouldn’t like that she’d have to lie about being married to him to get the job, but she wouldn’t have to tell him. It’s not like the company was going to come to her house. So she took a breath, and checked the box that said single.
The brunette whispered out the side of her mouth, “Good call. Best of luck in your interview.”
“You too,” Riley said.
A handsome man with dark hair and a thousand watt smile stepped out of the adjoining conference room. He picked up the sign in sheet with every applicant's name, and then scanned the room. “Josephine?” he asked in a clear, deep voice.
The brunette stood, smoothed her pantsuit and said, “That’s me.”
The man beamed at her. “Right this way,” and gestured for her to join him in the conference room.
Before she went, Josephine extended a hand to Riley. “If we end up working together, you can call me Josie.”
Riley giggled and took it. “I sure hope we do, Josie. I’m Riley.”
Josie winked and gave Riley’s hand an encouraging squeeze. “I know, I saw it on your application.” With that Josie headed into the interview.
Ten minutes later, she came out with a confident smile on her face and gave Riley a big thumbs up. “Piece of cake.”
“Did they offer you the job?” Riley asked with wide eyes.
Josie nodded. “On the spot. I’m to report back here on Monday.”
Riley felt her stomach lurch as she thought about how this might affect her odds, but smiled gamely. “Congrats. I hope my interview goes as well as yours.”
“Just be yourself.” Josie leaned down and whispered in Riley’s ear. “And be single.”
Riley laughed softly. “Got it.”
As Josie left the waiting room, Riley found herself wishing Josie could have stayed for moral support until it was her turn. She wished Ben could have come for the same reason, but that might have cost her her shot if her husband had tagged along.
Two more applicants came and went. One was a guy who came out with slumped shoulders. The other was a striking red headed woman who walked out with head held high and a confident swagger in her hips. It was clear that only one of them had gotten the job.
Riley observed that none of the men came out looking like they’d had an offer. Rather, it was only the women. Specifically, beautiful women.
Doubts flooded Riley’s mind again as her name was finally called. She stood up and walked towards the open door, but as she did, she wondered if she was willing to work for a company that seemed biased towards looks, gender, and marital status. If she wanted that, she could just go back to her last job, or the one before that, or the one before that.
But she remembered quickly that none of those places were going to pay 80 grand a year, so she put on her game face. For that much money, she even went so far as to chide herself for not wearing something low cut to show off her impressive cleavage. Her jiggly chest certainly kept her husband’s attention. But she’d opted for a pale blue blouse that gave her the conservative look she preferred to have in public. Hopefully that wasn’t a deal breaker.
Finally it was her turn, and she stepped into the conference room for her interview. There were two people on the other side of a long table. The handsome man that called in the candidates, and a woman. The man came around the desk, and closed the door behind her, then offered his hand. “I’m Marcus,” he said kindly. He gestured towards the woman that hadn’t moved, but was perusing a file on the table. “This is Doris.”
Doris was much older than Marcus. Marcus was maybe in his mid thirties, early forties, but Doris looked like she was going on a hundred and twenty. Deep wrinkles and sagging jowls made Riley think that she’d judged Del Corp too harshly. Clearly they didn’t just care about looks if Doris worked here.
When Riley stopped looking at Doris and glanced back at Marcus, she noticed his eyes bounce up quickly to hers. He’d been looking at her chest. She kept the smile plastered on her face, but inside thought, “You’ll never see ‘em perv. They belong to my husband.”
Marcus took Riley’s application and took it to his side of the table. Riley took a seat across from them. Riley noticed Doris glanced at her application, putting a bony finger near the section that indicated her relationship status. She nodded and gave what could have been a sound of approval, or begrudging interest.
Marcus smiled, and tapped his right hand on the table, as he perused more of her application. The silver ring that he wore on that hand made a loud ting ting sound as he tapped. After his cursory glance, the interview began. There was a back and forth about Riley’s employment history. Some questions about her computer proficiency. Doris had frowned at that part, but Marcus had seemed undeterred.
Riley thought she’d answered all the questions well. Maybe everything was going her way. Then Doris finally fixed her eyes on her and she felt the color leave her face.
As Doris spoke, Riley was reminded of every mean spinster she’d ever seen in movies. “Miss Harper,” Doris began, putting an emphasis on the ‘Miss,’ “We are looking for someone who is motivated team player. You might be called on to perform a task for the company at all hours. Would that be a problem?”
Thinking about her first paycheck, Riley didn’t hesitate. “No, ma’am.”
Doris’s eyes became narrow slits. “Is there anything, or anyone, in your life that might slow you down or get in the way. Anyone you might be…beholden too?”
Had Riley not had the earlier conversation with Josie, she might not have immediately seen this as a way to ask about her relationship status without directly asking about it. It clearly was a big deal. But given that it truly was none of their business, she again answered, “Nope. It’s just me right now. Nothing tying me down. Completely single and live by my lonesome.” She stopped after that, worried she might have laid it on a little too thick.
Marcus smile grew very wide at that answer, and he shared a look with Doris, who also gave a smile, although a very tight lipped one.
“Well, we think you’ll be a perfect fit, Riley. We’d like you to start Monday.”
Riley’s jaw dropped. “So I got the job!” she squealed, wanting to leap up and bounce around the room.
“You got the job!” Marcus repeated, standing up and buttoning his suit. He came around the table and for a second Riley thought he was going to hug her, but then he put out his hand and said, “Welcome to the Del Corp family.”
She took it and enthusiastically said to him and Doris, “Thank you. Thank you! I won’t let you down.”
She then strode out confidently from the conference room. It would be a long drive home, but that was no problem now. She had a high paying job! She couldn’t wait to tell her husband.
Before they called the next candidate, Marcus said, “I’m going to enjoy that one. She’s just my type.”
Doris nodded smugly. “Me too. There’s definitely a demand for busty blondes from the clients. And there’s a real sweetness about her too. She’ll be in high demand for sure.”
An hour later, Ben was thrilled when his wife told him the news, but the money Riley was being offered almost seemed too good to be true though. “So…you’re gonna be doing what exactly?”
“It’s data entry basically for a bunch of rich clients I guess. It can’t be too hard though, cause they didn’t seem too worried about my work history.”
Ben gave his wife a wry smile and asked, “Was it a man who interviewed you?”
Riley crossed her arms over her ample chest. “Just what are you implying?”
“Only that you’re super hot, even with that blouse buttoned all the way to the top.”
Riley’s eyebrows shot up in mock annoyance. “I’ll have you know that it was a man AND a woman.”
“So they both had the hots for you?”
Riley took a playful swat at her husband, who backed out of reach at the last second. A second later, her fingers began unbuttoning her blouse from the top down. “If this outfit bothers you so much, I’ll just have to take it off.”
As a silky black bra came into view, Ben’s mouth began to water. It had been almost 10 hours since they’d had sex. Far too long for the newlywed couple. “Yeah. Yeah you should definitely take it off.”
“Are you saying that I only got the job because of my body?”
“I would never say such a thing,” Ben said, keen to not jeopardize his chances of getting some.
“Would YOU give me the job because of my body?” Riley asked as she reached behind to unfasten the bra.
“I would give you the job and a raise and immediately make you CEO for a glimpse of your boobs alone.”
She giggled, and he saw the bra tighten as she pulled at the clasp, then the release. He saw the tops of her boobs wobble as gravity tried to let them escape. But Riley held the bra in place with one hand, while the other slowly pulled down the straps. She loved how Ben looked at her. It was okay for him to look. She so wanted him to. He was still so captivated by her body, even after having seen it so many times. The anticipation of getting to see her boobs never failed to get him excited. And that’s what she wanted right then. To get him very excited, and to take her. She couldn’t think of a better way to celebrate.
“Wow,” Riley teased as she held the bra in place. “So I just have to show you my boobs, and you’ll give me the whole damn company?”
“I’d give you the whole world.”
“Good answer.” The bra fell. Boobs bounced out.
Riley tackled her man, and more clothes were quickly discarded so they could make love on their living room floor.
Ben was not a morning person, but that following Monday, he rose early to make his wife breakfast in bed. Pancakes, bacon, eggs, and juice. It was a sweet gesture, but cooking had never been his forte. He burned everything but the juice, and even that was a little close.
He still happily brought it to her on a tray, but when he entered their bedroom, found that his wife was already up and half dressed in bra and panties. “Babe,” he whined. “You’re supposed to still be in bed!”
Riley turned and saw the barely edible breakfast her man had prepared. Her smile was radiant as she sauntered towards him. “You are the sweetest husband I could ever asked for,” she gushed. “How did I ever get so lucky?”
She threw her arms around his neck, causing the contents of the tray to rattle precariously as Ben did his best to save it. He lost the juice. Its contents hit the carpet of their bedroom, but still he tried to salvage the moment. “Seriously Riley, get in bed!”
Riley gave a cute pout that she used when she wanted to get her way. It always worked on her husband. “But I don’t have time.”
Ben faltered at her cute face, but said, “Nuh uh, there’s still plenty of time for you to eat and get ready.”
She kissed his lips and said, “Not if I do this.” And she stepped back, and sank to her knees. As she did, she pulled down Ben’s boxers.
As soon as Ben saw what his wife intended to do, his dick raced to catch up, getting hard so fast it hit the underside of the tray he was still holding. “No, this is your big day!” he protested. “I’m the one who’s trying to do something for you!”
Riley giggled as she took the tray from him and placed it on the floor. “I know,” she said sweetly. “And its that fact that makes me want to suck you off Mr. Harper. So shh.” She took him into her mouth. She wasn’t the best at cocksucking, but loved the sounds Ben made as she slid her tongue up and down his shaft. His little whimpers of pleasure were so cute and sexy. She loved being able to please him. She loved him so very much.
She swallowed down what he gave her, and left him to eat the breakfast. She brushed her teeth, finished dressing, and grabbed a power bar in the kitchen. She was almost out the door when Ben called out, “Wait!”
“I gotta go Ben, it’s an hour away,” Riley said in mock exasperation. But still, she waited for her husband to walk quickly towards her so he could embrace her, picking her up off her feet and kissing her.
He didn’t care that his dick had been in her mouth minutes ago. He was so proud of her. Loved her so much. Would do anything for her. “Thank you for being so awesome. I know you’re gonna go kick some ass today.”
“Just have the house clean and dinner on the table when I come back, babe,” Riley said in as low a voice as she could muster.
‘Yeah, I can do breakfast again,” Ben offered seriously.
Riley made a small grimace and said, “Uh, ha ha, just kidding. I’ll pick up something for us on the way home. You’ve done enough cooking.”
Ben hung his head. “It’s the thought that counts right.”
“Oh, you mean the thought that got you a blowjob? Yeah, I’d say that worked out for ya.”
They laughed and hugged again, and then Riley was out the door.
An hour later, Riley showed up for her new hire orientation, along with three other candidates she’d seen in the waiting room.
Looks like no one else had made the cut, she thought.
Josie was there of course. She owed her a debt for giving her that advice. There was also the stunning red head, and a taller, slender blonde with smaller boobs than her own.
She noticed that as far as beauty standards went, these women were probably the top four or five most attractive from yesterday. Maybe these were the ones who had simply checked single. She needed to make sure not to bring up her marriage to any of them. Not yet at least. After a few months when she’d proved what a good worker she could be, she’d let them know.
As she thought about that, she wondered if she’d be able to keep quiet about her husband around her coworkers for so long! Working remotely one day a week would make that easier at least. She just loved Ben so much and wanted everyone to know how lucky she was. Even complete strangers!
The women all milled about in the waiting room. Riley assumed they’d have orientation in the same adjoining conference room. She was about to start asking for names, when Doris showed up through the set of double doors that led into the building. She studied them each in turn, saying nothing as her eyes scrutinized them, as if looking for flaws. There was no big welcome, not even a smile. But after staring at them, she motioned with a curled finger to follow her. She put a silver ring she wore on her right finger, and touched the sensor on the double doors. She led them out of the waiting room, and deep into the heart of Del Corp.
They walked down a long hallway, turned right, found a set of stairs that led down and followed them. Another long hallway. Another turn. Another set of stairs. On and on, Riley noticed that every door they’d passed so far since the entrance had been closed. They never passed an open office, or break room, or a conference room. Riley suddenly felt stifled, and was again thankful that she’d only have to be here once a week.
They did pass several men, all with big smiles on their faces and wandering eyes that didn’t disguise where they were looking. Riley was taken aback by this. She didn’t want to raise a fuss her first day, but she had a mind to get the names of everyone and report them to HR. Surely a successful company like this had a top notch human resources.
It wasn’t all men though. They also passed several women, mostly older, or obese, or with a disfigurement of some kind. They also looked at each of the new women shrewdly and appraisingly. Riley wondered if this was some kind of weird corporate hazing. If it was, she didn’t like it.
On the third flight down, they approached a room on their right that was making a loud hum, and Josie asked curiously, “What’s in there?”
“Main servers,” Doris replied with unveiled irritation. “You’ll never need to go in there. It’s always locked, and only a few people have access.”
Access. Riley noticed that every door had a sensor for keyless entry. This was a very secure facility. She was suddenly shocked that the company had not done a background check on her. What kind of company that seemed to value privacy and security would hire someone without doing a thorough background check.
‘It really is like, oh, you’re hot and single? Welcome to the team,’ Riley mused as her irritation for this place steadily rose. She tried to remember why she was here. She allowed a mantra to run through her mind over and over again. ‘The money. Remember the money. Remember you’ll be working from home. Remember that you’re doing all this for Ben, the love of your life, and the future that we have together.’
After going down two more floors and countless hallways, they reached a large rectangular room that was very nice and welcoming. It was completely the opposite of everything Riley had seen so far. There were fake plants scattered throughout, fancy art on the wall, and several of the most comfy looking couches Riley had ever seen forming an open square in the middle of the room. In the middle of that square was a low square coffee table, and Riley saw four laptops in a row.
“Have a seat there,” Doris said, pointing at the couch directly in front of those laptops.
Riley went and plopped down, being sure the yellow dress she’d picked out for her first day didn’t fly up too high. She assumed the dress was fine for this job. She didn’t have any business professional clothes as she’d only had jobs where you had a uniform before this one. She’d wear whatever they deemed appropriate though, within reason. She would not be wearing anything that showed more of her cleavage than she was comfortable with. Her momma had raised her right. She’d still gotten Ben, hadn’t she? Yes. Better to conceal the goods and make ‘em chase you to get what’s inside.
“Here are your bracelets,” Doris said, interrupting Riley’s thoughts again. The old woman spoke in a dry, monotone, as if this were the last thing she wanted to be doing in the world. “After today you’ll need these bracelets to get in the building. They also monitor your health, because we care about our employees. If you suspect one is ever malfunctioning, report it immediately. Whatever you do, do not take it off unless you have the permission of a supervisor. Removal of it for any other reason will result in immediate termination.”
“But what if it doesn’t go with my outfit,” the redhead quipped.
Doris smiled, but not pleasantly. It was like the smile of a bully who enjoyed watching his victim squirm. “Oh, I think that you’ll find very soon that it will go with everything.”
The redhead frowned and sighed sarcastically. “Not likely, but if that’s the job, I’ll do it for as long as I’m here.”
By the sound of that, Riley thought that she might not last the week. Clearly she didn’t need the money as bad as Riley did.
Riley accepted her bracelet. It looked like a combination of jewelry and technology. The top half was flat and smooth, and Riley realized that it was capable of displaying messages as the phrase, “Welcome to Del Corp Riley,” was scrolling on hers. It was a bit heavy and bulky though underneath. Riley snapped it easily in place, but as she spun her wrist, she didn’t see an easy way to unfasten it. It felt very tight. Was she really going to have to wear this thing all the time?
‘The money, the money, the money…’
With the bracelets securely fastened, the four women listened as Doris began to speak to them, sounding almost bored now. “In a moment you’ll be meeting our CEO Avery Smith and three of the board members, but first, I’ll reintroduce you to your team lead, Marcus Orion.”
On cue, Marcus entered through a door opposite the one they’d come in, his arms stretched wide, his grin even wider. “Welcome new hires! I am so glad to see you today. Who’s ready to get started?”
Doris, her job apparently done, passed him on her way out of the room. She seemed very relieved to not have to be there anymore.
Marcus was the opposite of Doris, and seemed genuinely excited to have them here. “Ladies, I can’t tell you how pleased I am to have this opportunity with you all. I’m going to be your primary handler. Doris will be my second. If for any reason you cannot reach me, you will report to her with any problems. Before you leave, both of our numbers will be in your phones.”
Riley raised her hand, as she had questions about the word, ‘handler.’
Marcus ignored her hand and pressed on enthusiastically. “Please turn on the laptop directly in front of each of you. These are state of the art computers that have been designed and manufactured entirely in house. I promise you they are better than anything on the market, and they’ll be what you’re using to work remotely. So fire them up, and then members of our senior leadership will be joining us.”
Riley hesitated, but lowered her hand and pressed the laptop’s power button. It didn’t look all that impressive. It just looked like a standard 16 inch laptop. It was fast though. The screen came to life almost instantaneously with the message, “Welcome to Del Corp. Please sync your bracelet.”
Josie was already looking at Marcus and asking, “How do we sync our bracelets?”
“Fantastic question Josie,” Marcus said grinning ear to ear. Just press the clasp on the bottom end to the pad on the lower right side of your keyboard. No, no, wait!” Marcus said, and his tone shifted quickly to silky smooth, to loud and abrasive.
Josie froze, and looked up at Marcus with an eyebrow raised. She was not accustomed to people snapping at her like that. Josie also needed the money, but still, she’d rather walk away than be disrespected.
Marcus’s wide smile was back in a flash. “Sorry, sorry,” he said as he clasped his palms together apologetically and shook them twice at Josie. “Please forgive me. It’s just important that we’re in sync, when we sync.” He laughed at his own lame joke, and paused for them to follow suit. When they didn’t, he said, “Bear with me. This is my first time being a Team Lead.” He put his hand on his heart. “I will get it right next time, you have my word.”
“Can we just get on with this,” said the other blonde.
Riley thought everyone seemed annoyed now. And why wouldn’t they be? Doris had acted like leading them here had been a big inconvenience. They’d gotten ogled repeatedly on the long walk to this room. They had to wear this bracelet which was transmitting who knew what kind of biometric data to the company. And now Marcus had just yelled at them.
“Okay, here we go,” Marcus said, undeterred by their lack of enthusiasm. He began to wave his hands like a conductor of a symphony. “I’ll count it down from 3, and then everyone press your bracelet to the spot on the laptop. 3. 2. 1. Sync!”
All four women placed their bracelet on their laptop, and all four felt a sharp jab as the tiny needle under the clasp pierced their skin and injected a milligram of nanites into their bloodstream.
A chorus of surprised objections arose.
“Ow! What was-”
“Something just stuck me!”
“What the hell?!”
Every woman but Riley had complained loudly except her. She’d only made a shrill whimper. She hated shots, and whatever that was had been right under her wrist, probably hitting the vein there.
“Sorry about that,” Marcus said as he pulled out a smartphone. He began to tap at the screen. “Just give it a minute to spread through your body and then you won’t care anymore.”
“Excuse me?” Josie snapped.
‘That’s it,” the redhead said standing briskly to her feet. “I’ve had enough. Get this damn thing off of me.” She began to fumble with the clasp with shaky fingers.
“Leadership told me there’s always one,” Marcus muttered. His voice became higher and insistent. “Everyone who leaves their bracelet on for just another 50 seconds will receive a thousand dollars, even if you quit immediately after.”
“I’m gonna get a lot more than that in the lawsuit I file against this company,” the red head hissed as she looked for a watch to unclasp it. But the more she inspected it, the more her fingers didn’t seem to want to cooperate.
Marcus was pleased to see her struggle, but still looked at her warily. Then his phone pinged. “Oh wow, one of you is already online. Good. Let’s see who…ah,” he said, winking at Josie. “The one who is always just ahead of everyone else. Makes sense.”
“Online?” the redhead exclaimed. “I don’t think so!” She forced her fingers underneath the clasp, trying to create enough pressure to unfasten it. Suddenly the arm she was using to apply the pressure tensed up as if she’d just received an electric jolt. “Ah! What was that!”
“It’s just the nanites keeping you from taking off the bracelet. That’s the last line of defense. But we won’t have to worry about that for much longer because…” Marcus’s phone pinged. “There we go, you’re online now too.”
It was Josie’s turn to stand, and she offered her left hand, the hand with that accursed bracelet, to help Riley up off the couch. Riley was reaching for it as Josie said briskly, “I didn’t sign up for this. Neither did she. We’re leaving.”
A third ping. Riley’s hand was in Josie’s. She was looking up into her face when Marcus said calmly, “Blank slate.”
“Blank slate confirmed,” said three female voices, perfectly in sync and without emotion.
Riley felt Josie’s hand go limp in hers, and watched in horror as the brunette’s eyes rolled into the back of her head so that only the whites were shown.
“I don’t understand,” Riley said, hearing the panic in her voice as she leaned forward and looked at the other two women. They all had the same blank expression.
“Me neither,” Marcus drawled. “Sometimes it takes a little longer for the nanites to circulate in some people. You must be pretty stubborn Riley. But everyone succumbs to the nanites eventually. No one’s ever failed to come online in under 90 seconds.”
His eyes raked over her body now with obvious sexual interest. Riley sprang to her feet and tugged at Josie’s limp arm. “Josie! Josie answer me right now! We need to leave! We need to-”
Ping.
Riley’s heart pounded in her chest at the sound of that fourth ping. Whatever was happening to these women, was about to happen to her.
“There we go,” Marcus said with an eerie smile. “Don’t worry. When this is all over, you’re gonna think you had a fantastic first day.”
“Please don’t-” Riley began, but saw Marcus mouth the words blank slate. She was vaguely aware of her own lips moving as she said in a monotone voice, “Blank slate confirmed.” And then all she knew was ignorant bliss as her eyes rolled up into her head.
“Time to meet our corporate overlords,” Marcus said happily. He hit a button on his phone that said Upload. He selected each woman, then pressed enter.
Each bracelet came to life with a soft chime. Each woman said in a robotic voice, “Uploading. Uploading. Uploading. Upload complete.”
Riley’s blue eyes came back down, and she looked at Marcus with a wry smile. “You need to do a better job at putting them at ease, Marcus.”
Josie’s brown eyes were on Marcus as well, her voice had an edge to it. “Maybe we were too hasty in promoting him to team lead, Avery I really thought he was going to lose control there for a moment.”
The redhead was not looking at Marcus, but was running her hands up her sides and over her chest. “Now now, gentlemen. It was his first time. He’s still got the drive and charisma we’re looking for, and is doing great and recruiting clients. Let’s let him off with a warning.”
The unnamed blonde didn’t seem to be interested in Marcus at all as her hands had begun to squeeze her tight buttocks. “What an amazing specimen. Surprised I didn’t have to fight you all for the chance to have her first.”
Riley’s voice became authoritative as she addressed the blonde. “Don’t get to carried away, Jenkins. This is just about meeting them, ensuring there’s no problem with the upload process, then sending them off for their physicals.”
The blonde’s face soured as she looked at Riley. She did not stop massaging her rear. “I helped write the protocols, Avery. There’s no harm in a little groping before we log out.”
Riley gave a perverted giggle. “Yes, I know. It’s tradition. We just musn’t go too overboard in case we have to release any of them back into the wild.”
Having said this, Marcus watched enviably as the four women groped and fondled their bodies over their clothes. A few minutes ticked by, but Marcus would have gladly watched his superiors explore the new hires for as long as he was allowed.
Riley had pulled her blouse aways from her chest and was taking a long look down it. Her face made it clear that she liked what she saw. She released the fabric, letting it snap back with a little less elasticity. “Okay, that’s enough gentlemen,” she announced with finality. “I think we’ve excited poor Marcus enough.”
It was true. He had not wanted to get an erection in front of his bosses, but seeing them inhabiting the bodies of these beautiful women, making them touch themselves provocatively, he was at full mast. He positioned his hands over his front, and tried to keep from gawking.
“It’s only fair,” Josie chuckled at him. “We’re all going to have erections when we are back in our bodies. Speaking of, you already sent a girl to each of our houses, correct Marcus?”
Marcus gave a curt nod. “Yes sir. Their bracelets were activated before this meeting, and they should all be at your house by the time you log out.”
“Excellent,” Riley said, and she stepped closer to Marcus. She took one of the hands covering his erection and placed it on her breast. “Don’t worry Marcus. You managed to get them to sync their bracelets without resorting to force, which might have damaged the merchandise. So we’ll still let you do their field tests. They are the first members of your team after all.” Riley helped the man squeeze her boob softly, looking up into his eyes with a mischievous smirk. “I bet you can’t wait.”
“N-no, s-sir,” Marcus stammered.
“I do think that’s the first time I’ve seen you flustered Marcus,” the redhead said with a laugh.
Riley released Marcus’s hand and stepped back. “You know what’s next. Keep them in blank slate mode and send them to their physicals. The doctor will check for STD’s and any other illnesses or maladies that would be a disruption to our company. We only provide the best for our clients. After that, the standing brainwashing program before we sent them off with their take home bag to…” Riley trailed off, then gave a sharp laugh. “Marcus, I don’t mind if you stare, but try to keep your mouth shut when you do. You look ridiculous.”
Marcus had been trying to look the CEO, Avery Smith, in the blue eyes of this gorgeous creature. But his eyes kept wandering to other areas. He was already thinking about tomorrow’s field tests. How he’d be in Riley’s home. How he could touch her as much as he wanted. His imagination was already running wild, but Avery’s subtle chastisement had snapped him out of it.
“Yes, of…of course Avery, er, Mr. Smith.”
The corner of Riley’s mouth went up, and she raised her hand and cupped her right boob as she looked at the other women. “I think our boy’s got it bad for this one.” The women nodded back at Riley, each of them smirking as well. Back at Marcus, Riley said, “We all have our favorites, but don’t monopolize her too much. But…you are her handler, so take a few days to get her out of your system after the field tests are over.”
“If she passes that is,” Josie said quickly.
“Naturally,” Riley retorted, looking annoyed. “Marcus has been warned. Should he find any red flags, she’ll go back to her normal life. Isn’t that right Marcus.”
“Of course, sir,” Marcus replied.
“Good,” Riley said, and smiled at him. Then she blew him a kiss. “Now be a good boy and send us back.”
“Right away sir,” Marcus said. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to get used to meeting his bosses this way. He quickly selected all four women on his cell phone, and disconnected them. HIs shoulders slumped a little. He knew the men were in their respective homes and could still see him on the cameras mounted all around the room. But they were probably focused on the women now at their door that would attend to those pesky erections rather than him.
Marcus, on the other hand, would have to wait until later to have his relief. What he wouldn’t give to have his way with any of the women on the couch right now. Especially Riley. But he had his orders.
With blank slate mode still active by default, he said, “Grab your laptops and follow me so we can get your physicals underway.”
“Yes sir,” the four women responded at once. Their eyes focused on the command at hand, and like obedient worker drones, the four women retrieved their laptops from the coffee table. They formed a single line behind their boss. Their movements were precise, and they marched in step as Marcus led them from the room. They followed Marcus back into the series of hallways, and up a flight of stairs. Several doors that had been closed were now suddenly open, as staff at Del Corp wanted to assess the recent new hires. Programmers, team leads, technicians, cooks, paper pushers, analysis, recruiters, marketing, and more all watched the synchronized steps of the attractive women as they marched past. This time the women didn’t mind the stares, because none of them had a thought in their head other than following their team lead.
The workers of Del Corp with free will were all picking out their favorite new hire, making a note of who they’d spend time with during their breaks in the weeks ahead. The pretty blonde just behind Marcus seemed to be the most popular candidate by far.
They eventually passed through a door that Marcus unlocked by pressing the ring he wore on his right hand against a sensor. They stepped into a well lit sterile room with medical equipment and exam tables. A pudgy older man in a doctor’s coat was there to greet them. He was flanked by two very beautiful women who wore a vacant smile and nothing else.
“Did the old men have their fun?” the doctor asked Marcus politely, although his eyes did not meet him. They were focused on his four new patients who had followed obediently after him.
Marcus let out a sigh, but smiled. “If by fun you mean taking the piss out of me, then yes.”
The doctor laughed. “Sounds like them. Well, let’s get this show on the road. New hires, each of you hop up on one of the exam tables.”
The order was received with unflinching obedience as the four women walked purposefully into the sterile room, their shoes clicking on the white tiled floor. They each picked a gynecology exam table and sat there.
“I’ll be back when you’ve run your tests,” Marcus said, and left to go to his office. On the way he grabbed a woman with a bracelet who had been programmed to clean on her weekly visit to Del Corp. She didn’t protest, but allowed herself to be dragged along. She even seemed happy to have been chosen for whatever task Marcus had in mind.
When they arrived at his office, Marcus didn’t talk to her, just stripped off her clothes, bent her over his desk, and fucked her. He thought of Riley, the pretty doe eyed blonde that had been so sweet and chaste during the interview. He thought of Avery being inside her, teasing him with her body, making him grope her. He thought of what tomorrow would bring, and he came. He told the girl to clean up the mess, and then sat down in his chair. He’d needed that. He could finally think straight again..
Back in the exam room, the doctor’s nude assistants helped the doctor with silent efficiency. He’d trained them to help draw blood, check reflexes, take blood pressure, examine pupils, ears, gums, and more. They’d help him record it all. The new hires were perfectly calm during this whole process.
The cursory examination over, the doctor ordered them to remove their clothes. The four new hires all stood and undressed quickly. There was nothing sensual about their movements, just the subconscious desire to follow the order as expediently as possible.
The doctor gave orders to his assistants to pull out the stirrups attached to the tables, then had the new hires put their feet in them. They all did with no complaint. Each of them laying slightly back, their legs spread wide for the doctor. He gave each woman a pelvic exam. They did not flinch as his fingers pushed into them. Did not make a sound. They merely laid there as if this were all routine.
“Okay, that’s that,” the doctor said as he took off his gloves. “Get dressed, new hires.” As the naked women complied, he sent an assistant to fetch Marcus. Upon his return, the doctor told him, “I’ll have the lab results before you leave today. You can take them to get fitted and supplied now.”
Marcus was aware that the doctor had just seen these women naked before he had. He was not jealous though. He considered himself patient. He’d worked hard to get where he was. And tomorrow, he’d be able to upload into any of them and have complete control of their bodies. And when they returned next week, he could order them to do all manner of sexual acts on him, and they would agree readily.
When the new hires weren’t being made to serve him sexually or one of the other employees at Del Corp, they’d be ordered to do the mundane tasks. Like cleaning, or secretarial work, or anything that anyone deemed beneath them in this place. Thanks to different women being forced to come in on different days throughout the week, they always had plenty of willing slaves to do the grunt work at headquarters. But between now and next week, the new hires were strictly off limits until the field tests had been run.
As Marcus next led the women to a series of rooms that would get their measurements for clothes, outfits, and sex toys they might need while servicing a client, Ben was doing what Riley had joked about when she left. He was making the house sparkling clean. In their first five weeks of marriage, they’d fallen into stereotypical gender roles, where Ben played video games and did nothing, and Riley did everything that needed done like laundry, cleaning, and cooking. It had been a big step for Ben to make breakfast that morning. Now he tried his hand at laundry and cleaning. He was better at them than breakfast for sure. Riley would be so happy, that maybe he could talk her into doing something kinky tonight.
Being raised in a very conservative family, Riley had been a virgin when they got married. But Ben hadn’t. Far from it. He’d never admit to being a sex addict, but considered it a possibility. Before dating Riley, he’d had a few one night stands, some long term girlfriends, and had developed quite a few kinks thanks to those women. And porn. He’d watched porn every day, and was always finding something new he’d like to try in the bedroom with a girl, but Riley had put a stop to all that when they’d got married.
Riley didn’t want him watching porn or masturbating. The first time she’d told him, he’d thought she was joking. Riley’s hurt face let him know that she wasn’t. She wanted to be enough for him. Didn’t want him looking at girls online and getting ideas for positions or roleplay. Ben had hoped that over time his bride would change her mind about some of that, but except for the infrequent blowjobs, she would only do missionary or on top.
Because of his love for her, he’d stopped watching porn and jerking off. It hadn’t been too difficult, because Riley was usually around. As they both tended to work 2nd shift, they could fuck in the morning, and then again when they both got home. But now she had a 40 hour or more job a that took her away from him during a time where he was home by himself.
The hours seemed to drag by, and even though he’d gotten blown early that morning, he was already thinking about looking up his old friend pornography by the time noon rolled around. But he knew it would most likely affect his performance that night with his wife. So he waited, and focused on making the interior of their house shine.
It was mid afternoon when Marcus got the bad news. He’d just presented the women with a small boxed meal and told them to eat. It was a flavorless, tasteless mush, and was very cheap to manufacture. They chewed and swallowed it as they were told. Marcus watched them shovel it down while he ate a steak their onsite chef had prepared. He couldn’t stop smiling, that is, until the doctor walked in.
“I’m afraid I have some bad news,” the doctor said gravely.
Marcus put his fork down and asked, “Well, don’t keep me in suspense. What’s the problem?”
“The blonde is pregnant.”
Marcus wiped his mouth and slammed a fist on the table. “Dammit!” His eyes fell upon Riley. He did not want to lose her, but a pregnancy meant instant termination. The nanites could stop future pregnancies, but not the one she’d come in here with. “Are you sure?”
The doctor nodded, then looked at who Marcus had focused on. “Oh, sorry. Forgot you had two blondes. Not that one. The other one,” he said, pointing at the unnamed blonde who sat there quietly eating her mush.
Relief flooded Marcus. It wasn’t great that he was already down a team member, but it hadn’t been Riley. Besides, it was easy to recruit. He’d just put out another ad that promised big money while working from home.
“Kathleen,” he said sternly. The blonde now known as Kathleen stopped eating and looked at him keenly. “Pitch your food and go wait in the conference room you interviewed in last week. Turn on the monitor in there, and watch the exit interview until I come to fire you.”
“Yes sir,” Kathleen said, and without hesitation she stood, dropped her food in a trash bin, and made her way to the conference room.
After she exited, the doctor reported the rest of his findings. “All the rest are very healthy. Two of them have been sexually active however,” he said, pointing at Riley and the redhead. “Their swabs had traces of sperm under the microscope. Could be a one night stand, or something more serious. Easiest way is just to ask and-”
Fearing that he might hear something he didn’t want to, Marcus cut him off. “Thanks doctor, I’ll take it from here.”
“But the board will want to-” the doctor began with a raised eyebrow.
Anger rose in Marcus, but he tapered it down and replied calmly, “Don’t worry about the board I will handle it. If I find any problems during the field tests, I’ll take the necessary steps to deal with them.”
The doctor let out a knowing sigh. “Ah, I get it. You really want to field test them. Fair enough.”
“So you’ll leave that out of the report?”
“If she gets the greenlight,” the doctor said, pointing at Riley, “You let me have first dibs when she comes back in.”
‘You can have my sloppy seconds,’ Marcus thought. Out loud he said. “I think we can make that happen.”
The doctor extended a hand, and Marcus shook it. “Well then, I found no traces of sexual activity. See you next week, ladies.”
They did not stay goodbye, or give any other parting niceties. They just sat there. Their meal finished, and the empty box on their laps. They simply stared straight ahead, and awaited their next command.
Marcus ushered them to their last stop for their first day. This room had several cubicle workstations, each with a laptop that resembled the ones they would be taking home. Marcus had them each log on, and click on a program that walked them through an endless series of data entry. They copied one set of numbers from one place on the screen to another. Dragged one file here, another there. They opened spreadsheet after spreadsheet. None of it meant anything, but served one purpose. It helped cement the illusion. It gave the lie a solid foundation on which to stand.
Should these women ever question in the outside world what their job really entailed, the nanites would lead their minds back to this place. This moment. Where they dragged and clicked and typed over and over again. It’s what they would think they were doing all day instead of doing menial tasks and getting fucked. It’s what they think they would be doing in their homes, even as client after client came to see them to use their bodies. Just another boring day, entering facts and figures.
But as boring as they might remember it being, they would never want to leave. They would be so happy with their job. Because as they stared at their monitors, they each began to intermittently flashed the core tenets they would come to live by until they were released from their employ.
Over and over again during those last few hours, the following messages were repeated on a loop.
You love Del Corp.
You will be faithful to Del Corp and its employees.
You will not draw undue attention to yourself outside of work.
You never want to take off your bracelet.
When your bracelet pings, you will log onto your computer at work within 30 minutes. If unable, you will call your team lead.
Always do what your team lead tells you to do.
Always believe whatever your team lead tells you.
When you are on Del Corp property, you will be an obedient slut, doing whatever tasks required of you.
You will feel grateful to be of use to any Del Corp employee.
You will take good care of your body, because it belongs to Del Corp, its employees, and its clients.
You live to serve your team lead, Del Corp employees, and those we deem clients.
You no longer care about having a social life.
You no longer care about dating anyone.
If you are currently dating someone, you will break up with them as soon as possible in a way that does not bring undue attention to Del Corp.
You do not seek sexual intimacy outside the confines of Del Corp employees and clients.
You are focused on being the best employee you can be.
You will only ever remember doing data entry when working remotely.
You will stow your take home bag in a secure place in your home and not look in it unless directed to by a client or team lead.
You will do everything in your power to protect Del Corp and its employees.
When asked, you will always describe your job as ‘boring data entry.’
If pressed for more information about Del Corp beyond that, you will respond with, ‘We value our clients’ privacy so I can’t elaborate further.’
Should anyone seem a threat to Del Corp, you will report to your team leader as soon as possible and await further instructions.
Riley blinked. She felt like she’d been staring at this screen forever, but saw in the lower left hand corner of her monitor that there was only five minutes left of work today! The job was tedious, but not at all hard. She found she didn’t mind it though. She was going to love working for Del Corp, and was thankful to have gotten Marcus as her team lead.
Marcus walked between their cubicles and announced, “Time to punch out ladies. You’ll find your laptop and take home bag are waiting for you at the exit. You all did wonderful today. I don’t see you all back again here until next…” he checked his phone, “a week from tomorrow.”
Riley’s face fell a bit. In such a short time she’d grown to love this place and her team. She looked at the others, and saw their faces mirror hers.
“I know, I’ll miss you too,” Marcus said with a wide grin. “Say, what did you all think of that delicious steak dinner we had for lunch today?”
“Steak…dinner?” Josie asked, furrowing her brow.
This was a simple test to see if the programming had worked. It was one thing for them to be in blank slate mode. They were more like mindless functioning robots in that state. The real test came when they were back to themselves.
“Yes,” Marcus said confidently, trusting that the nanites and brainwashing they’d received would dictate their reality. “You all had a wonderful steak dinner. You thought it was amazing. You even licked your plate clean Josie, remember?”
Josie blushed. She did remember now. It had been the best steak of her life. “I guess…I was just really hungry.”
“Thank you for feeding us such a great meal!” Riley exclaimed. “Do we get to eat that good every time we come?”
Marcus stepped towards her and said with a wink, “I think you’ll always leave here with something yummy in your bellies.”
All the girls smiled at each other, already looking forward to next Tuesday’s lunch time.
“Ladies, you’ll believe whatever I tell you, correct?” Marcus asked.
“Yes sir,” the three new hires said in perfect unison.
“And you’ll do whatever I tell you, correct?”
“Yes sir!” the ladies replied cheerily.
“Good,” Marcus said, his smile curving into something sinister. “I want you each logging in at 9am sharp every day and running the data entry program. Keep familiarizing yourself with it so that we can eliminate possible errors for our clients.” Doing this would ensure the brainwashing cemented itself in their brains.
Marcus continued. “I’ll be chatting with each of you individually over the next few days. Riley, you’ll be first up tomorrow. It’ll be a video chat, so please wear something that shows off your boobs.”
Riley’s thoughts hit a wall suddenly. The training, the steak dinner, all of that had been great, but, to ask Riley to show off her boobs on a conference call was…was…
Marcus watched Riley’s face contort while the nanites made her accept the programming. Her resistance met a torrent of words that seemed to imprint on her very soul.
‘I will do what my team lead tells me to do. I live to serve my team lead. I will obey him. I will wear whatever Marcus tells me, because he is my team lead and I am his obedient slut.
Riley’s face smoothed out, and she beamed at him before saying happily, “Yes sir.”
“Good girl,” Marcus said, then looked at the other two. “And I’ll expect you both to do the same. Actually Josie, you wear nothing at all.”
The two women had already been having an internal struggle after hearing what he’d said to Riley, so they were quicker at both saying, “Yes, sir,” but not quite as in sync.
“Make sure our video chats are in a private area in your house. An office space, bedroom, bathroom, whatever. And you’re not to be disturbed during this time.”
All of this was to limit exposure to a family member, boyfriend, girlfriend, or roommate. They could all be dealt with over a short period of time, but the field test was crucial in ensuring Del Corp’s safety protocols.”
“If all goes well after those video chats, you’ll be ready to handle clients. I hope to be sending you each several by the end of the week. Now head home. You’ve all done great work today.”
Marcus led them back the way they came. The walk didn’t seem as far now. The building that had once seen drab and foreboding now felt so much like home. She wished she didn’t have to leave. She loved Del Corp.
“I’m going to be thinking about that steak all week,” Josie confessed to Riley as they stepped out into the sunlight.
“Me too!” Riley laughed.
“I can’t believe I licked the plate in front of all of you. That’s…not something I’d usually do.”
The image swam vividly in Riley’s mind. Josie’s hands picking up a white plate with the remnants of savory juice on it. Josie’s face drawing near it. Her tongue sticking out and licking it from top to bottom until it was all clean. She found her own mouth watering as she remembered the taste of it.
“If I had my plate in front of me right now, I’d do it too.”
They said goodbye as they headed to their own cars, and headed home.
Marcus went to the conference room where the pregnant blonde was. Kathleen had watched the exit interview video over and over again so the message of it would be very clear in her mind.
It had read as follows:
I am grateful for the opportunity, but this job just wasn’t for me. It was my decision to leave. I will find work elsewhere. I will surrender my bracelet, and leave immediately..
Marcus pulled her up on his phone and took her out of blank slate mode, and deactivated the nanites in her body. Without the bracelet, they would pass out of her naturally over the next 24 hours, but the brainwashing she’d received should hold.
Lastly, he put his hand on the bracelet and said, “Release.” With a smooth click, it unlatched, and hung loosely on Kathleen’s arm.
A few seconds passed, and Kathleen blinked and looked around as if waking from sleep.
“Well, I’m sorry it didn’t work out,” Marcus said, extending a hand to her.
“No, no,” she said sincerely as she accepted it. “I’m so grateful for the opportunity, but this job just isn’t for me. I’ll just have to find work elsewhere.”
Marcus nodded, then gestured towards the door. She took off her bracelet and set it on the table, then walked out. As soon as she was out of sight, Marcus shook his head. She would have been a great addition. Pity he never got to field test or fuck her. Maybe someday the company would start accepting pregnant women. Or married women for that matter. He had a client that would pay a small fortune for the chance to have regular sessions with a married woman. Apparently it was a big fetish of his. But right now the board’s mandate was clear. They only enslaved and hopped unattached women that would not raise suspicion. They wanted to be in business for a long, long time.
The whole drive home Riley kept thinking how much she loved Del Corp. How much she loved her team. Marcus, Josie, and… and there were two more, weren’t there? Another blonde like her, but…but she hadn’t seen her on the way out. But the beautiful redhead had been there. How had she not gotten her name? That was very rude of her, and quite embarrassing!
As she questioned this egregious oversight, the memory of typing numbers and clicking a mouse came into her mind very strongly. She just hadn’t had a chance was all. All she could remember was her time at the computer, and a wonderful steak dinner that the company had so generously provided. She was so lucky to have gotten the chance to work for them. She would make them proud. She belonged there. She belonged to Del Corp. All of her belonged to them. Her mind and her body.
Riley had been so enraptured by how amazing her orientation had been, that she almost forgot to pick up food on the way home. But as her stomach growled, she remembered she needed to take care of her body, so she stopped by a fast food place. Instead of her typical burger and fries, she got a salad. She paid for it and was about to pull onto the street, when she realized she’d forgotten Ben. How could she forget her wonderful husband? She drove back around, and got him a salad too.
Ben was famished by the time Riley walked through the front door, but first made a grand sweeping gesture at the house. “Ta da!” he exclaimed as she walked past him carrying a large black duffel and two fast food bag. She didn’t seem to notice how he’d swept, mopped, done the dishes, and had the place cleaner than it had been in a couple of weeks.
In fact, she didn’t say anything, didn’t even give him a kiss. She set the fast food bags on the table, and then disappeared into their guest bedroom that would now serve as Riley’s office. She stowed the bag in the highest part of the closet in there, and moved a box in front of it. Hopefully that would keep the contents secure. She wondered what was in the bag, and had the desire to check. But then very strongly in her mind came a pulsing thought.
You will not look in it unless directed to by a client or team lead.
Riley’s eyes unfocused and heard herself say aloud in a monotone voice, “I will not look in it unless directed by a client or team lead.” She looked around. What had she been thinking? Oh yes. She needed to take care of her body. She went back to the dining room and sat down at the table.
Ben was now feeling a little ruffled. “Uh, ahem, nothing? No, wow hon, the place looks great! This must have taken you all day.’”
Riley was unpacking her salad, but did stop to look around. “Oh, yeah, wow,” she said with less enthusiasm in her voice than Ben had been hoping for. “Come eat, Ben, and I’ll tell you what a great company Del Corp is.”
For the love of his wife, Ben chose to let it go and joined her at the table. His face fell though as he realized he was also eating a salad. “Hey, what was in that bag you brought in?”
“Work stuff,” Riley said quickly. She then proceeded to prattle on about how amazing Del Corp is. How great her team lead Marcus was. How all the people there were great. How her clients would great and how she might have some by the end of the week. How she couldn’t wait to log on to her new company laptop tomorrow to start working hard.
As she unpacked her day, the realized that she would have to break up with Ben. That was unfortunate, but it was a directive from the company, so she’d have to go through with it. She should do it now, but the way he was looking at her, like everything she said was so important, like she were the only woman in the world. Despite a growing desire to tell him they were through then and there, she convinced herself to do it tomorrow, or maybe even push it off till the weekend. She just wanted to stay with him a bit longer.
It was at this point, Ben got a word in edgewise. “So, what exactly will you be doing?”
“Boring data entry,” Riley said wistfully, as if it was all she wanted to do for the rest of her life.
“Uh, wow, you make it sound so exciting,” Ben quipped. “Seriously though, what kind of data entry? What kind of information will you be-”
Riley’s eye twitched, and then words burst forcefully out of her, “We value our clients’ privacy so I can’t elaborate further.” She took a bite of salad and considered the matter settled.
Ben was taken aback. “C’mon Riles, we’re not dating. We’re married. Husband and wife. Surely you can tell me of all people.”
Her husband’s words changed everything. It was true. They weren’t dating. They were married. She would not have to break up with him because they were not dating. She checked them carefully against what she knew of Del Corp’s mandates, and her mind seemed to accept this. She was so relieved.
Ben laughed at her silence. “What? Are they a dark and shady organization that is trying to enslave the general populace?”
Riley suddenly tensed. Ben was asking her to go against company policy by telling him what they did there. Why couldn’t he just accept her answer? Did he pose a threat to Del Corp? She tried to calm herself, tried to make sure not to draw any undue attention. With a sweeter but still serious disposition, she said, “Ben, honey, I’m telling you I can’t talk about it. So drop it.”
Ben looked down at his salad. This evening was not going as planned. She knew he hated salad. Why had she brought him one? She hadn’t even called and asked what he wanted. It’s like he’d been an afterthought. Surely the honeymoon stage couldn’t be over already. He tried to let it all pass. He loved her and she loved him. They’d go to bed together soon. They’d make love. “Fine,” he finally said. “I’m gonna go make a sandwich.”
Riley didn’t stop him, but was a little perturbed he didn’t seem to appreciate the salad she’d brought him because… because he… no. No!. Only she needed to take care of her body. But, as his wife, she wanted him to take care of his body too. Just, for her, it was a mandate. She NEEDED to take care of her body. If he wanted to make a sandwich that was fine. She found herself calming quickly, and got up as soon as she was done.
As Ben sat down at a vacant table, Riley went to work out on their treadmill. It had been a wedding present, and she’d only used it once. Now it seemed very important. She needed to take care of her body, and working out was a good way to do that.
A disconnect grew through the night as the couple seemed to keep going their separate ways. Ben tried to get her to cuddle on the couch and watch a movie, but she got lost in a skin care regimen that seemed to take forever.
As it got dark, Ben heard Riley say from their bedroom, “Goodnight, Ben.” And then the door shut.
Ben quickly got up from the couch to join his wife in their marital bed. He had his clothes off in a flash, and got under the covers. She was turned on her side away from him. He loved the feeling of pressing his boner against her round ass. But Instead of her warm, smooth, naked skin, he pressed up against fluffy pajamas. He tried not to sound indignant as he asked, “Why are you wearing clothes?” They hadn’t been wearing clothes to bed for the last five weeks, save some skimpy lingerie that Riley would put on sometimes.
“I was chilly,” Riley said simply.
“But, I always warm you up, don’t I?” Ben said hopefully as he wrapped an arm around her waist. His hand lifted up the bottom of her shirt, and he felt her skin. It traveled up quickly to her breast. He was already so hard. He was glad he’d waited for her. He would be inside her soon and everything would be perfect again.
As Riley felt her husband’s hands fondle her breasts, she felt a spark between her legs, and butterflies in her tummy. She wanted to roll over. To kiss him. To let his hands eagerly explore her as they so often had. To let him be in awe of her body. It was his after all.
But that…that wasn’t right. It wasn’t his body. Her body belonged to Del Corp. And she did not seek sexual intimacy from anyone but Del Corp employees and clients. Her body belonged to them now. This fact seemed to repent nonstop in her mind as she slowly brought her hand down, and pushed Ben’s away from her breasts. The brief twinge of sexual desire had faded entirely.
“What gives, Riles?” Ben asked, hurt in his voice. “Look, I’m sorry if you thought I was prying. I’ll respect that you can’t talk about your work.”
“It’s not that,” Riley said, feeling bad for turning him down. Why couldn’t he understand? She loved him, but he was not a Del Corp employee or client. But she couldn’t tell him that, because it would draw undue attention to Del Corp. So she made up another excuse. “I’m just…tired, honey. Long day, and I gotta be up early in the morning to log on to work.”
“I’ll…I’ll be super fast,” Ben said.
“No, Ben,” Riley answered quietly but firmly.
Ben’s boner was in full retreat. “Can I hold you at least?”
Riley thought about that. Holding wasn’t sexual, and Ben was her husband. “Yeah. I’d like that.”
So he did. He held her tight and whispered in her ear, “I love you. I really do. Maybe we can do it first thing in the morning.”
“Maybe,” Riley hedged. But she knew she would not let him have her. She was already planning to be up before him. To shower and shave her legs and maybe even put some makeup before she found an outfit that would accentuate her cleavage for Marcus. Her body belonged to him now, and the employees and clients of Del Corp. But she wouldn’t tell Ben any of that. It would hurt him to know that. He was her husband after all. They would be together till death do us part. So instead, she said what she knew to still be true, “I love you too.”
Ben hoped she’d change her mind, but soon heard his wife’s breathing change, and knew that she’d drifted off. He regretted not masturbating earlier then. He thought about getting up and going to the living room to rub one out, but he still had hope for tomorrow morning. So in the end, he slept.
When he woke up the next day, he rolled over to kiss his bride, but her spot was empty. He checked his phone and saw that it was almost 9am. He sat up and called out, “Riles!”
“Getting ready to log on for work honey,” she replied from the kitchen.
Ben swore and jumped out of bed. He was naked as usual first thing in the morning. He walked quickly to the kitchen and saw that his wife looked incredible. She always looked very beautiful to him, but here she was in a yellow buttoned top that he’d only seen her wear once before, plus a short black skirt that drew copious amounts of attention to her long legs. His eyes were still on the top though, because the top three buttons weren’t fastened, and her cleavage was fully on display.
“You’re…working from home today, right?” Ben asked, perplexed, but glad she wouldn’t be showing off her amazing rack to a bunch of drooling office mates.
“Yeah,” Riley replied excitedly. “Just getting my coffee and going to go into the guest bedroom. I finished converting it into an office early this morning. Nothing fancy, just a card table and your gamer chair. We can get an actual desk and my own office chair when I get my first paycheck.”
“Yeah, no prob babe,” Ben said hurriedly, even though he was a little miffed that he wouldn’t have his gamer chair today. “Can we please make time for a quickie before you-”
Riley was already fervently shaking her head. “I don’t want to be late. I’m to log on promptly at 9am.”
“Will you get a break?”
Riley thought about that. She wasn’t sure. Surely she’d be able to walk away for bathroom breaks and a lunch. “I should be able to, yes, but I’ll know more once I log on as to what that looks like. We can probably have lunch together.”
The way she smiled at him while talking made Ben’s heart melt. He felt like some of the inexplicable distance that had materialized last night was dissipating. “I’d like that, babe. Yeah. I’ll make us something nice.” He remembered their diminishing food supplies and then said, “Like ramen.”
She laughed, and it lit up the room. “My favorite.” She moved forward to kiss him, but at the last second, swerved and walked by him. She didn’t want Ben to get the wrong idea, because kissing could lead to sexual intimacy, and her body belonged to Del Corp and its employees and clients.
That act had felt cruel to Ben. He didn’t like whatever this was. Everything had seemed normal for a second, and then she acted like a stranger towards him. He followed her into her new office area. They still had two minutes before she needed to log on.
Riley was opening up her laptop and about to sit down when she realized he was behind her. “What are you doing?” she snapped. “You’re naked, and you’re in my workspace! Are you trying to get me fired!”
“Why would it matter if I’m naked?” Ben argued. “It’s not like they’re gonna see me and-”
“But they might,” Riley said frantically. “I’m having a video chat with my team lead first thing! If he sees your penis, I imagine that’d be it for me!” She waved him away with both hands.
Ben’s shoulders slumped, and he left the room.
“Close the door!” Riley called after he’d taken a few steps from the office. “I don’t want you overhearing anything confidential.”
“It’s not like I’m going to sell your company’s secrets to a foreign power or-” but he stopped, because she was glowering at him. He just nodded, and shut the door. It was going to be a long day. He walked back to the kitchen and began to make himself breakfast.
Riley was staring at the monitor, waiting for her marching orders, when she saw an alert come up that she was receiving a video chat request. She clicked on it, and saw Marcus’s face. He looked very happy to see her. She pushed her chest out so he could see in the camera that she’d done like she’d been told.
“Hey, Riley, is there anyone in the room right now with you?” Marcus asked as he studied her low cut top very closely.
“No, sir,” she said confidently.
“Good. Are you ready for your field test?”
“My what?” Riley asked curiously. She remembered a video call, but didn’t know what the term ‘field test’ meant.
“In a moment, I’m going to upload into your body and have a look around your home. I’m going to dig into as much of your personal life as possible to make sure there’s no external plans or people that might pose a threat to Del Corp. It’s all company policy.”
Marcus loved telling her all this, knowing that she’d be forced to accept it.
Riley furrowed her brow. She didn’t want Marcus to be in her home. To be…did he say in her body? But even as she tried to resist, the nanites did their job, smoothing her face, making her compliant to his will. And why should she be? She trusted Marcus completely. “Whatever you need,” she said. “Does that mean I won’t be doing data entry today?”
“You will actually. At least, that’s what you’ll remember doing. That’s what you’re going to do right now. Pull up the data entry program and begin moving the numbers around.”
Riley did as she was told. A spreadsheet with several numbers came up and began to flash for her to drag it from one place to another.
Marcus saw on his tablet that she was following his instructions to the letter. “Good. Now I want you to look at it. Remember it. All you did today was work on this data entry program.”
“All I did today was work on this data entry program,” she repeated.
“Excellent,” Marcus said. “Stay there. I’ll be joining you very soon.” He disconnected the chat, and pressed more buttons. A large pod opened in front of him. He was in the upload room. There were 64 pods in here, and more were being added every month. Several were already filled by the retired sex workers on staff, such as his number two Doris. A few were also used by the occasional client who was willing to pay through the nose to experience life in another body.
That’s what Marcus would be doing for the next several hours. He’d be scouring Riley’s life. Making sure she posed no threat. He certainly hoped she didn’t. He was delighted to have her on his team. He’d enjoy being in her body. And he’d be getting paid very well to do it.
He pressed a button on his phone, and the pod shut, and began to hum.
70 miles away in her home, Riley’s bracelet pinged. Her eyes rolled up into her head, and heard herself saying, “Uploading. Uploading. Uploading. Upload complete.”
“Finally,” she said as she looked down at herself with a hungry smile. “Look at you, all dressed up for the job. Good girl.” Her hands came up and were a hair away from her chest when she stopped and looked at the monitor. Her fingers minimized the screen so she could see herself in the laptop’s camera. “That’s better,” she said.
She brought two eager hands to her chest. Marcus was reminded how good they felt when Avery had made him grope her yesterday. Now he had unfettered access to them. He was supposed to do a perimeter check, but he’d said she lived alone. He would explore her a bit first. Let himself feel the pleasures of her body. Then and only then would he begin a deep dive into her life.
Riley’s hands began furiously unbuttoning the few buttons she’d fastened on her top. There was still one to go at the bottom but she yanked it forcefully off, sending the last button plinking off the wall. The top landed on the floor. Her hands went behind her back, and for several moments, Marcus struggled to unclasp the bra. The nanites did not give him access to her muscle memory, and he had only uploaded a couple of times before as a part of his own training. Since he’d be uploading a lot more in the future though, he'd better learn how to remove a bra from this perspective more proficiently.
At last he was rewarded with the clasp releasing, and he felt gravity pull at the weight on Riley’s chest. The bra joined the blouse on the floor and two double D’s bounced in the monitor. Riley’s body was heating up exponentially, especially between her legs. Marcus wanted to touch there as quickly as he could, so he stood up from the chair and pulled the skirt down. He saw pink cotton panties underneath. Riley took a deep breath, then pulled those down as well. Neatly trimmed blonde pubic hair covered her slit. Marcus made her watch the monitor as her right hand went straight there. The middle finger felt the soft coarseness of the hair, and then her lower lips parted and there was only silky wet bliss.
“Fuck!” Riley called out louder than Marcus meant to. “You’re such a naughty girl, aren’t you? Masturbating on company time. Well, you’re gonna be doing a lot more than that soon.”
After being kicked out of her office by his wife, Ben had gone to put on a plain white shirt and gray sweatpants. He’d eaten breakfast and eventually ended up moping in their living room. It was a small two bedroom house. The office was adjacent to the living room. When Riley yelled ‘Fuck!’ Ben heard it. It took a lot to make his wife swear, so he assumed something was very wrong. He leapt up to investigate. He didn’t care about confidentiality in that moment, and pushed the door open. His jaw dropped. Her back was to him, but he had no problem seeing his wife on the monitor.
For a split second, he thought his wife was getting off to internet porn. But it wasn’t porn. It was her. She was recording herself on the laptop with her legs spread, her finger frantically rubbing her pussy while her other hand wildly fondled her boobs.
He’d never seen her behave in such a way. Was she doing this for him? So he’d have something to wank to while she was working? To him, it was the hottest she’d ever looked, and blurted out, “You’re so fucking sexy babe. Let me watch.”
Riley’s eyes had been closed as she slipped a finger deep inside herself. But they flew open as she heard the sound of a man behind her. She whirled around in the spinning chair, a look of annoyed confusion on her face. She made no attempt to cover herself, or even pause masturbating. All she said was, “Who the hell are you?”
To be continued…
Several people are invited to a party and given a chance to possess one another via stickers imbued with a possession spell. Chaos ensues.
“Why are we here again?” Ryan asked as they approached the entryway of the large house.
Bailey rolled her blue eyes. “Because we’re freshman in college. We’re here to make friends, experience new things, and party. We were lucky to get this invite, so don’t be a wet blanket or next time I won’t bring you along.”
Ryan’s whole tall, lanky frame slouched in defiance. Parties, any kind of party, was not his scene. He liked his socializing done one or two people at a time. The only person who could have talked him into coming was Bailey. But he still wanted it known by his words and posture that he was going reluctantly. “I didn’t get the invite. I’m just your plus one, and I said I’d rather stay in my dorm room.”
“And I ignored what you said and chose to drag you here anyway,” the bubbly blonde chided as she playfully slapped his arm. “It’ll be good for you. You’re always talking about how terrible you are with women. I’ll help you get the confidence boost you need to get laid!”
Ryan stopped walking as his brain didn’t have enough processing power to understand that last sentence and walk at the same time. For the briefest of moments, he thought that Bailey had offered to have sex with him at the party. He would have been more than okay with that.
The day they had met at orientation had been the day his crush on her began. He had been so awkward when introducing himself to her during an icebreaker. Bailey, however, had accepted him just as he was, and then placed him firmly in the friend zone. But every once in a while, he misinterpreted something she said as a possibility for something more. He knew he was probably wrong though, because he always struggled to communicate with the opposite sex.
Still, Ryan was eternally grateful to have met her. Bailey had helped Ryan come out of his shell bit by bit over the last couple of months. They helped each other in their classes when they could. Most of all, Bailey helped Ryan overcome a strong bout of homesickness he felt at the end of the first month. She was a good friend, possibly the only real one he had made on campus. And he was pretty sure he was in love with her. He kept hoping she would make a move on him, but she never did, and he didn’t want to ruin everything by asking for something more.
But she had mentioned getting laid. Him laid to be specific. And his ears had perked up and wondered if she was coming onto him at last. But as his eyes met hers, and he watched her head tilt in confusion, he realized he had mostly likely misread the situation.
Bailey cut back in. “Yes, laid. I thought boys thought about sex all the time. I can be your wingman. Or wing woman as it were.”
“Wing woman, sure. It won't matter. I’m terrible at-”
“Talking to girls, I know!” Bailey finished for him as she rang the doorbell.
“Except for you,” Ryan pointed out.
Bailey smirked. “Because we’re such good friends!”
Ryan almost said something. He almost let it slip that he didn’t want to be her friend. He wanted to be her lover. But that would have been horribly cheesy and pathetic. And she would have laughed at him. And she’d tell him that she didn’t see him that way. And their friendship would effectively be over. So instead of saying anything, he turned to leave. But Bailey caught his shoulder.
“Hey, you can do this,” she said in all seriousness as she spun him back around. “I’m with you all the way.” She booped his nose and winked at him. “Until you go all the way that is.”
Ryan was about to point out that most likely meant she’d be with him forever, when the door swung wide open to reveal Topher Steward. Everyone knew Topher. He was the guy on campus that could get you things. The kind of things that you needed a fake id to get. Or the kinds of things that helped you ace a test without studying. Or the kinds of mind altering substances that police would absolutely arrest you for having in your possession. And he was always on the lookout for the next thing to sell to his fellow students.
“Oh good, you’re here, you’re here,” Topher said with open arms and a wide grin. As he pulled them inside a large foyer, he spoke loud enough for anyone in the house to hear. “I was worried we were going to have to start the party without you.”
Ryan had a brief second to take in the place as they were shuffled into the lavishly decorated interior. It seemed even bigger on the inside. There were stairs that led left and right to a second story. To his right, there seemed to be a study, and beyond that an entryway to what was probably a kitchen.
Topher was leading them to a large room to their left that had a pool table near the middle, shelves of books along one side of the wall, and a fully stocked bar in the corner. There were already thirty or forty people huddled in groups around the room, talking amongst themselves. Ryan thought he knew a few people from around campus. But there was one person he absolutely recognized, because she was probably the hottest girl in a thousand mile radius. Ryan only knew her name was Tiffany, along with the fact that she was a senior with dark hair, an hourglass figure that could stop traffic, and a gorgeous face.
This vision of loveliness stood watching as Topher ushered in what looked to be two naive freshmen, a guy and a girl, into the room. The guy had spotted her, and was now gawking at her tits as if they were celebrities that might give him an autograph. She was used to men staring at her, but they usually did it with a little more subtlety. She shot him a look and a gesture that said my eyes are up here, then made a motion to Topher to start whatever he had planned. She had other places to be. She wouldn’t be here if Topher hadn’t paid her, and he said he’d only need her services for a 90 second demonstration.
On top of that, he’d also paid for her to recruit several of her more attractive sorority sisters who had come as well. That hadn’t been hard. She ran their sorority, so with a snap of her fingers, they would go to whatever party she told them to. But she wasn’t being paid to be lusted after by a lame freshman. She tapped her foot and looked around again for anyone worthy of her company. It took more than a cursory glance, but she finally saw Frank, one of the few good athletes on campus. As usual, he had brought his girlfriend, Kim. That was a pity. She’d totally jump Frank’s bones if Kim didn’t have him on a two foot leash all the time.
Frank was wondering why they were all just standing around. Usually when he came to one of Topher’s parties, the party was raging by the time he walked through the door. So far this was a very quiet and subdued affair, definitely not his preferred scene. He liked his parties loud, because that way he couldn’t hear his girlfriend’s incessant complaining or trying to draw him into a fight. He would have already cut and run if Topher hadn’t told him that it’d be worth his while. So he tried to wait patiently, and hoped his girlfriend Kim would do the same. But by her posture and the expression of discontent on her face, she was going to do no such thing.
“Babe, look at who’s here,” she said derisively. “I’d talk with, maybe like, two or three of these people. And there’s no music, and nobody’s drinking! We’re leaving.”
He slid his hands around Kim’s tight waist and pulled her towards him to hopefully calm her foul modd. She felt so soft against him, and she smelled terrific. “Babe, give Topher a chance. He said-”
Kim pushed his arms down and stepped out of his embrace. “I don’t care what Topher said!” she hissed louder than she knew Frank would like. “I said we’re leaving.”
Frank sighed. It was always her way or the highway, and had been for the last year they’d been dating. It hadn’t been like that in the beginning. She had been a little feisty, and a lot bossy, but she had always accepted his hands on her body. Now most times he tried to be affectionate, especially in public, she’d push him away. With a year and a half to go till graduation, it seemed she was just keeping him around for his status as a jock. That might be fair, because sometimes he wondered if he was keeping her around for her body. The problem was, he got to touch it less and less these days.
As Frank and Kim stepped out to make their exit, Topher called out, "If you go now, you won't get to see what these do."
Every eye locked onto a folded manilla envelope that Topher extracted from his back pocket. He reached inside and pulled out a two by two inch square of glossy white paper.
"Is that some new drug?" Frank asked.
Topher smiled and began to pass them out, one to each person. "Better. I'll explain what it does after everyone gets one. Don't break the seal on the adhesive to them before I tell you so we can all enjoy the ride together."
Everyone's curiosity peaked and the room began to chatter. One by one, they studied the innocuous looking white square that Topher placed in their palm. As people poked and prodded it and held it up to the light, it looked like just an ordinary sticker. How could it be better than recreational drugs?
Ryan was examining his when Bailey nudged him. "We haven't been here five minutes and someone is already checking you out."
"What?" Ryan asked as he doubtfully scanned the room. "Where?"
"Play it cool, Romeo," Bailey said from the side of her mouth. "3 o'clock."
"I asked where," Ryan began, but stopped talking as Bailey's foot came firmly down on his. He gave a quiet yelp, then followed where Bailey's finger pointed. A cute, chubby girl was staring at him from the opposite side of the room. Well, he didn’t notice that she was staring at first. He noticed her boobs first. They were huge. And when his eyes finally found her face, yes, she was staring at him. He recognized her from his Chemistry class. She gave him a little wave, then looked down at her chest, then arched it forward, as if giving Ryan permission to look all he wanted.
"Damn," Bailey whispered. "It might be easier to get you laid than I thought.”
He looked away from the girl as he remembered Bailey’s words earlier. His mood became sulky. “She’s not my type.”
“No giant boobs, check!” Bailey said.
Ryan noticed that someone else was staring in their direction. An overweight, nerdy looking guy was looking intently at Bailey. Ryan pointed him out to her. “It looks like it might be easy for you too!”
“Ugh, that’s Steven!” Bailey muttered. “No thank you!”
“You know him?”
“He keeps hitting on me in my introductory science class. And not just me, I’ve seen him hit on other girls in class as well. He’s real suave about it too,” she said sarcastically. “His signature move is to stare relentlessly like a creep. But he also likes to brush up against anyone of the female persuasion when getting to his seat in class. I’m pretty sure he would hump anything with a pulse, which he might not have if he ever brushes up against me the way I’ve seen him do other girls.”
“I think you should give him a chance.”
Ryan unsuccessfully dodged the hand to the back of his head.
As Topher handed out the last piece, the room grew quiet with anticipation. With a flourish, Topher held up the last square and said, “Thank you all for accepting the invite to my party. It will be unlike any of my other social gatherings, because of this.” He shook the small square in his hand.
“Is it a new drug?” someone asked excitedly.
“It is not,” Topher grinned wildly. As disappointed murmuring broke out in the room, Topher raised both his hands to quiet them down. “It’s something better! And all of you get to be the first to experience it. Tiffany,” he called as he motioned for her to come forward, “now is when I require your assistance.”
Tiffany did as he asked, but with some hesitancy. She liked making money, but hated surprises, or being made to look foolish, and this had the potential for both. But he had paid her five hundred dollars for 90 seconds, so she dutifully strutted over to him and struck a haughty pose with a fake smile. The clock was ticking as of now, and she began to count.
With Tiffany beside him, Topher continued. “What you have in your hand is a sticker that has been infused with a possession spell. Yes, I said spell, as in magic spell. And with it, you’ll be able to possess a person’s body for about 90 seconds.”
Tiffany did her best not to laugh out loud at him. Had he gone mad, or was he under the influence of some powerful pharmaceuticals? Either way, this would be over in 77 seconds.
Kim was already pulling on Frank’s arm, a sign that she wanted to go. His eyes met hers, and she said loudly, “You brought me here for this. This is a joke, you idiot. Topher’s messing with us. It’s just an excuse for us all to act crazy and pretend someone is possessing us. It’s stupid. We’re not kids.”
Before anyone had a chance to exit, Topher cooly said, “I know none of you will believe me so…” Topher peeled off the plastic tab from the sticker and pressed the adhesive gently to the small of Tiffany’s back. “...so I’ll show you.”
Everyone gasped as Topher’s body phased into Tiffany, who seemed completely unaware that anything was happening to her. Her body only twitched slightly, and then relaxed.
Tiffany began to speak as if nothing were out of the ordinary as she raised a hand and stroked her soft face. “As you can see, I’m not lying. I’m not making it up. The possession spell works. I am now in control of Tiffany’s body.” Her hand slid from her face, landed on her breast, and continued its descent down her voluptuous body. “Every single bit of it.”
It took almost half a minute for Topher to quiet everyone down again. When they did, he kept on explaining with Tiffany’s voice, but his salesmanship. “I can see a lot of you have questions, and I’ll give you the basics. But if you want more than that, you’ll just have to experience it for yourself. For starters, it is reusable as long as the sticker’s adhesive holds, which in testing is around ten to fifteen times. To use it, you must stick it to a person’s back. It doesn’t matter if it’s their skin or their clothes, just has to be near the center of their back for the spell to kick in. And that’s it. You don’t have to say or chant anything, because the spell has been preprogrammed into the sticker. And-”
Tiffany’s body jerked again, and Topher’s body rematerialized right behind her. Tiffany was at a count of 24 seconds. He’d better hurry up with whatever he was trying to sell.
Topher picked back up his pitch in his body. “Well, once the time is up, you pop back out with the person you possessed none the wiser, thinking that nothing has happened at all. And then you can go again by pressing the sticker on their back if you want. Or you can pick someone else. Or you can let someone possess you, or-”
Tiffany stopped counting. Why was Topher so obsessed with this silly bit of fiction. She spun to look at him and asked, “What are you talking about? No one’s going to believe any of this.” But she saw that everyone’s eyes were on her as if she had done a spectacular magic trick.
“You see?” Topher said jubilantly. “She has no idea she was possessed! When you stick someone, it happens instantly, and when you come out, no time for them has passed. The only way they might have a clue that anything funny happened, is if you’ve changed their surroundings, like say moved them to a different room, or if you’ve been naughty and maybe taken off a few articles of their clothing.” He mimed taking his shirt off.
“How is this better than drugs?” a dimwitted sophomore asked.
Topher addressed the question while he deftly reached behind Tiffany’s back and retrieved the sticker. “Haven’t you ever wondered what it would be like to be in someone else’s skin? To feel taller, or stronger, or…” he placed the sticker onto Tiffany’s back again, and Topher vanished into her.
Tiffany’s hands went just under her breasts, and she pushed them up and locked eyes with several guys in the room. “...or to know what it’s like to touch the best boobs on campus?” As Topher glanced around, he saw that he had just convinced every man to stick around. “But ladies, you could know what it’s like to have an extra appendage between your legs. To feel what it’s like to run a hand up and down your own dick for a change. Or, you could walk a mile in another woman’s shoes and see the world through their eyes. The possibilities are endless, right up til the time runs out.”
Topher could tell that not everyone was on board, but many were already imagining what they could do, or who they wanted to try it out on first. He hurried his pitch along. “But maybe some of you are worried that if you were possessed, someone would have access to all the secrets inside your head. Well rest easy. No one will be able to access your mind, your memories, your passwords and pin numbers. The only thing a person will know about you is what they already knew when they possessed you.”
Topher knew he’d convinced even more of them now by more eyes darting around, looking for a person to stick. He gave the naysayers their only out. “Anyone who wants to go should leave right now. You can even take your stickers with you, but know this! They won’t work outside of this house. The magic is tied to this place. The sticker would become just an ordinary sticker. And if you try to leave in the body of another person, you’d get ejected from them immediately.”
Tiffany’s eyes had a few more seconds to gauge people’s responses, until Topher reappeared behind her. She didn’t understand why Topher had stopped talking mid sentence. Her sorority sisters were looking at her with a mix of nervousness, excitement, and possibly fear. She didn’t think a full 90 seconds had passed, but she was going to cut whatever this was short. “Look, Topher, if you don’t need me anymore, my sisters and I are going to leave.”
“Just 10 more seconds, Tiffany,” Topher said patiently. “Yes, anyone who wants to, should go now.” Six people began to shuffle forward to leave. Before they could get far, Topher added one more incentive. “But for anyone who wants to stay, there is an open bar.”
Only three people actually left, one of which was the frightened looking sorority sister. Tiffany thought that was weird. Nobody left when there was an open bar. Why hadn’t Topher led with that instead of talking about some possession sticker nonsense.
One person that was trying to leave was Kim. She was gritting her teeth and glaring furiously at her boyfriend. “Let’s go!” she commanded.
But Frank dug in his heels and said firmly. “I want to stay! If you want to go, go!”
His girlfriend’s eyes narrowed and both her hands went to her hips. “Why? So some skank can possess you and grab your dick? Or maybe they possess me and try and make out with you? Is that something you want? For some hussy or geek to take me over and make out with you?”
“Uh…” Was all the reply Frank could muster. Her words had sounded so exciting, so forbidden and alluring.
“Are you kidding me right now?” was all that Kim got out, before a girl behind her put a sticker on Kim’s back
Frank watched with wide eyes as it happened. He saw his girlfriend gasp, then squeal! She began to flex and wiggle her fingers. After that, she brought her hands to her boobs and started squeezing them shamelessly. “Not as large as mine,” Kim’s voice said appreciatively. “But definitely perkier.” Kim looked up into Frank’s eyes and smiled. “Sorry. It seemed like your girlfriend was about to rip you a new one. I hope you don’t mind.”
Not only did Frank not mind, but he was hornier than he had ever been. “Would you mind if I made out with my girlfriend right now? Probably won’t get a chance to later.”
The person in Kim appeared to consider it for a second, then shrugged her shoulders and giggled. “Sury, why not. It’s not my body.”
Their lips met and their tongues intertwined, but Frank wouldn’t get to experience all of it, because a sticker got placed on his back as well.
All around them, people were placing their stickers, and several people disappeared into someone else.
“Let the possession party commence!” Topher shouted. He bobbed and weaved his way quickly to the bar and began pouring drinks. “If any of you are feeling frisky, all the bedrooms are available to you!” He pressed a button on his phone and dance music flooded the room.
The most attractive people were the first to get possessed. Bailey would have fallen into that category, but when two people tried, Ryan saw them coming and intervened, pulling her out of the way. They escaped temporarily to a corner and watched as people started behaving strangely. Clothes began coming off and inhibitions were shed all around them. All combinations of people started making out passionately, guys and girls, guys and guys, and girls and girls, kissing, touching, groping. Two of the sorority girls had taken off their tops and bras and were just mashing their boobs together and giggling profusely.
“So, we’re not staying and being a part of this insanity, are we?” Ryan asked Bailey as they surveyed the debauchery around them. He wanted to leave. But he was also keenly aware that Bailey was almost cheek to cheek with him, and he didn’t mind that at all. He could smell her perfume, or lotion…whatever girls wear that made them smell good. He’d stay in this corner with just her for hours if she’d let him.
“How about I let you know in 90 seconds,” Bailey grinned as she snaked a hand behind Ryan’s back and placed her sticker.
To Ryan, it was as if no time had passed at all. Bailey’s face was grinning mischievously at him one second, and then the next, his face was meshed together with a girl’s. He could feel her in his mouth. It was hot and wet and warm. His dick was throbbing. He pulled back, and saw Bailey appear next to him out of the corner of his eye. He recognized the girl in front of him though, the one who had just been exploring his mouth with her tongue. It was the chubby girl that had been staring at him earlier.
She looked at him now with disappointment and hunger. “Why’d you stop?” Then she spotted Bailey.. “Oh, were you the one possessing him?”
“I don’t…” Ryan was at a loss. He looked at Bailey curiously, and she just gave him a thumbs up.
The girl smirked at Bailey and extended a hand towards her. “You’re a really good kisser. My name’s Tabitha.”
She took it and replied, “I’m Bailey, and this guy that can’t form complete sentences is my friend Ryan.”
“Just friends?” Tabitha asked firmly.
“Oh yeah, just friends,” Bailey confirmed, which felt like a knife through Ryan’s heart.
Tabitha looked at Ryan slyly. “I wonder if he’d kiss differently now?”
“Only one way to find out,” Bailey teased.
Tabitha wasted no time in pulling Ryan’s face back to hers. Again, Ryan felt her hot tongue as it probed his mouth. She was the one that ended the kiss this time. “Not as good, but he can learn.”
Ryan glanced at Bailey, and saw that she was happy for him. He couldn’t help but resent her pushing this Tabitha person into his path. Yes, he had gotten all worked up. But he was not happy. He didn’t want Tabitha. He wanted Bailey. He should just tell her that, out loud, instead of it broadcasting on loop in his mind. But he knew, deep down, he was too much of a coward. He tried to smile back at his friend, but his mouth crinkled and looked like had bitten into something sour.
Bailey thought he was joking, and made a face back at him. “Enjoy yourself, kids. I’m going to go get a drink.”
As she walked towards the bar, Tabitha hinted at Ryan, “I wouldn’t say no to a drink.”
Ryan had found his ability to brood wildly impared by a toplessTiffany who was making out with one of her sorority sisters.
Tabitha’s temper flared, but she gave Ryan another chance and loudly repeated, “Will you get me a drink?”
The question got into Ryan’s ears and bounced around as he saw the two gorgeous women kiss and fondle each other. He somehow managed to say, “I’m not thirsty.”
Tabitha looked angrily in Tiffany’s direction, and walked away from Ryan, who had just seemed to notice how many more topless women there were in the room.
Close by, Frank noticed his kiss with Kim had ended abruptly. One second he was kissing her luscious lips, and the next she had disappeared. Before he could even look around for her, time seemed to skip again, and he found himself in a room making out with a girl he had seen earlier, but didn’t know. Her hands were underneath his shirt, feeling the abs he worked so hard to keep. He heard the door shut behind him as whoever had possessed him left for a different target.
The woman in front of him was now trying to remove his shirt entirely. As he began to push her away, his girlfriend burst through the door at the worst possible time.
Kim charged like a bull and yelled, “Is this why you wanted to stay you two timing bastard!”
The girl on the bed with Frank yelped, rolled away, and ran out the door.
“Baby, this isn’t what it looks like!” Frank began.
“It looked like you were hooking up with that girl that just ran out of here!” Kim said as she took a swipe at Frank.
Frank dodged, and then continued to do so as Kim kept yelling and swinging away at him. Unbeknownst to her, a rotund looking guy had entered the room, and was sneaking up behind her. Frank saw. He saw it clearly. He could have said something, could have warned her, or shouted at the guy to stop, but he didn’t. A part of him, a very specific part actually, wanted his girlfriend to be possessed. He watched as a sticker was placed on her back, and the guy took control of his girlfriend’s hot body.
Instantly, Kim began to take her top and hurriedly struggled with her bra strap. As she did this, she said, “Ooh, I like this one. She’s real feisty. You’re welcome by the way, man. I think she had it in for you..”
The bra fell away and her perky breasts sprang into view. It wasn’t Frank’s first time seeing them, but it was different somehow. It wasn’t his girlfriend behind those eyes. It was someone else, controlling her, moving her, exposing her. For reasons he could not explain, it was the hottest thing he had ever experienced.
“Hey,” Frank said in almost a whisper. “That’s my girlfriend.”
The person inside Kim took this as a challenge, and Kim retorted, “Well sorry pal, but she’s mine for like, another 80 seconds or so.”
Frank looked her body up and down, then asked, “Could you take off her skirt too?”
Kim raised one eyebrow and jeered, “You want me to take off her panties while I’m at it?”
“Yes,” Frank said quietly. He was suddenly embarrassed as he realized he was asking this of another guy. A guy who would slide her underwear down her legs. Who would be able to see his girlfriend without a stitch on her.
Kim began to slowly nod like Frank’s request were totally sensible. “Alright. But first, introductions. The guy extended Kim’s hand while the other cupped a boob. “The name’s Steven.”
“Oh, uh, Frank.” He shook the offered hand. This part was weird, but it was worth it as he watched Kim’s eyes lock onto his, and she pulled down her skirt, then her panties.
“So, now what?” Kim’s voice asked casually. “You’re just going to stare at me? I mean, if that’s what gets you going.”
Frank thought it was so weird hearing Kim sound so easy going and accommodating. She’d been nothing but angry, bossy, and belligerent to him for months. Now she was talking to him without any of those tones or irritated expressions she typically used. And now that he wasn’t shaking her hand, she was groping both of her boobs.
“Can you like, make her strike sexy poses?” Frank stammered. Why was he so nervous?
Kim stopped mid squeeze. “I thought you said she was your girlfriend? Why can’t you just ask her to do that for you?”
“She is, I just, um, we’ve been going through a rough patch recently and…”
Kim put a hand on his shoulder. “Trouble in paradise. I get it. Say no more. I can pose her real provocative like, and you could take pictures. I wouldn’t mind that, especially if you’re willing to send them my way.” Kim fell back onto the bed and asked with feigned innocence, “Now how do you want me?”
Frank’s mouth went dry as he pulled out his phone to take pics.
Downstairs, Ryan was still gawking at the boobs all around him, but eventually remembered that Bailey was somewhere on the premises. Hadn’t she said the bar? He went to find her to see if she was ready to leave. But should he try possessing someone first? That was the whole point of this, wasn’t it? He could possess Bailey, but…just because she had possessed him, didn’t mean she’d be cool with him possessing her. They should just leave. But first he had to find Bailey She was being a terrible wing woman.
He felt someone touch his arm and he whirled around. He swallowed hard, as a genuine goddess began speaking to him.
“So, can you like, protect me from all the creeps here?” Tiffany asked like a helpless maiden. “Everyone keeps possessing my friends and I. Maybe if I’m with you, they’ll leave me alone.”
“Oh, uh, I guess that’s okay.” Ryan managed meekly.
She sidled up next to him and began running her hand up and down his arm. “My hero. I’m glad you’re here to look after me.”
Ryan tried to respond, but he had registered that her breast was pressing into his arm. It was so big and soft. He had never imagined being this close to Tiffany’s boobs. His head had turned of its own accord and his eyes had zeroed in on her cleavage. He had a front row seat to the twins. He could die happy. Wait, she was saying something. He hadn’t been paying attention! “I’m sorry, what?”
Tiffany giggled. “I said you seemed hypnotized by my boobs.”
Ryan went red. He couldn’t look at Tiffany. In a panic, he began frantically looking around for Bailey to help him. “Oh. I’m sorry! They were right there and, they’re so perfect, and…”
Her eyes narrowed. “Who are you looking for if perfect boobs are right in front of you?”
“My friend, Bailey,” Ryan answered honestly, even as his airway seemed to be closing up as a defense mechanism not to say anything stupid until his friend could come and bail him out.
Tiffany pulled back and put her hands on her hips. “Ryan. A very attractive woman that you couldn’t stop ogling earlier is now right in front of you, and you’re looking for me! Get your head in the game!”
Ryan’s head snapped back to Tiffany. “What?”
And right about then he watched as Bailey was ejected from Tiffany’s body.
“Are you kidding me?” Ryan asked her. While Tiffany looked at the familiar freshman in front of her, Bailey moved quickly to retrieve the sticker.
“What is happening?” Tiffany blurted angrily. “I seem to keep blacking out and waking up with different people in front of me.” She looked down at her outfit. “At least my tits aren’t out this time!”
Bailey put the sticker back onto Tiffany’s killer bod and was back in the driver’s seat a moment later.
“Why are you inside her?” Ryan asked.
“Oh, so you can talk now that you know it’s me in here?” Tiffany/Bailey challenged.
“Well, yeah, I mean…”
“I’m trying to build your confidence Ryan. Tiffany is just a girl. Sure, she’s hot and all, but you can carry on a conversation with her the same as me if you just…Ryan…” She saw that she had lost him again to the depths of her temporary cleavage. “Oh for the love of…here! Get it out of your system.”
She grabbed the back of his head and plunged him face forward into her tits. She laughed as he struggled briefly, but then he began to slide his face around the big, bouncy orbs. Bailey noted that it felt good, maybe better than hers felt. But it had been awhile since someone’s face had been this close to her chest.
Ryan was in heaven, but with a limited supply of oxygen. He didn’t mind though. His face was between Tiffany’s boobs, with Bailey in charge. He’d still prefer Bailey’s body, but he could make do. He lifted an arm and pulled her top and bra down, just enough for a nipple to pop out.
“Hey, I’m not sure you should…” Tiffany’s voice protested, but stopped as Bailey felt Ryan’s tongue snake out and lick her borrowed tit. Damn! It was so sensitive. She was going to have to rub one out when this was all over. Or maybe she could still find a guy at this party to screw. As Ryan began to suck on the nipple, she reveled in the pleasure for several seconds, then pushed him back. “Okay, okay. I think your confidence has been built. Told you I’d be a great wing woman.”
“Can I…could you let me kiss her?” Ryan begged. “I uh, probably need a lot of practice in that area.”
Tiffany’s mouth grimaced slightly. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“You made me kiss a girl with my own mouth earlier!” Ryan countered. “And you just let me lick Tiffany’s tits!”
“That’s a very good point,” Tiffany laughed. “Well, I guess it’s okay.”
She puckered and leaned forward. Ryan felt his heart surge, and his lips met hers, and it was an amazing two seconds, and then he felt the slap.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing!” Tiffany shrieked, and hurried off. She only made it five steps before a guy hopped into her and began feeling her up.
Bailey was standing in front of Ryan, and mouthed the word sorry.
“It’s fine,” Ryan said with a hand on his stinging cheek.
“Let me make it up to you. Is there anyone else you’d like me to possess?” Bailey asked helpfully.
Ryan thought that was such a loaded question. There were several beautiful women in this house. Bailey would probably let him touch any of them he wanted. But the person he really wanted to touch was right in front of him. He should just say that.
He tried. “Maybe…what if you…”
And then Tabitha walked behind Bailey and put a sticker on her back.
Upstairs, Frank was wishing 90 seconds were longer as Steven popped out of Kim for the fifth time, and promptly fell off the bed with a loud thunk. As his girlfriend’s face flared with anger, Frank reached towards her and pulled the sticker off her back. “Here!” he said, and shoved it towards Steven.
“Are you helping this gross pervert possess me?” Kim snarled. She looked down at herself. “And you still haven’t made him put my clothes on?”
As she was shouting, Steven placed the sticker on her back. It didn’t stick, but fell off.
“Put it on her man!” Frank urged.
“I did!” Steven said anxiously. “It’s not sticking anymore. That means the spell won’t work.” He looked towards the closed bedroom door as he planned a quick exit. He did not want to be in the middle of the impending lover’s quarrel.
“Worst. Boyfriend. Ever!” Kim shouted. “What were you letting him do to me?” She seemed to notice the phone in his hand for the first time and gasped. “Were you taking naked pictures of me? While this jerk was touching my body? I’m going to kill both of you as soon as I get my fucking clothes back on!”
“That’s my cue!” Steven said as he lumbered towards the door. “Good luck man.”
Steven was pretty out of shape, and Frank beat him by a mile to the door. He grabbed Steven by the shoulder and began whispering in his ear. “I never used my sticker. You can have it if you keep possessing her and, uh…let me…”
“What are you whispering about?” Kim shouted as she pulled her pants back on.
“Let me touch her,” Frank blurted out.
“I told you I’m not doing anything gay!”
“It’s not gay when you’re in a chick!”
Kim’s shirt was on, and she walked towards them with malicious resolve in her eyes.
“Negotiate later!” Steven squawked. “Possess now!”
Frank gave him the sticker he had kept in his pocket. A second later, his girlfriend’s hands were pummeling him about the head. He blocked what he could and tried to catch her arms.
“We are officially over!” she screamed. “And you should know I’ve been cheating on you with Mark for months. He’s got a huge dick! Much bigger than-”
But she stopped as Steven had moved behind her, and taken control.
Frank felt the fight go out of Kim. His hands were still on her. He let them slide down her arms. Her face lifted to his, and she looked him straight in the eyes and asked very hesitantly, “What kind of touching? Does this count?”
Frank stared at her soft lips. He wanted to kiss her so bad right now. Why? Why was she so much more alluring to him this way, with someone else inside of her?
“Hey dummy,” she said snapping her fingers in front of his face. “Clock’s ticking. What do you want me to do so I can keep your sticker?”
“I want to kiss you!” Frank demanded.
Kim’s body twisted from his grasp. “Gross. No way! I’m not kissing a guy. I didn’t have a problem posing your girl, especially after you said you’d send me the pics. But I’m not kissing you, or letting you touch me, or…”
“What if I eat her out?”
Kim/Steven paused. “I, uh…I guess that’s… Would I have to see your face?”
Frank shook his head. “Not if it’s between your legs.”
Steven was tempted. He’d only played with the boobs of the other girls’ he’d possessed, except for Kim. He’d managed to clumsily rub her pussy. It had felt okay, but he was pretty sure he was doing it wrong. “Have you eaten your girlfriend’s pussy before?”
“It’s been awhile, but yeah.”
“Did she like it?”
“Oh yeah.”
Steven knew the seconds were slipping away. He didn’t want to waste a whole possession round on the negotiations. “I guess, but no other touching.”
“How about this,” Frank said as he fished from his pocket Kim’s unused sticker that he had taken from her early in the chaos. “I give you this fresh sticker as well, and you let me kiss my girlfriend before I lick her pussy and make you cum.”
Two stickers! That was enough for Steven. “Deal! But I’m going to close my eyes and pretend you’re a chick. And try not to use a lot of tongue-”
But Frank’s mouth covered up any more words from Kim’s mouth. And his hands became needy and started extracting her from her clothes as quickly as he could.
Downstairs, Tabitha in Bailey’s body was grilling Ryan about his preferences. “How about that one?” she said as she pointed to a brunette taking shots at the bar.
“No. I don’t want you to possess her either?”
“And you’re sure you don’t want me to possess that Tiffany girl again? The incredibly hot one that everyone has been fighting over.”
“I’m sure.”
“Then who do you want? Because it wasn’t me! I could tell when you kissed me. But I can be literally anyone in this house you’d like to fuck right now. So who’s it going to be?”
“I, uh, no one, okay. Why do you even want to do this with me?”
A mischievous expression danced across Bailey’s face. “Because my kink is deflowering virgins. And I’d be willing to bet that you have never had a first time, have you?”
Ryan sighed and nodded once.
“Well then, virgin boy, I find myself with a terrific opportunity, and a quandary. You don’t seem to want to have sex in my body, but that’s okay, because I can be anyone in this house that you want me to be.” Tabitha watched him carefully. He refused to make eye contact with her, and only stared at the floor. Occasionally his eyes would drift up and he’d look her in the boobs.
A thought occurred to her, and she ventured a guess. “It’s this girl, isn’t it? The one I’m in right now. Bailey, right? The one that’s just your friend. She’s the one you really want.” Ryan said nothing but his eyes snapped right to hers, and they were filled with panic. That look told Tabitha all she needed to know, and she placed a hand gently onto Ryan’s cheek. “Well, she’s right here for the taking,” Bailey’s voice purred. “What do you say, virgin boy?”
“It’s not the same,” Ryan argued. “You’re not really her. And the spell will wear off any-”
And at that moment, it did, and Tabitha felt herself pushed out of Bailey’s body. She grabbed the sticker off of Bailey’s back, and almost put it back on. But she looked at Ryan curiously first, and seemed to reconsider her course of action. She whirled about suddenly and headed towards the bar where Topher was pouring a steady stream of drinks.
Bailey pulled her hand from Ryan’s face and asked curiously, “Did someone just possess me? What did they make me do?”
“Nothing,” Ryan said truthfully. “We just talked.”
“What? Lame!” Her gaze shifted to something behind him. “Oh my gosh! Look at that!” she exclaimed, pointing to a guy in the corner of the room. His sizeable dick was out and he was twirling it around and around. “He’s doing the helicopter twirl thing! I’d heard guys could do that, but I’ve never seen it til now.”
A girl popped out behind the guy just then and she walked away with a blush and a smile. She didn’t get far, as someone hopped into her, and her tits were out shortly thereafter.
“You good for a bit?” Bailey asked. “I’ve got to go try that out.”
“The helicopter thing? Be my guest,” Ryan said, doing his best to smile at her.
Bailey started to walk away, but noticed the cracks in her friend’s smile. “You okay?”
Ryan did his best to swallow his feelings. “I’m fine. Go and see what it’s like to twirl a dick. Can we leave after that?”
She sighed. “I guess, since it doesn’t seem like you’re having a good time.” And then she ran to sticker the guy.
A few seconds later, Ryan heard a guy’s voice yell from across the room, “Ryan, look! Look at my dick! I’m doing it!”
Ryan waved and gave Bailey another thin lipped smile, then walked to the bar. He might as well get a drink before he left. He was glad to see that Tabitha had already come and gone.
Upstairs, Steven was in paradise. He was getting eaten out 90 seconds at a time, which wasn’t ideal, but still felt amazing. He was fully prepared to use the last of the stickers possessing Kim if Frank kept licking that pussy.
It was even okay that Frank’s hand occasionally reached up and groped Kim’s boobs. It felt good to have another hand squeezing and pinching them. Steven arched Kim’s back as another wave of pleasure washed over him, as Frank hit that very special spot. “Oh damn! This feels so great! A pussy is so much better than a dick!”
Frank came up for air to ask, “How about you let me fuck her?”
Kim’s hand pushed Frank’s head back down. “Stop talking crazy and keep licking me.”
Frank obeyed for another few seconds, then stuck two fingers inside her sopping wet hole.
Kim/Steven yelped. “Ooh that feels weird, but I like it!”
“My dick goes in even deeper than that,” Frank pointed out. He watched as Kim/Steven seemed to consider this.
But before he could make up his mind, Steven popped out of Kim from behind her, which meant Kim was on top of him. Steven pushed her off quickly, and Frank handed him a sticker, which Steven hurriedly slapped onto Kim’s back. It slid off. “This one’s out, Frank.”
“Okay, here’s the other one.”
Frank saw Kim’s expression during the exchange. She still looked mad, but also like she was trying to work out a puzzle. “What have you been doing to my pussy?” she moaned. “It’s on fire.”
“Uh, just attacking it with my tongue.”
“You haven’t done that in forever,” she growled. She noticed Steven and shot him a glare, but then continued talking to Frank. “My pussy feels so tingly babe. Why don’t you ask this guy to leave so you can get back to it.”
Frank had to wonder why she would suddenly be cool with this, especially after yelling consistently at him between possessions.
“Oh,” Kim cooed. “I know what you’re thinking. This doesn’t mean we’re getting back together. I’m just so turned on right now and…” Kim froze for a second as Steven lunged for her, then, “I’m back inside her again, Frank. You should really listen to what the lady said and get that pussy.”
Not one to look a gift horse in the pussy, Frank did just that, at least for next several seconds. And then he stopped to talk again, and Kim sounded like her old self as she cut him off before he could say a word, “Stop starting and stopping. You keep getting me right to the edge and then back off at the worst time.”
“How about I go ask Topher for more stickers?” Frank propositioned. “I’ll pay him whatever he wants. And you let me fuck Kim with you inside of her, and then you keep the stickers.”
Steven mulled it over quickly, which wasn’t easy as he was so horny and couldn’t really think straight, pun intended. “Go get the stickers, and maybe I’ll give you a handjob.”
Frank tore from the room, a man on a mission.
Ryan was on his second drink at the bar when Frank bumped into him. “Hey man, watch…” Ryan stopped himself from saying anything else when he saw Frank’s additional height and muscles.
“Sorry bro,” Frank said with a brief glance at Ryan. “Hey Topher!”
“Having a good time?” Topher asked with a wink.
Frank glanced at Ryan and a woman at the bar. “I need to have a private conversation real quick with my friend here.”
“Oh, so we’re friends now,” Topher smiled. “I thought I was just your dealer.” He waved everyone else away.
Ryan was slow to leave, and heard Frank say, “No man, we’re best friends. Listen, you got any more stickers? I’m willing to pay.”
Topher nodded like he had expected this. “You’re not the first person to ask. You know the drill. Only the first taste was free.”
“How much?”
“Two hundred bucks.”
Ryan almost spit out his drink as he began to walk away. Two hundred bucks for 90 seconds? Well, 90 seconds times ten. That still seemed like a huge rip off.
He heard Frank read his mind. “That’s way too much money!”
“Well like I said, you only got a taste. What I’m selling will have more of a kick.”
Ryan was out of ear shot after that. He didn’t have money like that to blow anyway. He looked around for Bailey. He really wanted to leave now. He checked where helicopter guy had been. He was still there, but he wasn’t twirling his dick anymore. He was stroking it though, and a few other girls were watching him do it with wide, hungry eyes.
Ryan observed long enough to see a different girl hop out of him. Then another girl, one that had been eagerly waiting, possessed him a second later. Ryan shook his head. That well hung guy had a line of girls waiting to possess him like he was some kind of ride. But where was Bailey? He was beginning to get worried when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned and breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of his friend’s pretty face.
“Sorry,” Bailey said quickly when she saw his concern fade. “Didn’t mean to worry you. Just had to use the bathroom.”
“It’s okay. You ready to go?”
“Well, what if-”
A person slapped her hard on the back, interrupting her. A guy had just put a sticker on her back. It stuck to her, but the guy didn’t disappear into her. He pulled it off and cursed, then said, “Oh man. I think I’m out!”
As he turned and walked away, he got possessed a second later by a girl who ran up behind and stuck him. His body quickly walked over to where Tiffany was making out with another guy, and began grinding his dick against her hip.
“If people are running out, that means the party will be winding down soon, I guess,” Ryan noted. “Sorry you didn’t get laid, Bailey. At least you got to swing a dick around. How did that feel?”
“What?” Bailey asked, then added quickly. “Oh, uh, good I guess. Hey, come with me.”
She grabbed his hand and pulled him into the foyer, but instead of going towards the door, she led him up the flight of stairs.
“Where are we going?” Ryan asked.
“Just somewhere with a bit of privacy,” was all she said.
The first two rooms they tried were occupied. One contained a guy and a girl going at it like it was their job. The second one had the makings of a mini orgy. Ryan had to pull Bailey away from that one because she couldn’t stop staring.
When they got into the third room, Bailey locked the door behind them, then looked intently at Ryan.
“What?” Ryan wondered aloud. “Do I got something on my face? Why’d you bring us up here?”
“Is there something you want to say to me?” Bailey asked. She walked towards him slowly with a look of concern.
“What?” Ryan asked apprehensively. Internally, his mind was racing, wondering if she knew about his feelings for her. If she asked him directly, he’d deny, deny, deny.
“Is the reason you didn’t pursue any of the other girls here…” she got shy all of a sudden. “Is it because maybe…you like me?”
“Yes!” Ryan practically shouted. So much for denial. “I mean…I know we’re friends. And I don’t want to ruin that. Our friendship has been the best thing that happened to me since I got here and-”
Bailey raced towards him and kissed him. Her momentum pushed him back, and he fell into a sitting position on the bed. Bailey crawled onto his lap, and peppered his lips and face with her mouth.
“Oh my gosh!” he gasped. “Is this really happening? Is this real?”
In a quick movement, she yanked her shirt off and watched as his eyes locked onto her bra. “What do you think?” She seemed to take a moment to admire her cleavage before taking one of his hands and placing it over her bra. She helped him squeeze her. “Do these feel real, Ryan?”
Ryan was so happy, and so turned on, but there was this thought, a stupid thought, one that buzzed about and dared to try and interrupt his happiness. “Uh, is it really you in there, Bailey?”
With mild shock, she asked, “What? You think someone’s possessing me right now and that’s why I’m coming on to you?”
“Well, yes. I mean, this was a possession party after all.”
Bailey nodded thoughtfully. “Okay, you’re right. But it has been longer than 90 seconds since I started talking to you downstairs, hasn’t it?”
“I think so.”
“Well if you’re not sure, why don’t you count down from 90. You can watch me closely while I remove this bra.” With a soft click, she unfastened the clasp, and let the bra slowly fall away from her boobs. Ryan was watching very closely indeed as she added. “If you see anyone pop out of me, you’ll know I was possessed. But if not, you can decide what you’d like to do with me next.”
In a room close by, Kim became aware for what seemed like the twentieth time that she was sitting on a bed, still completely naked. That wasn’t new to her. Nor was the fact that her fingers were on her pussy or a hand was squeezing her boobs. That had been how she had discovered herself a few times now. Also not new, was how her body felt. It wanted sex, it wanted to be penetrated, it wanted to climax! She hadn’t been this worked up in a while But none of that mattered because she knew what would happen if she didn’t move quickly. The pervert behind her would put the sticker onto her back and take over her body. And then she’d find herself in a slightly different position with a finger on her clit and a hand on her boob in another 90 seconds.
All of this flashed across her mind in the span of a few moments, which normally would have been too long, but behind her, Steven had fumbled the sticker. He picked it up off the bed and tried to place it again, but Kim had already sprung to her feet, whirled around, and faced him.
The door was just past him. She could do this. She’d have to run into the rest of the house naked. And would have to dodge anyone else with a sticker. But she’d just have to make it out of the house. That’s what Topher had said. The magic only worked inside the house. And then she’d get even with Frank, and Topher too. But first she’d flatten this overweight geek who was standing in her way. She faked like she was about to dart left, then faked again to the right. The guy’s response time was slow. She could get by this guy with no problem.
“I uh, I can’t let you leave before Frank gets back,” Steven stammered.
“Yeah, and why’s that?” Kim shot back.
“Because he wants to, uh…” Steven couldn’t finish and went red.
Kim spit out the rest in a fury. “He wants to fuck me! While you’re in my body! Is that it?”
“No, I wouldn’t let…I’m not gay!”
Kim laughed in spite of herself. “Oh, I’m sorry! I get confused sometimes. You’re not gay. You just want my boyfriend’s dick inside of you, while you’re in me. Now it all makes sense.”
“It’s not the same!” Steven argued, trying to stall for time. “He just really knows how to get you off! But he’ll only do it for your body. That’s why he’s coming back. He can’t get enough of that,” he said as he motioned to her.
Kim wasn’t sure how to feel about that. She believed their relationship had been nearing its end, but…he still wanted her. She had walked all over him for months, and he still only had eyes for her. He could be banging any other girl while she had been possessed, but he wanted her body. But then she gave it more thought. He wanted her body, but not her mind, otherwise Frank wouldn’t need this pathetic excuse of a man to possess her. And Frank had been helping him do it!
“Well, he’s going to have to learn to live without me!” Kim declared, and then made her move. She had been right. The guy’s weight did make him slower. She was past him in a flash and her hand was on the door before he was fully off the bed. She yanked it open, and ran right into Frank.
“Steven, I thought I told you to stay…” Frank trailed off as he saw a sheepish Steven with one foot still on the bed. “Oh, I see.”
Kim whirled around so her back wasn’t exposed to Steven, so he couldn’t use the sticker on her. Her bare butt backed into Steven, and she felt his dick push against her. She understood what it was to be between a rock and a hard place.
With her eyes on Steven, she pleaded with Frank, “Babe, you don’t need him. If you want to fuck me, I’ll let you. I didn’t know you still loved me and wanted me this much. If you make this creep go away, we can try again.”
Frank put his beefy hands on her shoulders and spun her around. She was scared for a second, until she heard Frank’s booming voice say, “Drop the sticker, Steven.”
“But…” Steven protested as he shambled forward.
Kim smirked. She couldn’t believe Frank was buying her “try again” speech. She looked up at him and said, “My hero.” Then gave him a peck on the cheek.
She was so confident that her deception was working, that she didn’t notice Frank’s hand reach into his back pocket and pull out a blue sticker, and extend it towards Steven. Steven wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do, but then he made eye contact with Frank, who winked at him. Steven closed the gap quickly, grabbed the sticker from Frank’s hand, and began to remove the plastic tab.
Kim realized that something was going on, but when she tried to turn around and see, Frank’s hands clamped onto her shoulders, pinning her to the spot. “What’s going on, Frank?” she asked sharply.
Frank gave her a knowing smile. “Everything with you has been hard lately, and you just suddenly have a change of heart about us? I’m sure that’s not the only time you’ve been fake with me.”
She began to squirm in his grip as she shouted in his face, “You’re right about that you pathetic waste of space! I will make you regret this! First chance I get I’m going to cut off your-”
And then the fight left her. She stopped squirming, and her face broke out into a grin. “I’m back in.”
Frank couldn’t help himself. He kissed her.
Steven felt a tongue enter Kim’s smaller mouth. Her feminine body responded automatically to the sensation of Frank’s body so close to hers. Steven’s mind rejected it a moment later, and he pushed Frank off and began spitting. “No, ew! Gross, man! Why’d you do that?”
Frank ushered them both in so he could lock the door. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help myself. This is such a huge turn on for me.”
“I’m happy you’ve found your kink, but I am not comfortable kissing you.”
“But it’s okay if I eat her out?”
“Obviously,” Kim/Steven said as she fell backwards onto the bed and spread her legs wide.
“And you’ll let me feel her tits?”
“Yeah, yeah, all that feels good. Now hurry up so we don’t waste this sticker.”
Frank opened his mouth to say something, then thought better of it and lowered his mouth to Kim’s pussy. It wasn’t long before Kim’s moans filled the room. Frank started groping her tits with one hand, then both. She grabbed his hands and helped him squeeze harder. She had always liked it a little rough.
Steven found it hard to think about anything else but the waves of pleasure that kept rippling through Kim’s body. If he had been aware of the passage of time, he might have realized that more than 90 seconds had come and gone, a few times actually. He felt a finger go inside of Kim’s pussy again, then two, all while Frank’s tongue did its thing. Steven felt Kim’s pelvis begin to instinctively writhe and buck against Frank’s face, and a tsunami of ecstasy washed over him from head to toe. It was better than any orgasm Steven had ever felt in a male body, and lasted much longer as well.
Frank stopped his tongue lashing and withdrew his fingers. He looked at Kim, who lay sweaty and spent before him. His dick was throbbing. It needed release. Her legs had closed around Frank’s head as she came, but he steadily began to spread them wide again.
A thought finally occurred to Steven. “Hey, how long’s it been? Shouldn’t I have been kicked out of her by now?”
“If it had been the normal sticker, yeah. But Topher gave me one that lasts a bit longer.”
Kim’s face became worried. “How much longer?”
“Twenty four hours,” Frank said, and placed a finger directly onto Kim’s clit.
Kim moaned and her body squirmed. “But, that’s too long,” Kim/Steven whined. “I don’t want to be a girl for a whole day.”
“I’ll try to help it pass quickly for you,” Frank smiled as he slipped a finger back inside. “Or I could stop right now and we could go our separate ways.”
“No!” she pleaded. “Keep doing that! I’m still so horny! I could totally go again.”
That was the other kick Topher had promised. Not only would this version of the spell last longer, but it included an aphrodisiac spell. The possessed person’s body would have a higher libido the whole time. Still, Frank acted surprised by Steven’s words, even as he continued to tease Kim’s clit. “Oh? Well, I wish I could help you, but…” Frank stopped touching Kim entirely, leaving a very frustrated Steven.
Steven wasn’t dumb. He knew where this was heading. Kim’s body didn’t seem to care though. Steven made himself one final compromise. “I’ll shut my eyes, okay? But no kissing. And you can just…do what you need to do, but keep getting me off.”
“That’s my Kimmy,” Frank said. He watched Kim roll her eyes at that, before shutting them tightly. He pulled off his pants and boxers, and then stared at her sopping pussy for a few seconds.
Steven still didn’t look as Frank rubbed the tip of his dick in her juices, getting it nice and wet for entry. But Steven couldn’t stop himself from letting out a delighted squeal in Kim’s voice as Frank’s dick went in. Kim’s pussy was being filled slowly, inch by glorious inch. Kim’s eyes opened as Frank began to pump in and out of her. Steven was letting a guy fuck him. That had not been on his to do list today.
He looked down and was calmed by the sight of Kim’s tits, bobbing up and down as Frank pounding Kim’s pussy. Steven knew that Frank had clearly gotten more than a little pent up. It was okay. As long as he didn’t try to kiss him again. It was okay that he was inside this body. It felt good. So good. Impossibly good. He could do this. He could stay a girl for twenty four hours. He wondered how many orgasms a girl could have in that time. He couldn’t wait to find out.
Back in Ryan and Bailey’s room, things had moved a little more slowly. At Bailey’s insistence, Ryan had begun counting to 90, very slowly. Bailey had turned his count into a silent striptease, removing her shorts and underwear. Ryan only made it to 32, and then stood up.
“Can I touch you?” he asked in a nervous tremor.
She gave him a bigger smile than he had ever seen. “Of course. You can touch me anywhere you want.”
And that’s what he did. She giggled as he began to run nervous, shaky hands over her. He felt her soft, smooth skin that seemed to go on forever. His hands went up and down her arms, then he crouched and moved them down the side of her legs. This put her pussy directly in front of him. He saw the patch of dark blonde hair. He moved his hands to the back side of her legs, and lifted them up. When his fingers touched the underside of her butt cheeks, he hesitated.
Bailey was breathing hard as she encouraged him, “Keep going. Feel all of me. I want you to.”
He kept staring at her pussy as his fingers continued their journey. Her cheeks lifted at his touch, and then he was gripping them in his hands. Her butt was small and tight. He spread her cheeks apart, then pushed them together. He saw a trickle of moisture run down her inner thigh.
“Are you…” he started to ask. Then he brought a hand around and touched the clear fluid.
“Yeah, that’s how wet I am right now for you,” Bailey said with knees that began to shake. “I love how you’re touching me. I love how much you want me. I think I’ll need to sit down soon.”
“Of course, sure, yeah,” Ryan said. He stood and led her to the bed. They sat down, and he put a hand on her boob. And then he kissed her. They stayed like this for a minute or two. Ryan had no way of knowing because for him, time was at a standstill. Eventually, some instinct kicked in, and he began to push her down onto the bed.
“Wait,” she said.
Ryan froze, terrified that he had done something wrong.
“It’s your turn to get naked,” she whispered softly.
He sighed, and clumsily shucked off his clothes, almost falling over in the process. Then he was beside her, pushing her down. She spread her legs, letting his dick rub near her pussy entrance. He tried to push into her. His aim was off.
Bailey giggled, then reached down and took his dick into her hand. “Let me help you out there, virgin boy.”
That phrase struck Ryan hard, as Bailey’s hand guided him into her. His face mirrored a mixture of horror and delight as he felt himself slide into her depths. “Oh!” he gasped at the overwhelming sensation of being inside his crush.
“Try not to cum too fast!” she said quickly. “Think of something else if you need to.”
Ryan was already thinking of something else. The phrase virgin boy. That’s what Tabitha had called him. Had Bailey overheard her say that? She couldn’t have. Tabitha had been inside of Bailey at the time, and Bailey wouldn’t have remembered.
“That’s it,” Bailey cooed underneath him. “You’re nice and hard inside of me.This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”
Had Ryan ever told Bailey that he was a virgin? He didn’t think so. She might have assumed, but…
She wrapped her legs around him and pulled him deeper. “You have to start a rhythm. You need to go in and out, not all the way out mind you, just to the tip. And then push back into me. Slowly at first, but then you can speed up, and you want to try and go deeper. Good. Just keep doing that.”
Ryan found himself following her instruction, even as his mind wondered. She began to moan loudly underneath him. It was incredibly sexy, and Ryan did not doubt that he would have exploded in her several times already if his mind weren’t otherwise preoccupied.
“Put a hand on my tit and pinch it!” she ordered.
Ryan obliged. She leaned forward for a kiss, and he gave it. It seemed hollow though. His dick didn’t care, and as it surged towards the finish line, he asked, “So, I guess thanks for being a great wing woman.”
Her expression became confused. “What? Wing woman? Sure, whatever. Just give it to me harder!”
He did give it to her harder. He was pumping furiously now as he kept to his line of questioning. “You called yourself that earlier, a couple of times actually. You said you’d be my wing woman and help get me laid.”
Her hips were bucking under him, trying to get him deeper every time. “How am I doing so far?” she cried out.
He could feel his balls tighten, and his dick begin to pulse inside her. Even so, he looked her in the eyes, and said the obvious. “You’re not her, are you?”
The hungry smile she gave him was one he had seen before, on Tabitha. She bucked harder and faster against him as she saw he was right on the edge. Then she gave him an extra show by playing with her tits. “That’s not going to stop you from cumming inside of her, is it?”
To Ryan’s regret, it did not stop him in the slightest.
The end?
“Why are we here again?” Ryan asked as they approached the entryway of the large house.
Bailey rolled her blue eyes. “Because we’re freshman in college. We’re here to make friends, experience new things, and party. We were lucky to get this invite, so don’t be a wet blanket or next time I won’t bring you along.”
Ryan’s whole tall, lanky frame slouched in defiance. Parties, any kind of party, was not his scene. He liked his socializing done one or two people at a time. The only person who could have talked him into coming was Bailey. But he still wanted it known by his words and posture that he was going reluctantly. “I didn’t get the invite. I’m just your plus one, and I said I’d rather stay in my dorm room.”
“And I ignored what you said and chose to drag you here anyway,” the bubbly blonde chided as she playfully slapped his arm. “It’ll be good for you. You’re always talking about how terrible you are with women. I’ll help you get the confidence boost you need to get laid!”
Ryan stopped walking as his brain didn’t have enough processing power to understand that last sentence and walk at the same time. For the briefest of moments, he thought that Bailey had offered to have sex with him at the party. He would have been more than okay with that.
The day they had met at orientation had been the day his crush on her began. He had been so awkward when introducing himself to her during an icebreaker. Bailey, however, had accepted him just as he was, and then placed him firmly in the friend zone. But every once in a while, he misinterpreted something she said as a possibility for something more. He knew he was probably wrong though, because he always struggled to communicate with the opposite sex.
Still, Ryan was eternally grateful to have met her. Bailey had helped Ryan come out of his shell bit by bit over the last couple of months. They helped each other in their classes when they could. Most of all, Bailey helped Ryan overcome a strong bout of homesickness he felt at the end of the first month. She was a good friend, possibly the only real one he had made on campus. And he was pretty sure he was in love with her. He kept hoping she would make a move on him, but she never did, and he didn’t want to ruin everything by asking for something more.
But she had mentioned getting laid. Him laid to be specific. And his ears had perked up and wondered if she was coming onto him at last. But as his eyes met hers, and he watched her head tilt in confusion, he realized he had mostly likely misread the situation.
Bailey cut back in. “Yes, laid. I thought boys thought about sex all the time. I can be your wingman. Or wing woman as it were.”
“Wing woman, sure. It won't matter. I’m terrible at-”
“Talking to girls, I know!” Bailey finished for him as she rang the doorbell.
“Except for you,” Ryan pointed out.
Bailey smirked. “Because we’re such good friends!”
Ryan almost said something. He almost let it slip that he didn’t want to be her friend. He wanted to be her lover. But that would have been horribly cheesy and pathetic. And she would have laughed at him. And she’d tell him that she didn’t see him that way. And their friendship would effectively be over. So instead of saying anything, he turned to leave. But Bailey caught his shoulder.
“Hey, you can do this,” she said in all seriousness as she spun him back around. “I’m with you all the way.” She booped his nose and winked at him. “Until you go all the way that is.”
Ryan was about to point out that most likely meant she’d be with him forever, when the door swung wide open to reveal Topher Steward. Everyone knew Topher. He was the guy on campus that could get you things. The kind of things that you needed a fake id to get. Or the kinds of things that helped you ace a test without studying. Or the kinds of mind altering substances that police would absolutely arrest you for having in your possession. And he was always on the lookout for the next thing to sell to his fellow students.
“Oh good, you’re here, you’re here,” Topher said with open arms and a wide grin. As he pulled them inside a large foyer, he spoke loud enough for anyone in the house to hear. “I was worried we were going to have to start the party without you.”
Ryan had a brief second to take in the place as they were shuffled into the lavishly decorated interior. It seemed even bigger on the inside. There were stairs that led left and right to a second story. To his right, there seemed to be a study, and beyond that an entryway to what was probably a kitchen.
Topher was leading them to a large room to their left that had a pool table near the middle, shelves of books along one side of the wall, and a fully stocked bar in the corner. There were already thirty or forty people huddled in groups around the room, talking amongst themselves. Ryan thought he knew a few people from around campus. But there was one person he absolutely recognized, because she was probably the hottest girl in a thousand mile radius. Ryan only knew her name was Tiffany, along with the fact that she was a senior with dark hair, an hourglass figure that could stop traffic, and a gorgeous face.
This vision of loveliness stood watching as Topher ushered in what looked to be two naive freshmen, a guy and a girl, into the room. The guy had spotted her, and was now gawking at her tits as if they were celebrities that might give him an autograph. She was used to men staring at her, but they usually did it with a little more subtlety. She shot him a look and a gesture that said my eyes are up here, then made a motion to Topher to start whatever he had planned. She had other places to be. She wouldn’t be here if Topher hadn’t paid her, and he said he’d only need her services for a 90 second demonstration.
On top of that, he’d also paid for her to recruit several of her more attractive sorority sisters who had come as well. That hadn’t been hard. She ran their sorority, so with a snap of her fingers, they would go to whatever party she told them to. But she wasn’t being paid to be lusted after by a lame freshman. She tapped her foot and looked around again for anyone worthy of her company. It took more than a cursory glance, but she finally saw Frank, one of the few good athletes on campus. As usual, he had brought his girlfriend, Kim. That was a pity. She’d totally jump Frank’s bones if Kim didn’t have him on a two foot leash all the time.
Frank was wondering why they were all just standing around. Usually when he came to one of Topher’s parties, the party was raging by the time he walked through the door. So far this was a very quiet and subdued affair, definitely not his preferred scene. He liked his parties loud, because that way he couldn’t hear his girlfriend’s incessant complaining or trying to draw him into a fight. He would have already cut and run if Topher hadn’t told him that it’d be worth his while. So he tried to wait patiently, and hoped his girlfriend Kim would do the same. But by her posture and the expression of discontent on her face, she was going to do no such thing.
“Babe, look at who’s here,” she said derisively. “I’d talk with, maybe like, two or three of these people. And there’s no music, and nobody’s drinking! We’re leaving.”
He slid his hands around Kim’s tight waist and pulled her towards him to hopefully calm her foul modd. She felt so soft against him, and she smelled terrific. “Babe, give Topher a chance. He said-”
Kim pushed his arms down and stepped out of his embrace. “I don’t care what Topher said!” she hissed louder than she knew Frank would like. “I said we’re leaving.”
Frank sighed. It was always her way or the highway, and had been for the last year they’d been dating. It hadn’t been like that in the beginning. She had been a little feisty, and a lot bossy, but she had always accepted his hands on her body. Now most times he tried to be affectionate, especially in public, she’d push him away. With a year and a half to go till graduation, it seemed she was just keeping him around for his status as a jock. That might be fair, because sometimes he wondered if he was keeping her around for her body. The problem was, he got to touch it less and less these days.
As Frank and Kim stepped out to make their exit, Topher called out, "If you go now, you won't get to see what these do."
Every eye locked onto a folded manilla envelope that Topher extracted from his back pocket. He reached inside and pulled out a two by two inch square of glossy white paper.
"Is that some new drug?" Frank asked.
Topher smiled and began to pass them out, one to each person. "Better. I'll explain what it does after everyone gets one. Don't break the seal on the adhesive to them before I tell you so we can all enjoy the ride together."
Everyone's curiosity peaked and the room began to chatter. One by one, they studied the innocuous looking white square that Topher placed in their palm. As people poked and prodded it and held it up to the light, it looked like just an ordinary sticker. How could it be better than recreational drugs?
Ryan was examining his when Bailey nudged him. "We haven't been here five minutes and someone is already checking you out."
"What?" Ryan asked as he doubtfully scanned the room. "Where?"
"Play it cool, Romeo," Bailey said from the side of her mouth. "3 o'clock."
"I asked where," Ryan began, but stopped talking as Bailey's foot came firmly down on his. He gave a quiet yelp, then followed where Bailey's finger pointed. A cute, chubby girl was staring at him from the opposite side of the room. Well, he didn’t notice that she was staring at first. He noticed her boobs first. They were huge. And when his eyes finally found her face, yes, she was staring at him. He recognized her from his Chemistry class. She gave him a little wave, then looked down at her chest, then arched it forward, as if giving Ryan permission to look all he wanted.
"Damn," Bailey whispered. "It might be easier to get you laid than I thought.”
He looked away from the girl as he remembered Bailey’s words earlier. His mood became sulky. “She’s not my type.”
“No giant boobs, check!” Bailey said.
Ryan noticed that someone else was staring in their direction. An overweight, nerdy looking guy was looking intently at Bailey. Ryan pointed him out to her. “It looks like it might be easy for you too!”
“Ugh, that’s Steven!” Bailey muttered. “No thank you!”
“You know him?”
“He keeps hitting on me in my introductory science class. And not just me, I’ve seen him hit on other girls in class as well. He’s real suave about it too,” she said sarcastically. “His signature move is to stare relentlessly like a creep. But he also likes to brush up against anyone of the female persuasion when getting to his seat in class. I’m pretty sure he would hump anything with a pulse, which he might not have if he ever brushes up against me the way I’ve seen him do other girls.”
“I think you should give him a chance.”
Ryan unsuccessfully dodged the hand to the back of his head.
As Topher handed out the last piece, the room grew quiet with anticipation. With a flourish, Topher held up the last square and said, “Thank you all for accepting the invite to my party. It will be unlike any of my other social gatherings, because of this.” He shook the small square in his hand.
“Is it a new drug?” someone asked excitedly.
“It is not,” Topher grinned wildly. As disappointed murmuring broke out in the room, Topher raised both his hands to quiet them down. “It’s something better! And all of you get to be the first to experience it. Tiffany,” he called as he motioned for her to come forward, “now is when I require your assistance.”
Tiffany did as he asked, but with some hesitancy. She liked making money, but hated surprises, or being made to look foolish, and this had the potential for both. But he had paid her five hundred dollars for 90 seconds, so she dutifully strutted over to him and struck a haughty pose with a fake smile. The clock was ticking as of now, and she began to count.
With Tiffany beside him, Topher continued. “What you have in your hand is a sticker that has been infused with a possession spell. Yes, I said spell, as in magic spell. And with it, you’ll be able to possess a person’s body for about 90 seconds.”
Tiffany did her best not to laugh out loud at him. Had he gone mad, or was he under the influence of some powerful pharmaceuticals? Either way, this would be over in 77 seconds.
Kim was already pulling on Frank’s arm, a sign that she wanted to go. His eyes met hers, and she said loudly, “You brought me here for this. This is a joke, you idiot. Topher’s messing with us. It’s just an excuse for us all to act crazy and pretend someone is possessing us. It’s stupid. We’re not kids.”
Before anyone had a chance to exit, Topher cooly said, “I know none of you will believe me so…” Topher peeled off the plastic tab from the sticker and pressed the adhesive gently to the small of Tiffany’s back. “...so I’ll show you.”
Everyone gasped as Topher’s body phased into Tiffany, who seemed completely unaware that anything was happening to her. Her body only twitched slightly, and then relaxed.
Tiffany began to speak as if nothing were out of the ordinary as she raised a hand and stroked her soft face. “As you can see, I’m not lying. I’m not making it up. The possession spell works. I am now in control of Tiffany’s body.” Her hand slid from her face, landed on her breast, and continued its descent down her voluptuous body. “Every single bit of it.”
It took almost half a minute for Topher to quiet everyone down again. When they did, he kept on explaining with Tiffany’s voice, but his salesmanship. “I can see a lot of you have questions, and I’ll give you the basics. But if you want more than that, you’ll just have to experience it for yourself. For starters, it is reusable as long as the sticker’s adhesive holds, which in testing is around ten to fifteen times. To use it, you must stick it to a person’s back. It doesn’t matter if it’s their skin or their clothes, just has to be near the center of their back for the spell to kick in. And that’s it. You don’t have to say or chant anything, because the spell has been preprogrammed into the sticker. And-”
Tiffany’s body jerked again, and Topher’s body rematerialized right behind her. Tiffany was at a count of 24 seconds. He’d better hurry up with whatever he was trying to sell.
Topher picked back up his pitch in his body. “Well, once the time is up, you pop back out with the person you possessed none the wiser, thinking that nothing has happened at all. And then you can go again by pressing the sticker on their back if you want. Or you can pick someone else. Or you can let someone possess you, or-”
Tiffany stopped counting. Why was Topher so obsessed with this silly bit of fiction. She spun to look at him and asked, “What are you talking about? No one’s going to believe any of this.” But she saw that everyone’s eyes were on her as if she had done a spectacular magic trick.
“You see?” Topher said jubilantly. “She has no idea she was possessed! When you stick someone, it happens instantly, and when you come out, no time for them has passed. The only way they might have a clue that anything funny happened, is if you’ve changed their surroundings, like say moved them to a different room, or if you’ve been naughty and maybe taken off a few articles of their clothing.” He mimed taking his shirt off.
“How is this better than drugs?” a dimwitted sophomore asked.
Topher addressed the question while he deftly reached behind Tiffany’s back and retrieved the sticker. “Haven’t you ever wondered what it would be like to be in someone else’s skin? To feel taller, or stronger, or…” he placed the sticker onto Tiffany’s back again, and Topher vanished into her.
Tiffany’s hands went just under her breasts, and she pushed them up and locked eyes with several guys in the room. “...or to know what it’s like to touch the best boobs on campus?” As Topher glanced around, he saw that he had just convinced every man to stick around. “But ladies, you could know what it’s like to have an extra appendage between your legs. To feel what it’s like to run a hand up and down your own dick for a change. Or, you could walk a mile in another woman’s shoes and see the world through their eyes. The possibilities are endless, right up til the time runs out.”
Topher could tell that not everyone was on board, but many were already imagining what they could do, or who they wanted to try it out on first. He hurried his pitch along. “But maybe some of you are worried that if you were possessed, someone would have access to all the secrets inside your head. Well rest easy. No one will be able to access your mind, your memories, your passwords and pin numbers. The only thing a person will know about you is what they already knew when they possessed you.”
Topher knew he’d convinced even more of them now by more eyes darting around, looking for a person to stick. He gave the naysayers their only out. “Anyone who wants to go should leave right now. You can even take your stickers with you, but know this! They won’t work outside of this house. The magic is tied to this place. The sticker would become just an ordinary sticker. And if you try to leave in the body of another person, you’d get ejected from them immediately.”
Tiffany’s eyes had a few more seconds to gauge people’s responses, until Topher reappeared behind her. She didn’t understand why Topher had stopped talking mid sentence. Her sorority sisters were looking at her with a mix of nervousness, excitement, and possibly fear. She didn’t think a full 90 seconds had passed, but she was going to cut whatever this was short. “Look, Topher, if you don’t need me anymore, my sisters and I are going to leave.”
“Just 10 more seconds, Tiffany,” Topher said patiently. “Yes, anyone who wants to, should go now.” Six people began to shuffle forward to leave. Before they could get far, Topher added one more incentive. “But for anyone who wants to stay, there is an open bar.”
Only three people actually left, one of which was the frightened looking sorority sister. Tiffany thought that was weird. Nobody left when there was an open bar. Why hadn’t Topher led with that instead of talking about some possession sticker nonsense.
One person that was trying to leave was Kim. She was gritting her teeth and glaring furiously at her boyfriend. “Let’s go!” she commanded.
But Frank dug in his heels and said firmly. “I want to stay! If you want to go, go!”
His girlfriend’s eyes narrowed and both her hands went to her hips. “Why? So some skank can possess you and grab your dick? Or maybe they possess me and try and make out with you? Is that something you want? For some hussy or geek to take me over and make out with you?”
“Uh…” Was all the reply Frank could muster. Her words had sounded so exciting, so forbidden and alluring.
“Are you kidding me right now?” was all that Kim got out, before a girl behind her put a sticker on Kim’s back
Frank watched with wide eyes as it happened. He saw his girlfriend gasp, then squeal! She began to flex and wiggle her fingers. After that, she brought her hands to her boobs and started squeezing them shamelessly. “Not as large as mine,” Kim’s voice said appreciatively. “But definitely perkier.” Kim looked up into Frank’s eyes and smiled. “Sorry. It seemed like your girlfriend was about to rip you a new one. I hope you don’t mind.”
Not only did Frank not mind, but he was hornier than he had ever been. “Would you mind if I made out with my girlfriend right now? Probably won’t get a chance to later.”
The person in Kim appeared to consider it for a second, then shrugged her shoulders and giggled. “Sury, why not. It’s not my body.”
Their lips met and their tongues intertwined, but Frank wouldn’t get to experience all of it, because a sticker got placed on his back as well.
All around them, people were placing their stickers, and several people disappeared into someone else.
“Let the possession party commence!” Topher shouted. He bobbed and weaved his way quickly to the bar and began pouring drinks. “If any of you are feeling frisky, all the bedrooms are available to you!” He pressed a button on his phone and dance music flooded the room.
The most attractive people were the first to get possessed. Bailey would have fallen into that category, but when two people tried, Ryan saw them coming and intervened, pulling her out of the way. They escaped temporarily to a corner and watched as people started behaving strangely. Clothes began coming off and inhibitions were shed all around them. All combinations of people started making out passionately, guys and girls, guys and guys, and girls and girls, kissing, touching, groping. Two of the sorority girls had taken off their tops and bras and were just mashing their boobs together and giggling profusely.
“So, we’re not staying and being a part of this insanity, are we?” Ryan asked Bailey as they surveyed the debauchery around them. He wanted to leave. But he was also keenly aware that Bailey was almost cheek to cheek with him, and he didn’t mind that at all. He could smell her perfume, or lotion…whatever girls wear that made them smell good. He’d stay in this corner with just her for hours if she’d let him.
“How about I let you know in 90 seconds,” Bailey grinned as she snaked a hand behind Ryan’s back and placed her sticker.
To Ryan, it was as if no time had passed at all. Bailey’s face was grinning mischievously at him one second, and then the next, his face was meshed together with a girl’s. He could feel her in his mouth. It was hot and wet and warm. His dick was throbbing. He pulled back, and saw Bailey appear next to him out of the corner of his eye. He recognized the girl in front of him though, the one who had just been exploring his mouth with her tongue. It was the chubby girl that had been staring at him earlier.
She looked at him now with disappointment and hunger. “Why’d you stop?” Then she spotted Bailey.. “Oh, were you the one possessing him?”
“I don’t…” Ryan was at a loss. He looked at Bailey curiously, and she just gave him a thumbs up.
The girl smirked at Bailey and extended a hand towards her. “You’re a really good kisser. My name’s Tabitha.”
She took it and replied, “I’m Bailey, and this guy that can’t form complete sentences is my friend Ryan.”
“Just friends?” Tabitha asked firmly.
“Oh yeah, just friends,” Bailey confirmed, which felt like a knife through Ryan’s heart.
Tabitha looked at Ryan slyly. “I wonder if he’d kiss differently now?”
“Only one way to find out,” Bailey teased.
Tabitha wasted no time in pulling Ryan’s face back to hers. Again, Ryan felt her hot tongue as it probed his mouth. She was the one that ended the kiss this time. “Not as good, but he can learn.”
Ryan glanced at Bailey, and saw that she was happy for him. He couldn’t help but resent her pushing this Tabitha person into his path. Yes, he had gotten all worked up. But he was not happy. He didn’t want Tabitha. He wanted Bailey. He should just tell her that, out loud, instead of it broadcasting on loop in his mind. But he knew, deep down, he was too much of a coward. He tried to smile back at his friend, but his mouth crinkled and looked like had bitten into something sour.
Bailey thought he was joking, and made a face back at him. “Enjoy yourself, kids. I’m going to go get a drink.”
As she walked towards the bar, Tabitha hinted at Ryan, “I wouldn’t say no to a drink.”
Ryan had found his ability to brood wildly impared by a toplessTiffany who was making out with one of her sorority sisters.
Tabitha’s temper flared, but she gave Ryan another chance and loudly repeated, “Will you get me a drink?”
The question got into Ryan’s ears and bounced around as he saw the two gorgeous women kiss and fondle each other. He somehow managed to say, “I’m not thirsty.”
Tabitha looked angrily in Tiffany’s direction, and walked away from Ryan, who had just seemed to notice how many more topless women there were in the room.
Close by, Frank noticed his kiss with Kim had ended abruptly. One second he was kissing her luscious lips, and the next she had disappeared. Before he could even look around for her, time seemed to skip again, and he found himself in a room making out with a girl he had seen earlier, but didn’t know. Her hands were underneath his shirt, feeling the abs he worked so hard to keep. He heard the door shut behind him as whoever had possessed him left for a different target.
The woman in front of him was now trying to remove his shirt entirely. As he began to push her away, his girlfriend burst through the door at the worst possible time.
Kim charged like a bull and yelled, “Is this why you wanted to stay you two timing bastard!”
The girl on the bed with Frank yelped, rolled away, and ran out the door.
“Baby, this isn’t what it looks like!” Frank began.
“It looked like you were hooking up with that girl that just ran out of here!” Kim said as she took a swipe at Frank.
Frank dodged, and then continued to do so as Kim kept yelling and swinging away at him. Unbeknownst to her, a rotund looking guy had entered the room, and was sneaking up behind her. Frank saw. He saw it clearly. He could have said something, could have warned her, or shouted at the guy to stop, but he didn’t. A part of him, a very specific part actually, wanted his girlfriend to be possessed. He watched as a sticker was placed on her back, and the guy took control of his girlfriend’s hot body.
Instantly, Kim began to take her top and hurriedly struggled with her bra strap. As she did this, she said, “Ooh, I like this one. She’s real feisty. You’re welcome by the way, man. I think she had it in for you..”
The bra fell away and her perky breasts sprang into view. It wasn’t Frank’s first time seeing them, but it was different somehow. It wasn’t his girlfriend behind those eyes. It was someone else, controlling her, moving her, exposing her. For reasons he could not explain, it was the hottest thing he had ever experienced.
“Hey,” Frank said in almost a whisper. “That’s my girlfriend.”
The person inside Kim took this as a challenge, and Kim retorted, “Well sorry pal, but she’s mine for like, another 80 seconds or so.”
Frank looked her body up and down, then asked, “Could you take off her skirt too?”
Kim raised one eyebrow and jeered, “You want me to take off her panties while I’m at it?”
“Yes,” Frank said quietly. He was suddenly embarrassed as he realized he was asking this of another guy. A guy who would slide her underwear down her legs. Who would be able to see his girlfriend without a stitch on her.
Kim began to slowly nod like Frank’s request were totally sensible. “Alright. But first, introductions. The guy extended Kim’s hand while the other cupped a boob. “The name’s Steven.”
“Oh, uh, Frank.” He shook the offered hand. This part was weird, but it was worth it as he watched Kim’s eyes lock onto his, and she pulled down her skirt, then her panties.
“So, now what?” Kim’s voice asked casually. “You’re just going to stare at me? I mean, if that’s what gets you going.”
Frank thought it was so weird hearing Kim sound so easy going and accommodating. She’d been nothing but angry, bossy, and belligerent to him for months. Now she was talking to him without any of those tones or irritated expressions she typically used. And now that he wasn’t shaking her hand, she was groping both of her boobs.
“Can you like, make her strike sexy poses?” Frank stammered. Why was he so nervous?
Kim stopped mid squeeze. “I thought you said she was your girlfriend? Why can’t you just ask her to do that for you?”
“She is, I just, um, we’ve been going through a rough patch recently and…”
Kim put a hand on his shoulder. “Trouble in paradise. I get it. Say no more. I can pose her real provocative like, and you could take pictures. I wouldn’t mind that, especially if you’re willing to send them my way.” Kim fell back onto the bed and asked with feigned innocence, “Now how do you want me?”
Frank’s mouth went dry as he pulled out his phone to take pics.
Downstairs, Ryan was still gawking at the boobs all around him, but eventually remembered that Bailey was somewhere on the premises. Hadn’t she said the bar? He went to find her to see if she was ready to leave. But should he try possessing someone first? That was the whole point of this, wasn’t it? He could possess Bailey, but…just because she had possessed him, didn’t mean she’d be cool with him possessing her. They should just leave. But first he had to find Bailey She was being a terrible wing woman.
He felt someone touch his arm and he whirled around. He swallowed hard, as a genuine goddess began speaking to him.
“So, can you like, protect me from all the creeps here?” Tiffany asked like a helpless maiden. “Everyone keeps possessing my friends and I. Maybe if I’m with you, they’ll leave me alone.”
“Oh, uh, I guess that’s okay.” Ryan managed meekly.
She sidled up next to him and began running her hand up and down his arm. “My hero. I’m glad you’re here to look after me.”
Ryan tried to respond, but he had registered that her breast was pressing into his arm. It was so big and soft. He had never imagined being this close to Tiffany’s boobs. His head had turned of its own accord and his eyes had zeroed in on her cleavage. He had a front row seat to the twins. He could die happy. Wait, she was saying something. He hadn’t been paying attention! “I’m sorry, what?”
Tiffany giggled. “I said you seemed hypnotized by my boobs.”
Ryan went red. He couldn’t look at Tiffany. In a panic, he began frantically looking around for Bailey to help him. “Oh. I’m sorry! They were right there and, they’re so perfect, and…”
Her eyes narrowed. “Who are you looking for if perfect boobs are right in front of you?”
“My friend, Bailey,” Ryan answered honestly, even as his airway seemed to be closing up as a defense mechanism not to say anything stupid until his friend could come and bail him out.
Tiffany pulled back and put her hands on her hips. “Ryan. A very attractive woman that you couldn’t stop ogling earlier is now right in front of you, and you’re looking for me! Get your head in the game!”
Ryan’s head snapped back to Tiffany. “What?”
And right about then he watched as Bailey was ejected from Tiffany’s body.
“Are you kidding me?” Ryan asked her. While Tiffany looked at the familiar freshman in front of her, Bailey moved quickly to retrieve the sticker.
“What is happening?” Tiffany blurted angrily. “I seem to keep blacking out and waking up with different people in front of me.” She looked down at her outfit. “At least my tits aren’t out this time!”
Bailey put the sticker back onto Tiffany’s killer bod and was back in the driver’s seat a moment later.
“Why are you inside her?” Ryan asked.
“Oh, so you can talk now that you know it’s me in here?” Tiffany/Bailey challenged.
“Well, yeah, I mean…”
“I’m trying to build your confidence Ryan. Tiffany is just a girl. Sure, she’s hot and all, but you can carry on a conversation with her the same as me if you just…Ryan…” She saw that she had lost him again to the depths of her temporary cleavage. “Oh for the love of…here! Get it out of your system.”
She grabbed the back of his head and plunged him face forward into her tits. She laughed as he struggled briefly, but then he began to slide his face around the big, bouncy orbs. Bailey noted that it felt good, maybe better than hers felt. But it had been awhile since someone’s face had been this close to her chest.
Ryan was in heaven, but with a limited supply of oxygen. He didn’t mind though. His face was between Tiffany’s boobs, with Bailey in charge. He’d still prefer Bailey’s body, but he could make do. He lifted an arm and pulled her top and bra down, just enough for a nipple to pop out.
“Hey, I’m not sure you should…” Tiffany’s voice protested, but stopped as Bailey felt Ryan’s tongue snake out and lick her borrowed tit. Damn! It was so sensitive. She was going to have to rub one out when this was all over. Or maybe she could still find a guy at this party to screw. As Ryan began to suck on the nipple, she reveled in the pleasure for several seconds, then pushed him back. “Okay, okay. I think your confidence has been built. Told you I’d be a great wing woman.”
“Can I…could you let me kiss her?” Ryan begged. “I uh, probably need a lot of practice in that area.”
Tiffany’s mouth grimaced slightly. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“You made me kiss a girl with my own mouth earlier!” Ryan countered. “And you just let me lick Tiffany’s tits!”
“That’s a very good point,” Tiffany laughed. “Well, I guess it’s okay.”
She puckered and leaned forward. Ryan felt his heart surge, and his lips met hers, and it was an amazing two seconds, and then he felt the slap.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing!” Tiffany shrieked, and hurried off. She only made it five steps before a guy hopped into her and began feeling her up.
Bailey was standing in front of Ryan, and mouthed the word sorry.
“It’s fine,” Ryan said with a hand on his stinging cheek.
“Let me make it up to you. Is there anyone else you’d like me to possess?” Bailey asked helpfully.
Ryan thought that was such a loaded question. There were several beautiful women in this house. Bailey would probably let him touch any of them he wanted. But the person he really wanted to touch was right in front of him. He should just say that.
He tried. “Maybe…what if you…”
And then Tabitha walked behind Bailey and put a sticker on her back.
Upstairs, Frank was wishing 90 seconds were longer as Steven popped out of Kim for the fifth time, and promptly fell off the bed with a loud thunk. As his girlfriend’s face flared with anger, Frank reached towards her and pulled the sticker off her back. “Here!” he said, and shoved it towards Steven.
“Are you helping this gross pervert possess me?” Kim snarled. She looked down at herself. “And you still haven’t made him put my clothes on?”
As she was shouting, Steven placed the sticker on her back. It didn’t stick, but fell off.
“Put it on her man!” Frank urged.
“I did!” Steven said anxiously. “It’s not sticking anymore. That means the spell won’t work.” He looked towards the closed bedroom door as he planned a quick exit. He did not want to be in the middle of the impending lover’s quarrel.
“Worst. Boyfriend. Ever!” Kim shouted. “What were you letting him do to me?” She seemed to notice the phone in his hand for the first time and gasped. “Were you taking naked pictures of me? While this jerk was touching my body? I’m going to kill both of you as soon as I get my fucking clothes back on!”
“That’s my cue!” Steven said as he lumbered towards the door. “Good luck man.”
Steven was pretty out of shape, and Frank beat him by a mile to the door. He grabbed Steven by the shoulder and began whispering in his ear. “I never used my sticker. You can have it if you keep possessing her and, uh…let me…”
“What are you whispering about?” Kim shouted as she pulled her pants back on.
“Let me touch her,” Frank blurted out.
“I told you I’m not doing anything gay!”
“It’s not gay when you’re in a chick!”
Kim’s shirt was on, and she walked towards them with malicious resolve in her eyes.
“Negotiate later!” Steven squawked. “Possess now!”
Frank gave him the sticker he had kept in his pocket. A second later, his girlfriend’s hands were pummeling him about the head. He blocked what he could and tried to catch her arms.
“We are officially over!” she screamed. “And you should know I’ve been cheating on you with Mark for months. He’s got a huge dick! Much bigger than-”
But she stopped as Steven had moved behind her, and taken control.
Frank felt the fight go out of Kim. His hands were still on her. He let them slide down her arms. Her face lifted to his, and she looked him straight in the eyes and asked very hesitantly, “What kind of touching? Does this count?”
Frank stared at her soft lips. He wanted to kiss her so bad right now. Why? Why was she so much more alluring to him this way, with someone else inside of her?
“Hey dummy,” she said snapping her fingers in front of his face. “Clock’s ticking. What do you want me to do so I can keep your sticker?”
“I want to kiss you!” Frank demanded.
Kim’s body twisted from his grasp. “Gross. No way! I’m not kissing a guy. I didn’t have a problem posing your girl, especially after you said you’d send me the pics. But I’m not kissing you, or letting you touch me, or…”
“What if I eat her out?”
Kim/Steven paused. “I, uh…I guess that’s… Would I have to see your face?”
Frank shook his head. “Not if it’s between your legs.”
Steven was tempted. He’d only played with the boobs of the other girls’ he’d possessed, except for Kim. He’d managed to clumsily rub her pussy. It had felt okay, but he was pretty sure he was doing it wrong. “Have you eaten your girlfriend’s pussy before?”
“It’s been awhile, but yeah.”
“Did she like it?”
“Oh yeah.”
Steven knew the seconds were slipping away. He didn’t want to waste a whole possession round on the negotiations. “I guess, but no other touching.”
“How about this,” Frank said as he fished from his pocket Kim’s unused sticker that he had taken from her early in the chaos. “I give you this fresh sticker as well, and you let me kiss my girlfriend before I lick her pussy and make you cum.”
Two stickers! That was enough for Steven. “Deal! But I’m going to close my eyes and pretend you’re a chick. And try not to use a lot of tongue-”
But Frank’s mouth covered up any more words from Kim’s mouth. And his hands became needy and started extracting her from her clothes as quickly as he could.
Downstairs, Tabitha in Bailey’s body was grilling Ryan about his preferences. “How about that one?” she said as she pointed to a brunette taking shots at the bar.
“No. I don’t want you to possess her either?”
“And you’re sure you don’t want me to possess that Tiffany girl again? The incredibly hot one that everyone has been fighting over.”
“I’m sure.”
“Then who do you want? Because it wasn’t me! I could tell when you kissed me. But I can be literally anyone in this house you’d like to fuck right now. So who’s it going to be?”
“I, uh, no one, okay. Why do you even want to do this with me?”
A mischievous expression danced across Bailey’s face. “Because my kink is deflowering virgins. And I’d be willing to bet that you have never had a first time, have you?”
Ryan sighed and nodded once.
“Well then, virgin boy, I find myself with a terrific opportunity, and a quandary. You don’t seem to want to have sex in my body, but that’s okay, because I can be anyone in this house that you want me to be.” Tabitha watched him carefully. He refused to make eye contact with her, and only stared at the floor. Occasionally his eyes would drift up and he’d look her in the boobs.
A thought occurred to her, and she ventured a guess. “It’s this girl, isn’t it? The one I’m in right now. Bailey, right? The one that’s just your friend. She’s the one you really want.” Ryan said nothing but his eyes snapped right to hers, and they were filled with panic. That look told Tabitha all she needed to know, and she placed a hand gently onto Ryan’s cheek. “Well, she’s right here for the taking,” Bailey’s voice purred. “What do you say, virgin boy?”
“It’s not the same,” Ryan argued. “You’re not really her. And the spell will wear off any-”
And at that moment, it did, and Tabitha felt herself pushed out of Bailey’s body. She grabbed the sticker off of Bailey’s back, and almost put it back on. But she looked at Ryan curiously first, and seemed to reconsider her course of action. She whirled about suddenly and headed towards the bar where Topher was pouring a steady stream of drinks.
Bailey pulled her hand from Ryan’s face and asked curiously, “Did someone just possess me? What did they make me do?”
“Nothing,” Ryan said truthfully. “We just talked.”
“What? Lame!” Her gaze shifted to something behind him. “Oh my gosh! Look at that!” she exclaimed, pointing to a guy in the corner of the room. His sizeable dick was out and he was twirling it around and around. “He’s doing the helicopter twirl thing! I’d heard guys could do that, but I’ve never seen it til now.”
A girl popped out behind the guy just then and she walked away with a blush and a smile. She didn’t get far, as someone hopped into her, and her tits were out shortly thereafter.
“You good for a bit?” Bailey asked. “I’ve got to go try that out.”
“The helicopter thing? Be my guest,” Ryan said, doing his best to smile at her.
Bailey started to walk away, but noticed the cracks in her friend’s smile. “You okay?”
Ryan did his best to swallow his feelings. “I’m fine. Go and see what it’s like to twirl a dick. Can we leave after that?”
She sighed. “I guess, since it doesn’t seem like you’re having a good time.” And then she ran to sticker the guy.
A few seconds later, Ryan heard a guy’s voice yell from across the room, “Ryan, look! Look at my dick! I’m doing it!”
Ryan waved and gave Bailey another thin lipped smile, then walked to the bar. He might as well get a drink before he left. He was glad to see that Tabitha had already come and gone.
Upstairs, Steven was in paradise. He was getting eaten out 90 seconds at a time, which wasn’t ideal, but still felt amazing. He was fully prepared to use the last of the stickers possessing Kim if Frank kept licking that pussy.
It was even okay that Frank’s hand occasionally reached up and groped Kim’s boobs. It felt good to have another hand squeezing and pinching them. Steven arched Kim’s back as another wave of pleasure washed over him, as Frank hit that very special spot. “Oh damn! This feels so great! A pussy is so much better than a dick!”
Frank came up for air to ask, “How about you let me fuck her?”
Kim’s hand pushed Frank’s head back down. “Stop talking crazy and keep licking me.”
Frank obeyed for another few seconds, then stuck two fingers inside her sopping wet hole.
Kim/Steven yelped. “Ooh that feels weird, but I like it!”
“My dick goes in even deeper than that,” Frank pointed out. He watched as Kim/Steven seemed to consider this.
But before he could make up his mind, Steven popped out of Kim from behind her, which meant Kim was on top of him. Steven pushed her off quickly, and Frank handed him a sticker, which Steven hurriedly slapped onto Kim’s back. It slid off. “This one’s out, Frank.”
“Okay, here’s the other one.”
Frank saw Kim’s expression during the exchange. She still looked mad, but also like she was trying to work out a puzzle. “What have you been doing to my pussy?” she moaned. “It’s on fire.”
“Uh, just attacking it with my tongue.”
“You haven’t done that in forever,” she growled. She noticed Steven and shot him a glare, but then continued talking to Frank. “My pussy feels so tingly babe. Why don’t you ask this guy to leave so you can get back to it.”
Frank had to wonder why she would suddenly be cool with this, especially after yelling consistently at him between possessions.
“Oh,” Kim cooed. “I know what you’re thinking. This doesn’t mean we’re getting back together. I’m just so turned on right now and…” Kim froze for a second as Steven lunged for her, then, “I’m back inside her again, Frank. You should really listen to what the lady said and get that pussy.”
Not one to look a gift horse in the pussy, Frank did just that, at least for next several seconds. And then he stopped to talk again, and Kim sounded like her old self as she cut him off before he could say a word, “Stop starting and stopping. You keep getting me right to the edge and then back off at the worst time.”
“How about I go ask Topher for more stickers?” Frank propositioned. “I’ll pay him whatever he wants. And you let me fuck Kim with you inside of her, and then you keep the stickers.”
Steven mulled it over quickly, which wasn’t easy as he was so horny and couldn’t really think straight, pun intended. “Go get the stickers, and maybe I’ll give you a handjob.”
Frank tore from the room, a man on a mission.
Ryan was on his second drink at the bar when Frank bumped into him. “Hey man, watch…” Ryan stopped himself from saying anything else when he saw Frank’s additional height and muscles.
“Sorry bro,” Frank said with a brief glance at Ryan. “Hey Topher!”
“Having a good time?” Topher asked with a wink.
Frank glanced at Ryan and a woman at the bar. “I need to have a private conversation real quick with my friend here.”
“Oh, so we’re friends now,” Topher smiled. “I thought I was just your dealer.” He waved everyone else away.
Ryan was slow to leave, and heard Frank say, “No man, we’re best friends. Listen, you got any more stickers? I’m willing to pay.”
Topher nodded like he had expected this. “You’re not the first person to ask. You know the drill. Only the first taste was free.”
“How much?”
“Two hundred bucks.”
Ryan almost spit out his drink as he began to walk away. Two hundred bucks for 90 seconds? Well, 90 seconds times ten. That still seemed like a huge rip off.
He heard Frank read his mind. “That’s way too much money!”
“Well like I said, you only got a taste. What I’m selling will have more of a kick.”
Ryan was out of ear shot after that. He didn’t have money like that to blow anyway. He looked around for Bailey. He really wanted to leave now. He checked where helicopter guy had been. He was still there, but he wasn’t twirling his dick anymore. He was stroking it though, and a few other girls were watching him do it with wide, hungry eyes.
Ryan observed long enough to see a different girl hop out of him. Then another girl, one that had been eagerly waiting, possessed him a second later. Ryan shook his head. That well hung guy had a line of girls waiting to possess him like he was some kind of ride. But where was Bailey? He was beginning to get worried when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned and breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of his friend’s pretty face.
“Sorry,” Bailey said quickly when she saw his concern fade. “Didn’t mean to worry you. Just had to use the bathroom.”
“It’s okay. You ready to go?”
“Well, what if-”
A person slapped her hard on the back, interrupting her. A guy had just put a sticker on her back. It stuck to her, but the guy didn’t disappear into her. He pulled it off and cursed, then said, “Oh man. I think I’m out!”
As he turned and walked away, he got possessed a second later by a girl who ran up behind and stuck him. His body quickly walked over to where Tiffany was making out with another guy, and began grinding his dick against her hip.
“If people are running out, that means the party will be winding down soon, I guess,” Ryan noted. “Sorry you didn’t get laid, Bailey. At least you got to swing a dick around. How did that feel?”
“What?” Bailey asked, then added quickly. “Oh, uh, good I guess. Hey, come with me.”
She grabbed his hand and pulled him into the foyer, but instead of going towards the door, she led him up the flight of stairs.
“Where are we going?” Ryan asked.
“Just somewhere with a bit of privacy,” was all she said.
The first two rooms they tried were occupied. One contained a guy and a girl going at it like it was their job. The second one had the makings of a mini orgy. Ryan had to pull Bailey away from that one because she couldn’t stop staring.
When they got into the third room, Bailey locked the door behind them, then looked intently at Ryan.
“What?” Ryan wondered aloud. “Do I got something on my face? Why’d you bring us up here?”
“Is there something you want to say to me?” Bailey asked. She walked towards him slowly with a look of concern.
“What?” Ryan asked apprehensively. Internally, his mind was racing, wondering if she knew about his feelings for her. If she asked him directly, he’d deny, deny, deny.
“Is the reason you didn’t pursue any of the other girls here…” she got shy all of a sudden. “Is it because maybe…you like me?”
“Yes!” Ryan practically shouted. So much for denial. “I mean…I know we’re friends. And I don’t want to ruin that. Our friendship has been the best thing that happened to me since I got here and-”
Bailey raced towards him and kissed him. Her momentum pushed him back, and he fell into a sitting position on the bed. Bailey crawled onto his lap, and peppered his lips and face with her mouth.
“Oh my gosh!” he gasped. “Is this really happening? Is this real?”
In a quick movement, she yanked her shirt off and watched as his eyes locked onto her bra. “What do you think?” She seemed to take a moment to admire her cleavage before taking one of his hands and placing it over her bra. She helped him squeeze her. “Do these feel real, Ryan?”
Ryan was so happy, and so turned on, but there was this thought, a stupid thought, one that buzzed about and dared to try and interrupt his happiness. “Uh, is it really you in there, Bailey?”
With mild shock, she asked, “What? You think someone’s possessing me right now and that’s why I’m coming on to you?”
“Well, yes. I mean, this was a possession party after all.”
Bailey nodded thoughtfully. “Okay, you’re right. But it has been longer than 90 seconds since I started talking to you downstairs, hasn’t it?”
“I think so.”
“Well if you’re not sure, why don’t you count down from 90. You can watch me closely while I remove this bra.” With a soft click, she unfastened the clasp, and let the bra slowly fall away from her boobs. Ryan was watching very closely indeed as she added. “If you see anyone pop out of me, you’ll know I was possessed. But if not, you can decide what you’d like to do with me next.”
In a room close by, Kim became aware for what seemed like the twentieth time that she was sitting on a bed, still completely naked. That wasn’t new to her. Nor was the fact that her fingers were on her pussy or a hand was squeezing her boobs. That had been how she had discovered herself a few times now. Also not new, was how her body felt. It wanted sex, it wanted to be penetrated, it wanted to climax! She hadn’t been this worked up in a while But none of that mattered because she knew what would happen if she didn’t move quickly. The pervert behind her would put the sticker onto her back and take over her body. And then she’d find herself in a slightly different position with a finger on her clit and a hand on her boob in another 90 seconds.
All of this flashed across her mind in the span of a few moments, which normally would have been too long, but behind her, Steven had fumbled the sticker. He picked it up off the bed and tried to place it again, but Kim had already sprung to her feet, whirled around, and faced him.
The door was just past him. She could do this. She’d have to run into the rest of the house naked. And would have to dodge anyone else with a sticker. But she’d just have to make it out of the house. That’s what Topher had said. The magic only worked inside the house. And then she’d get even with Frank, and Topher too. But first she’d flatten this overweight geek who was standing in her way. She faked like she was about to dart left, then faked again to the right. The guy’s response time was slow. She could get by this guy with no problem.
“I uh, I can’t let you leave before Frank gets back,” Steven stammered.
“Yeah, and why’s that?” Kim shot back.
“Because he wants to, uh…” Steven couldn’t finish and went red.
Kim spit out the rest in a fury. “He wants to fuck me! While you’re in my body! Is that it?”
“No, I wouldn’t let…I’m not gay!”
Kim laughed in spite of herself. “Oh, I’m sorry! I get confused sometimes. You’re not gay. You just want my boyfriend’s dick inside of you, while you’re in me. Now it all makes sense.”
“It’s not the same!” Steven argued, trying to stall for time. “He just really knows how to get you off! But he’ll only do it for your body. That’s why he’s coming back. He can’t get enough of that,” he said as he motioned to her.
Kim wasn’t sure how to feel about that. She believed their relationship had been nearing its end, but…he still wanted her. She had walked all over him for months, and he still only had eyes for her. He could be banging any other girl while she had been possessed, but he wanted her body. But then she gave it more thought. He wanted her body, but not her mind, otherwise Frank wouldn’t need this pathetic excuse of a man to possess her. And Frank had been helping him do it!
“Well, he’s going to have to learn to live without me!” Kim declared, and then made her move. She had been right. The guy’s weight did make him slower. She was past him in a flash and her hand was on the door before he was fully off the bed. She yanked it open, and ran right into Frank.
“Steven, I thought I told you to stay…” Frank trailed off as he saw a sheepish Steven with one foot still on the bed. “Oh, I see.”
Kim whirled around so her back wasn’t exposed to Steven, so he couldn’t use the sticker on her. Her bare butt backed into Steven, and she felt his dick push against her. She understood what it was to be between a rock and a hard place.
With her eyes on Steven, she pleaded with Frank, “Babe, you don’t need him. If you want to fuck me, I’ll let you. I didn’t know you still loved me and wanted me this much. If you make this creep go away, we can try again.”
Frank put his beefy hands on her shoulders and spun her around. She was scared for a second, until she heard Frank’s booming voice say, “Drop the sticker, Steven.”
“But…” Steven protested as he shambled forward.
Kim smirked. She couldn’t believe Frank was buying her “try again” speech. She looked up at him and said, “My hero.” Then gave him a peck on the cheek.
She was so confident that her deception was working, that she didn’t notice Frank’s hand reach into his back pocket and pull out a blue sticker, and extend it towards Steven. Steven wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do, but then he made eye contact with Frank, who winked at him. Steven closed the gap quickly, grabbed the sticker from Frank’s hand, and began to remove the plastic tab.
Kim realized that something was going on, but when she tried to turn around and see, Frank’s hands clamped onto her shoulders, pinning her to the spot. “What’s going on, Frank?” she asked sharply.
Frank gave her a knowing smile. “Everything with you has been hard lately, and you just suddenly have a change of heart about us? I’m sure that’s not the only time you’ve been fake with me.”
She began to squirm in his grip as she shouted in his face, “You’re right about that you pathetic waste of space! I will make you regret this! First chance I get I’m going to cut off your-”
And then the fight left her. She stopped squirming, and her face broke out into a grin. “I’m back in.”
Frank couldn’t help himself. He kissed her.
Steven felt a tongue enter Kim’s smaller mouth. Her feminine body responded automatically to the sensation of Frank’s body so close to hers. Steven’s mind rejected it a moment later, and he pushed Frank off and began spitting. “No, ew! Gross, man! Why’d you do that?”
Frank ushered them both in so he could lock the door. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help myself. This is such a huge turn on for me.”
“I’m happy you’ve found your kink, but I am not comfortable kissing you.”
“But it’s okay if I eat her out?”
“Obviously,” Kim/Steven said as she fell backwards onto the bed and spread her legs wide.
“And you’ll let me feel her tits?”
“Yeah, yeah, all that feels good. Now hurry up so we don’t waste this sticker.”
Frank opened his mouth to say something, then thought better of it and lowered his mouth to Kim’s pussy. It wasn’t long before Kim’s moans filled the room. Frank started groping her tits with one hand, then both. She grabbed his hands and helped him squeeze harder. She had always liked it a little rough.
Steven found it hard to think about anything else but the waves of pleasure that kept rippling through Kim’s body. If he had been aware of the passage of time, he might have realized that more than 90 seconds had come and gone, a few times actually. He felt a finger go inside of Kim’s pussy again, then two, all while Frank’s tongue did its thing. Steven felt Kim’s pelvis begin to instinctively writhe and buck against Frank’s face, and a tsunami of ecstasy washed over him from head to toe. It was better than any orgasm Steven had ever felt in a male body, and lasted much longer as well.
Frank stopped his tongue lashing and withdrew his fingers. He looked at Kim, who lay sweaty and spent before him. His dick was throbbing. It needed release. Her legs had closed around Frank’s head as she came, but he steadily began to spread them wide again.
A thought finally occurred to Steven. “Hey, how long’s it been? Shouldn’t I have been kicked out of her by now?”
“If it had been the normal sticker, yeah. But Topher gave me one that lasts a bit longer.”
Kim’s face became worried. “How much longer?”
“Twenty four hours,” Frank said, and placed a finger directly onto Kim’s clit.
Kim moaned and her body squirmed. “But, that’s too long,” Kim/Steven whined. “I don’t want to be a girl for a whole day.”
“I’ll try to help it pass quickly for you,” Frank smiled as he slipped a finger back inside. “Or I could stop right now and we could go our separate ways.”
“No!” she pleaded. “Keep doing that! I’m still so horny! I could totally go again.”
That was the other kick Topher had promised. Not only would this version of the spell last longer, but it included an aphrodisiac spell. The possessed person’s body would have a higher libido the whole time. Still, Frank acted surprised by Steven’s words, even as he continued to tease Kim’s clit. “Oh? Well, I wish I could help you, but…” Frank stopped touching Kim entirely, leaving a very frustrated Steven.
Steven wasn’t dumb. He knew where this was heading. Kim’s body didn’t seem to care though. Steven made himself one final compromise. “I’ll shut my eyes, okay? But no kissing. And you can just…do what you need to do, but keep getting me off.”
“That’s my Kimmy,” Frank said. He watched Kim roll her eyes at that, before shutting them tightly. He pulled off his pants and boxers, and then stared at her sopping pussy for a few seconds.
Steven still didn’t look as Frank rubbed the tip of his dick in her juices, getting it nice and wet for entry. But Steven couldn’t stop himself from letting out a delighted squeal in Kim’s voice as Frank’s dick went in. Kim’s pussy was being filled slowly, inch by glorious inch. Kim’s eyes opened as Frank began to pump in and out of her. Steven was letting a guy fuck him. That had not been on his to do list today.
He looked down and was calmed by the sight of Kim’s tits, bobbing up and down as Frank pounding Kim’s pussy. Steven knew that Frank had clearly gotten more than a little pent up. It was okay. As long as he didn’t try to kiss him again. It was okay that he was inside this body. It felt good. So good. Impossibly good. He could do this. He could stay a girl for twenty four hours. He wondered how many orgasms a girl could have in that time. He couldn’t wait to find out.
Back in Ryan and Bailey’s room, things had moved a little more slowly. At Bailey’s insistence, Ryan had begun counting to 90, very slowly. Bailey had turned his count into a silent striptease, removing her shorts and underwear. Ryan only made it to 32, and then stood up.
“Can I touch you?” he asked in a nervous tremor.
She gave him a bigger smile than he had ever seen. “Of course. You can touch me anywhere you want.”
And that’s what he did. She giggled as he began to run nervous, shaky hands over her. He felt her soft, smooth skin that seemed to go on forever. His hands went up and down her arms, then he crouched and moved them down the side of her legs. This put her pussy directly in front of him. He saw the patch of dark blonde hair. He moved his hands to the back side of her legs, and lifted them up. When his fingers touched the underside of her butt cheeks, he hesitated.
Bailey was breathing hard as she encouraged him, “Keep going. Feel all of me. I want you to.”
He kept staring at her pussy as his fingers continued their journey. Her cheeks lifted at his touch, and then he was gripping them in his hands. Her butt was small and tight. He spread her cheeks apart, then pushed them together. He saw a trickle of moisture run down her inner thigh.
“Are you…” he started to ask. Then he brought a hand around and touched the clear fluid.
“Yeah, that’s how wet I am right now for you,” Bailey said with knees that began to shake. “I love how you’re touching me. I love how much you want me. I think I’ll need to sit down soon.”
“Of course, sure, yeah,” Ryan said. He stood and led her to the bed. They sat down, and he put a hand on her boob. And then he kissed her. They stayed like this for a minute or two. Ryan had no way of knowing because for him, time was at a standstill. Eventually, some instinct kicked in, and he began to push her down onto the bed.
“Wait,” she said.
Ryan froze, terrified that he had done something wrong.
“It’s your turn to get naked,” she whispered softly.
He sighed, and clumsily shucked off his clothes, almost falling over in the process. Then he was beside her, pushing her down. She spread her legs, letting his dick rub near her pussy entrance. He tried to push into her. His aim was off.
Bailey giggled, then reached down and took his dick into her hand. “Let me help you out there, virgin boy.”
That phrase struck Ryan hard, as Bailey’s hand guided him into her. His face mirrored a mixture of horror and delight as he felt himself slide into her depths. “Oh!” he gasped at the overwhelming sensation of being inside his crush.
“Try not to cum too fast!” she said quickly. “Think of something else if you need to.”
Ryan was already thinking of something else. The phrase virgin boy. That’s what Tabitha had called him. Had Bailey overheard her say that? She couldn’t have. Tabitha had been inside of Bailey at the time, and Bailey wouldn’t have remembered.
“That’s it,” Bailey cooed underneath him. “You’re nice and hard inside of me.This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”
Had Ryan ever told Bailey that he was a virgin? He didn’t think so. She might have assumed, but…
She wrapped her legs around him and pulled him deeper. “You have to start a rhythm. You need to go in and out, not all the way out mind you, just to the tip. And then push back into me. Slowly at first, but then you can speed up, and you want to try and go deeper. Good. Just keep doing that.”
Ryan found himself following her instruction, even as his mind wondered. She began to moan loudly underneath him. It was incredibly sexy, and Ryan did not doubt that he would have exploded in her several times already if his mind weren’t otherwise preoccupied.
“Put a hand on my tit and pinch it!” she ordered.
Ryan obliged. She leaned forward for a kiss, and he gave it. It seemed hollow though. His dick didn’t care, and as it surged towards the finish line, he asked, “So, I guess thanks for being a great wing woman.”
Her expression became confused. “What? Wing woman? Sure, whatever. Just give it to me harder!”
He did give it to her harder. He was pumping furiously now as he kept to his line of questioning. “You called yourself that earlier, a couple of times actually. You said you’d be my wing woman and help get me laid.”
Her hips were bucking under him, trying to get him deeper every time. “How am I doing so far?” she cried out.
He could feel his balls tighten, and his dick begin to pulse inside her. Even so, he looked her in the eyes, and said the obvious. “You’re not her, are you?”
The hungry smile she gave him was one he had seen before, on Tabitha. She bucked harder and faster against him as she saw he was right on the edge. Then she gave him an extra show by playing with her tits. “That’s not going to stop you from cumming inside of her, is it?”
To Ryan’s regret, it did not stop him in the slightest.
The end?
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A long time bodyhopper finds a person he can't possess.
Derek was about to have a problem. He was in the middle of class when
his lifelong crush Amy, short brown hair, soft, sweet Amy, walked in
and handed the teacher a note, then came to sit in the seat in front of
him on the right far side. He didn't miss any of her movements and she
seemed to glide towards him, her chest bouncing more than usual. He
wasn't complaining, but that was different.Right before she sat,
their eyes met. She smiled slyly, then slowly, purposefully, lowered her
gaze to her breasts, and gave them a little shake, and then laughed at
the reaction on Derek's face. That was the moment when Derek realized
Amy wasn't wearing a bra. This was way out of the norm for Amy. She was
about as straight laced and conservative as they come. She rarely dated,
and if she did, no one ever got anywhere. She was easily the most
sought after girl in his school. Derek assumed she was probably waiting
to cut loose in college as soon as she got away from her parents.College.
Right. He needed to pay attention. This was easily his worst subject
and he needed to focus up. It was his senior year and a scholarship was
his only shot at getting into college. He had turned 18 a month ago and
had decided he need to get serious about planning for his future. But
Amy's swaying breasts kept jutting into his memory, blocking out the
lesson from the teacher's mouth.If it wasn't Amy's breasts, he
was thinking about the teacher's mouth. Mrs. Darcy was discussing the
industrial revolution at the front of the classroom. She was a knockout
with bright red hair and the definition of an hour glass figure. Between
Amy and Mrs. Darcy, it was no wonder this was his worst class.He
noticed Amy's right arm move in front of him. Her shoulder was making a
circular motion. Her left had was grabbing the edge of her desk. She
had propped up her textbook on the desk in such a way to obscure her
chest from the other students and teacher. He was the only one to seem
to have noticed her strange behavior so far.Deciding he needed to
investigate further, Derek shoved his pencil off the right side of his
desk and watched as it rolled until it bumped the wall. He playfully
smacked his hand to indicate what a klutz he was, then got up to
retrieve it.He glanced to see what Amy was up to and saw, as he
was now the only one who could see over her book, that she had
unbuttoned her yellow blouse and was slowly, methodically, massaging her
exposed left breast.He stood there, frozen by what he was
seeing. The girl he fantasized about, doing something so erotic in a
classroom full of people. Then in a quick movement, she turned and
stared at him as if she had caught him peeping. Then her expression
turned into a wicked smile, and she shifted her breast so the nipple was
pointing right at him. Then she winked at him and kissed the air with
her mouth.Derek's erection was so fast, he sat down a little too
quickly and loudly, causing other students and Mrs. Darcy to look at
him. He smiled sheepishly, and the lesson continued, but Derek would not
remember a fact or date of this history lesson. He just continued to
stare at the back of Amy's head, replaying that erotic moment in his
head over and over.He watched as both of her hands started deftly
moving and assumed she must be buttoning up as class was about over. He
must have been right because a moment later, she laid the book flat on
her desk. Then he saw something weirder than he had seen thus far. Her
entire body shuddered, just for a moment. It was like her body had
jumped into cold water and she had experienced a frigid chill. Then as
suddenly as it had started, it stopped, and Amy was still.Derek
was even more confused. Plenty was amiss, but this was another out of
the ordinary piece of behavior. They were inside, it was warm, not a bit
drafty. Why had she shivered like that? And then the bell rang. Amy
spun around in her seat and looked at Derek as if he were a hearty meal."I
hope you enjoyed the show. She knows you look at her all the time." Amy
said matter of factly. "But don't worry, I won't let your hard on go to
waste. I'll just be taking charge of it for a while." And with that she
touched his cheek with his hand. He felt a tiny jolt ripple through his
face, and then... nothing.If Derek was confused, it was nothing
compared to the look on Amy's face. She withdrew her hand from his face,
then touched his nose, then his arm, then his hand, each time furrowing
her brow and getting more and more frustrated. "What is going on?" she
exclaimed."Is something the matter?" Mrs. Darcy called from the front of the room as the last of the students filed out the door."Yes
something's the matter!" said Amy impatiently. "This works every time!
Every time!" Amy grabbed Derek by the arm one last time and waited. When
nothing happened, she narrowed her eyes, looked at him closely, then
got up and walked towards the front of the classroom, straight towards
Mrs. Darcy.Mrs. Darcy calmly asked, "Could you please tell me the nature of your problem Ms. Fairchild?""It'll just be faster if I show you," Amy said coldly. And then she reached out and touched Mrs. Darcy on the shoulder.Derek
watched, fascinated and utterly confused by everything going on. He
watched as, for a moment, Mrs. Darcy looked at Amy with great concern on
her face, and then for only a moment more, Mrs. Darcy's body gave a
little shudder. Mrs. Darcy looked at Derek immediately and said, "Mr.
Johnson, please see me before you go to your next class.""Um,
okay." Derek muttered. He continued to look from Mrs. Darcy to Amy. Amy
was just standing there, looking dazed, like she was in the middle of
waking up. She looked like she was trying to focus on her surroundings,
trying to get her bearings. When she spotted Derek, she licked her lips
and her eyes filled with lust."You may go to your next class now Ms. Fairchild," Mrs. Darcy ordered.Amy
slowly turned to face Mrs. Darcy, and then, as if she was trying to
figure out a very complex math equation while still sleeping, she said,
"Okay... " and then headed out the door.Mrs. Darcy seemed to
relax, leaned back a bit in her chair and began unbuttoning the top two
buttons on her blouse. "Why does know one at this school show a decent
amount of cleavage?" Mrs. Darcy mused. "But much more importantly? Who
are you Derek?"Derek's mind was whirring as fast as it could but
half of it was now consumed with the breast's that were starting to
spill out of Mrs. Darcy's top. "I, um... What? Wait, did Amy seem to be
acting weird? I mean, you're also, um.. "Mrs. Darcy frowned.
"Focus up Derek. She'll be fine. She should be back to her boring
uptight self in a few minutes. And she'll probably only think about your
cock for the next hour. I wasn't inside her that long. Back to the
original question. Who are you?""I.. You know who I am!" Derek managed to get out. "What do you mean she'll want my, my.. ""Cock, Derek. It's not a bad word. And I'd like to see yours but first I must have answers!"Derek
shook his head and said incredulously, "You need answers? I've been
clueless ever since Amy walked in today as to what is going on? What are
you even talking about?"Mrs. Darcy's eyes seemed to bore into
his soul. "You have to know what I'm talking about," she snarled. "I
can't possess you. I always assumed if I met someone like me, we
wouldn't be able to possess each other."The pieces started to
click for Derek, but he struggled to believe what he was hearing.
"Possess? You, you were Amy during class?" he asked.Mrs. Darcy
sighed. "You've known her since you were little. You have always acted
like you were intimidated by her and she has never once seen you in a
romantic light because of it. Do you think she'd just all of a sudden
flash you her boob out of boredom?""How do you know that about her?" Derek asked."Because
I was her," Mrs. Darcy explained. "I mean to say, I didn't just inhabit
her body. I had access to her memories, her mannerisms, everything that
makes her the Amy you're infatuated with, I had access to. But... you
really don't know all this? You can't possess? Or you can, you've just
never tried?"Mrs. Darcy had casually begun massaging her breasts
with both hands, almost but not quite letting her nipples become
exposed. Derek was trying to keep up, but this did not help. "Okay, so, I
accept this isn't a prank.Mrs. Darcy smirked. "Because your hot
teacher is fondling herself in front of you? Tell you what. You tell me
why I can't possess you and I'll let you suck on her tits. I'll even
role play for you. That's one of my favorite things to do. But first,
Mr. Johnson, answer my questions.""We can't do that! "Derek almost yelled. "What about the next class coming in?"Derek
watched as Mrs. Darcy's eyes rolled to the upper left side and she
pursed her lips, thinking. "That won't be a problem," she said
confidently. "This is her free period. So what do you say?" She
unbuttoned another button and pulled her left breast out of her top.
"Will you let Mrs. Darcy tutor you? I know you've been struggling in my
class. Just answer my questions and I'll tutor you so good." She then
slid a hand down her skirt and started moaning while her other hand
pinched her nipple.Derek paused. His hormones were raging, but
this seemed.. dangerous. "I'd feel better if you'd tell me something
about you first, like who are you?"Mrs. Darcy stopped. Her eyes
narrowed. "Well that's the problem. I'm a very private person who has
always been able to know what I want to know by possessing someone. I
can see all their memories laid out like a book. I've been able to fool
everyone around me, and if, if I messed up, I can make people forget by
possessing them too. That way I've been able to be careful and go
completely undetected, until now. I can't possess you and I can't make
you forget, and that's a huge problem for me.""Make me forget?" Derek said worriedly.Mrs.
Darcy got to her feet and stood over him and acted as if teaching. "No
one remembers what I made them do while I was possessing them. To them,
it seems to be like a blank spot that they can almost but not quite
remember. What does happen though is, right after I leave them, they
have some residual thoughts and emotions left over from my thoughts and
actions when I was in control. It's why Amy wanted you right after,
because I did. And everyone in that state is very suggestible for a tiny
bit. I can tell them what to do for a little while or tell them what
happened during their memory lapse, and they'll do or believe whatever I
say."Derek was shocked. "That seems like an incredible abuse of power."Mrs.
Darcy undid her blouse and let it fall to the floor, all while staring
directly into Derek's widening eyes. Then she slowly pulled down the
pink panties she had on underneath. Then she walked purposefully over to
Derek's chair, shoved the desk in front of him aside, and straddled
him. "Oh, it is," she demurred. "I've been presidents. Kings.
Celebrities. But it all gets old so fast. I'd much rather be just a
married school teacher who is sitting on a student who is starting to
show a lot of promise in the boner department."She started
grinding against his crotch and leaned into his ear so that her hot
breath left goose bumps down his spine. "Tomorrow's panties would have
been much sexier. Tomorrow is Saturday and I always wear something sexy
for my husband since I know he'll fuck my brains out before noon. Could I
pretend you're my husband right now? Just answer my question first,"
she purred."I, I'm just me," Derek said, struggling to
concentrate as Mrs. Darcy rubbed harder and harder against him. He was
still a virgin and would not be able to last much longer without leaving
a mess on his jeans. "You know me. You can access Mrs. Darcy's memories
about me, can't you?"Mrs. Darcy took off her top and shoved both
tits into Derek's face. "Of course. But all she knows about you is that
you're a bright boy that could be doing better in her class if you'd
just focus on the subject matter instead of her sexy mouth and titties.
Not that I mind at the moment. But I don't know what I want to know and
this is your last chance to tell me. Just tell me and maybe we can be
friends. Don't, and I will make your life a living hell."Derek
was close to orgasm, but the threat scared him enough to rally. He
shoved her off and Mrs. Darcy landed on the floor, hard. "Don't threaten
me! I told you, I'm just me. Just a normal guy trying to finish high
school and get out of this town."Mrs. Darcy glared at him from
the floor. When she spoke next, it was not with Mrs. Darcy's voice, but
the deep voice of a man. "Fine kid. Play dumb. Maybe I just find out
from your best friend. Or a family member. Getting the information out
of them should be easy, and a lot of fun."Mrs. Darcy got to her
feet and started dressing, and continued to speak in that same low
voice. "It's funny. I've been bouncing all over this school, possessing
different people here and there. Getting off where I could and causing a
little drama. It's the only thing that keeps me going since I don't
have my own body anymore. And I was just about to move on, today in
fact, but now, I'll be sticking around. Thanks for livening up my... "The
words were cut off and for the third time today, Derek watched a person
in front of him shudder for a second from head to toe. Something
clicked in Derek's brain. "That shudder thing I saw Amy do, her whole
body just shook for a moment like she had caught a chill, then you did
it when she touched you at the end of class. That's when you took over
Mrs. Darcy. A person shudders when you... jump in or whatever and then..
I'm guessing it's something that happens every so often.Mrs.
Darcy now looked very annoyed. "Yeah, there's that intelligence this
chick knows you have. It's about the only involuntary reaction I have.
My tell as it were. And yes, it happens when I take over someone, or
when I need to reassert control of my host."Derek nodded along,
then said, "I'm sorry. It's so weird to hear a strange man's voice come
out of Mrs. Darcy's mouth. Could you maybe, speak like her again?"Mrs.
Darcy finished buttoning her top and bellowed, "I'll talk how I damn
well please kid! You have no idea how long it's been since I was able to
use my real voice to talk to someone. I've been at this a long time. A
very long time.""How long till you have to reassert control of someone?" Derek asked."Everyone's
a little different, but the longer I'm in someone, the less it happens,
and the more and more I can change their personality."Now it was Derek's turn to shudder. "You can... rewrite someone?"Mrs. Darcy grinned coolly. "Sort of. But you'll see soon enough."Then
she walked to the door and held it open. Then in Mrs. Darcy's voice,
she declared loudly, "Just follow that lesson plan and that should get
you caught up. If you still need help, well," she put on a flirty smile.
"I'm sure I'll be seeing you real soon. Here's a note so you won't be
counted tardy for your next class.""Really? You think I'm worrying about a tardy?" Derek wondered aloud as he stepped into the empty school hallway."Appearances
are everything Mr. Johnson. Like I said, I'm careful. Now if you'll
excuse me, I'd like to make the most out of this free period." And with
that Mrs. Darcy closed and locked the door of her classroom.Derek
floated through his remaining classes for the day in a state of
paranoia. He really didn't know why he would be so important to Mrs.
Darcy, or Amy, or, really, this mystery man that had somehow inhabited
their bodies. It was like something out of a cheap science fiction film.
Was he safe from him, or her, whoever? Would he see her again as Mrs.
Darcy, or someone else next time? Maybe someone closer to him? He had to
tell someone, but who on earth would believe him. Maybe he should do
nothing and wait to see if it would blow over. He doubted it, but didn't
see any other choice.When the last bell rang, he figured he'd
make a beeline for home and so he could keep a close eye on his family.
He knew his parents were okay because they would still be at work, and
his twin sister had been sick. He wasn't sure they were in danger, but
he didn't know what to think, and that was the worst part. Nothing had
happened since history class, and he was hopeful nothing else would.As
he exited the school, Derek took a second to look around. Students
milling about, talking laughing, waiting for a ride. He noticed his
neighbor, Jessica. She was in his grade, also 18, and currently sporting
her cheerleader outfit. Her long, blonde hair was tied up in a long
ponytail and she was standing on her tiptoes as she kissed her
boyfriend, Brad, the star quarterback . Both were just a few feet away
from him.As their lips detached, he overheard Jessica say, "I
told you, I can't stay to watch you practice today. The squad is already
mad at me but they understand. Nana is not doing well and so my parents
are taking us to see her in the hospital.""Then why are you wearing your cheerleader outfit?" Brad asked as his eyes and hands raked across her figure."Down boy," she giggled. "I wore it just so you could see me in it before I said goodbye.""Well,
goodbye," and Brad leaned in and they were joined at the mouth again.
Derek was almost past them, when Jessica detached herself from Brad and
grabbed Derek's arm. "You'll walk me home, won't you Derek? Brad can't
be late for football practice."Derek eyed her warily. "We haven't walked home together in years?"Jessica shrugged. "I know. I miss those days, don't you?""Not really."She
playfully punched his arm. "Rude much." She laughed. "C'mon, you can
fill me in on your latest college prospects. Don't tell me you're still
thinking about taking a year off?"Derek looked at her intently.
"No, no I decided against that. I guess, let's just go, I gotta get
home?" He started walking away from her."Okay," she gave an
apologetic wave to her boyfriend and ran to catch up. She jogged up to
him and they had walked a couple blocks before she asked, "What's got
you in such a hurry today? Hot date tonight?"He kept glancing at her, as if he were looking for something. "No. I just, need to get home is all. It's been a weird day.""How so?" she asked casually."I don't want to talk about it," he replied sharply. They were now a block away from their houses. He just wanted to get there.She
gingerly grabbed his arm and pulled him to a stop. "Hey," she said, and
there was compassion in her voice. "We used to talk about anything and
everything. I opened up to you all the time when my parents were
fighting and it really helped. If something's bothering you, I want to
hear it."Derek's armor was starting to crack. "I mean, I would like to talk about it. But, you have to go see your grandma.""It's
okay," and her eyes went up and to the left. "My parents won't be here
for another 20 or so minutes, so come inside real quick and tell me
what's on your mind."Reluctantly, Derek stopped outside her house, then said, "Okay.""Yay,"
she squealed and started fishing out her house keys. "C'mon in. Gosh,
it's been awhile since you were inside. Mom painted again as you can
see."Derek nodded before diving in with, "Yeah, look, I'll make this short and I know you're not going to believe me but.. ""Hold
that thought," Jessica interrupted. "I need to change so I can be ready
when my parents get here. Follow me upstairs and you can tell me
there?""While you're changing!" Derek exclaimed.Jessica
eyed him wryly. "No you pervert. You'll be outside my bedroom, and I'll
be on the inside, and there will be a door between us. I'll be able to
hear you just fine." She hit his arm again as if playing tag, then
bounded up the stairs ahead of him. Derek turned to follow, but when he
looked up he was temporarily distracted by a vision of bright orange
panties at the top of the stairs."You coming?" she asked as she looked back,
and then realized the view she had just given him and pulled her skirt
down in embarrassment."Ooh," she murmured, blushing. "Can we just pretend that didn't happen?""Nope," he said with a wide smile, the first he could remember today. "It's locked in my brain forever.""Pervert,"
she said again rolling her eyes and smiling. She went into her bedroom,
shutting the door almost but not quite all the way. "So, what's going
on?""Well," he didn't really know how to begin, "I guess it started when Amy came in to history class.. ""What?" Jessica yelled. "Come closer. I can't hear you."Derek moved closer towards the crack in the door. "I said, it started when Amy.. "Then
Derek noticed the crack in the door in front of him. It gave him a
direct line of sight to her closet doors, one of which had a full length
mirror. That door had been opened in such a way as to give him a
perfect view of Jessica's reflection next to her dresser, just behind
the door he was standing in front of. She was just starting to pull off
her cheerleader top and he was suddenly captivated by the two D size
orbs on her chest which strained at her flowery bra. "I should've
known it would have something to do with the girl you've had a crush on
since middle school," she said, as her thumbs hooked her cheerleader
skirt and he got an even better view of her orange panties. He
watched, speechless as she started rummaging through her dresser. Her
perfect ass was now turned towards the mirror as she bent to the lowest
drawer to look for a top, when he saw it. A shudder. If he hadn't been
transfixed on her, he might have missed it. Jessica stood up
straight, and turned to the mirror, making eye contact with Derek. "Oh
poo," she pouted. "You saw that didn't you?"She reached behind
her back and unhooked her bra, letting it fall to the floor. "You were
watching so closely, weren't you," she said seductively. "You were just
being a good neighbor, weren't you?" In one quick movement, she pulled
off her panties, and then opened the door. One hand went to his cheek,
while the other went to his rock hard crotch. "Tell me something,
Derek," she pressed her naked body against him, "why did we never get
together? I mean, I'm the girl next door after all.""Why are you doing this?" Derek demanded, taking a step back. "Because
of that right there," the deep man's voice was back. "I'm used to being
in control of each and every situation, and I can't control you. Can't
make you forget, and I'm going to find out why. I found out where you
lived easy enough with Mrs. Darcy's access to student's files. Then
hopped a few more people till I found someone who lived close to you.
Someone who's known you for awhile and might have a clue to this mystery
for me.""It's just wrong," Derek grumbled, while trying not to keep staring at Jessica's marvelous chest. Jessica
took a step towards him. "No, what's wrong is that this fine piece of
ass had the hots for you a couple years ago and you never made a move.
Other than that there were no useful memories.""I was dating someone a couple years ago," Jake defended. Jessica's
eyes went up and to the left. "Heather. Yeah, okay, she was pretty hot
too. But you weren't married." The voice then switched over to Jessica's
seamlessly. "You could have had us both." And she lunged for him,
wrapping her body around him and kissing him on the mouth. Derek
momentarily kissed back. It was what his body wanted. Really wanted. He
felt like he had had blue balls since history class. But.. he ended the
kiss and gently pushed her back. " You're not Jessica!" he snapped.
"This isn't what she'd want.""But I am, and it is, at least for
now," she smiled demurely. "I'm willing to put my question on hold for a
bit. I need some release."She was about to pounce again when
they heard the door slam. Panic shot through Derek's eyes as he realized
he was standing in front of Mr. and Mrs. Roberts daughter. Mr. Roberts
liked him, but would still probably kill him anyway in this
circumstance. "I figured you were lying about her parents coming home,"
Derek whispered. "I was and I wasn't," Jessica said quietly as
she stepped inside her room and put on a bathrobe. "That should be my
mom. Remember a few years back when you told me you had a sex dream
about her and I said it was totally gross.""I.. Man I hate how you can just tap into her memories like that," Derek said, anticipating the worst. "Aw, you're so nervous, it's cute." Jessica gestured towards her room. "Go hide in the closet. I'll take care of 'mom."As
Derek walked into Jessica's room and crammed himself into her closet,
Jessica yelled, "Mom, can you help me with something real quick?"From
downstairs, Derek heard Mrs. Roberts yell back, "Jessica? What are you
doing home? Shouldn't you be at cheerleader practice?" He then heard
her footsteps on the stairs. He watched through the slats in the
closet as "Jessica" walked into her room. Now he started to sweat. He
didn't know how this was going to play out, but it couldn't be good. "Jessica?" her mother called out. "In here mom," Derek saw Jessica say, and then she turned and winked at him, knowing he was watching through the closet slats.Derek
saw as Mrs. Roberts entered her daughter's room. She had apparently
been out for a light jog. She had on tight black running shorts and a
tight purple top. Her blonde hair was in a ponytail just like her
daughter. They looked very much alike. Mrs. Roberts had certainly aged
well and had certainly kept her figure and was probably in her late
forties but looked like a woman in her thirties. Derek didn't tell
Jessica that there had been more than one sex dream about her mother. "Mom,
I was wondering if you'd act out a little scene with me," Jessica
started. "You see, I never have an audience. Sure, I've had some fun
before, but I was the only one who could enjoy it. It was just for me.
Would you help me?""I, sure honey," Mrs. Roberts hesitated, "but what are you talking... "Jessica
touched her mom. Mrs. Roberts shuddered, then her face slowly turned,
as she aimed the most seductive grin at Derek in the closet. Jessica
didn't fall to the floor, but continued to stand there, her eyes
slightly glazed over. Mrs. Roberts turned to face her daughter
and said in a concerned mother's tone, but with a hint of lust, "Yes,
Jessica dear. I'll help in any way I can." She touched her daughter. Jessica shuddered, took her mother's hand and said, "Well, there's this boy see, and I think he likes me."Shudder. Mrs.
Roberts resumed speaking, "How could he not like you dear. I mean, look
at these spectacular breasts you have." Mrs. Roberts pulled her
daughter's robe apart, and then pushed it off her shoulders, letting it
hit the floor. She then reached out and started groping her daughter's
chest. Shudder. Mrs. Roberts continued to squeeze her
daughter's breasts, but it was Jessica who said, "Well, I have you to
thank for that Momma. I mean, just look at yours." Jessica pulled her
mother's top over her head, and then helped remove her sports bra that
was underneath. "They're even bigger than mine!" Jessica proclaimed as
if seeing them for the first time. Then she bent over and started
kissing her mother's breasts. Derek felt his eyes try to jump out
of his sockets as he took in Mrs. Roberts' massive tits. They were
nearly identical to her daughter's, just a little bigger, and a little
saggier. His eyes kept trying to jump out as Mrs. Roberts continued
groping her daughter's chest, while Jessica kissed her mother's tits.
Derek noted that the formerly possessed would continue to actions of the
possessor even when he had jumped into his next victim. Shudder. "Oh Jessica dear," Mrs. Roberts moaned. "I hope he's as good at foreplay as you are?"Shudder. "That's
the problem Momma," Jessica pouted as she looked up from her mother's
tits. "There hasn't been any foreplay yet. We haven't even kissed, and
I'm just so nervous I'll do it wrong."Shudder. Mrs.
Roberts put her hand under her chin and brought up her daughter's pretty
face. She then looked into her glassy eyed daughter's eyes. "I'd be
happy to give you a lesson in kissing."Derek's jaw was on the
floor as he watched mother and daughter shudder again and again, a new
one taking the lead each time as their mouths met and they started to
embrace and let their hands roam over each other. This went on for a few
minutes, Derek completely swept along by what was easily the most
erotic thing he'd ever seen. His heart raced as he saw Jessica remove
her mother's running shorts and give her mom's ass a playful smack, then
resume their makeout session. Finally Mrs. Roberts broke from a
prolonged, sloppy kiss and said breathily, "Yes. Kiss him like that and
he'll have the hardest dick you've ever seen."Shudder. "Oh Momma, you think so? Could we test it right now?" And Jessica hopped up and down with feigned excitement. Shudder. "What do you mean dear daughter?" Mrs. Roberts asked as if clueless.Shudder. "Well
Momma, I'm pretty sure he's been staring at us from inside my closet
this whole time," and Jessica blew a kiss at the closet.Shudder. Derek
knew this was being staged, but it was hard not to get swept up in the
moment as his hot, naked classmate's mother walked over and slid the
closet door open and looked at Derek with mock outrage on her face. "Derek!
You naughty boy! All this time you were in my daughter's closet,
watching us kiss and groping one another?" Mrs. Roberts said
accusingly. "Hey," Derek said somewhat amused and a lot horny, "You would know, you put me in here."Mrs.
Roberts covered her hand with her face, "How dare you? I would never do
something so scandalous. I'll have to ask you to leave." Mrs. Roberts
reached over and tagged her daughter who hadn't moved. Shudder. "But
Momma, I'd like to practice more, and he's right here," Jessica pulled
Derek out of the closet and started taking off his jeans. When she
pulled off his underwear, she looked at her mother and stated, "And it
looks like he's got that nice hard dick you were talking about." When
Jessica had Derek as naked as she was, she stood and tapped her mom's
shoulder. Shudder. "Well, I do want to be a good mother,
and a good neighbor." Mrs. Roberts eyed Derek with pure carnal desire,
then started removing his shirt. She then led him to Jessica's queen
sized bed. "Having fun so far Derek? Enjoying my little play?""Y-yes, ma'am" he admitted. He couldn't stop this now if he wanted to."Good,"
Mrs. Roberts smiled, shoving him down on the mattress. "And please,
call me Mrs. Roberts like you always have. Now watch this. Jessica."
Jessica was still standing in the place where she had taken off Derek's
pants, but now she turned and faced her mother. "Come over here and put
those perky tits in our neighbor boy's face while I start sucking his
dick."Derek watched in amazement as Jessica obediently came over
and clumsily placed her large breasts in his face. Derek wasn't sure if
it was Mrs. Roberts who was fantastic at blowjobs, or her possessor, but
either way he came in seconds. He watched as Mrs. Roberts swallowed,
then tapped her daughter.Shudder. "Oh, now that just won't
do Derek." Jessica circled her right breast with her hand before
squeezing it and guiding the nipple into his mouth. "Momma, please keep
stroking his cock until he gets hard again. She looked at him with an
innocent, questioning face. "Or maybe you'd like us to make out some
more? Or you could watch as my mom ate out my pussy?"And just
like that Derek was ready to go again. This time he grabbed Jessica and
kissed her. She returned his kiss then broke for air to say, "Momma,
play with this boy's balls while I ride his dick." And then Jessica
mounted him and rode him for all he was worth. He watched as she came
multiple times and was about to himself, when she expertly rolled off
him and slapped her mother's ass hard causing the firm flesh to jiggle
slightly. Shudder. "Sorry," said Mrs. Roberts
apologetically, climbing on top of him. "I like to have multiple orgasms
in multiple bodies when I can." And then she started to ride him, nice
and slow, squeezing her breasts and moaning like a porn star, achieving
orgasm in just a few minutes. "Older ladies bodies must be a lot
more sensitive," Derek thought to himself as he came for the second
time. Mrs. Roberts dismounted and they both lay there a few moments with
Jessica standing with a vacant expression inches away. Then an
uncharacteristically low voice came out of Mrs. Roberts mouth. "Sorry
neighbor boy. That was fun but I can never bask in the afterglow when
I've had two at once." Then Mrs. Roberts got up and started to put
herself back together. Derek sat up and started getting dressed himself. "You've done that before!""A
few times," the deep voice said. "It's not always worth it to me
because I have to move quick before one of them comes to their senses,
and there's a slight buffer in sensation when I'm hopping so quickly.
But like I said, I ain't never had an audience before, and that made it
really hot.""It was hot," Derek agreed. "The hottest thing ever.
But you know what's not hot? Hearing your voice coming out of Mrs.
Roberts' mouth."Mrs. Roberts frowned, then walked over and touched her daughter. Shudder. Jessica's
peppy voice burst out of her mouth indignantly, "I'm sorry. You only
like it when I 'pretend' to be the person I'm possessing, is that it?""I'm
sorry, no, it's just a lot to get used to," Derek tried to say coolly.
"It just, makes me feel like I just slept with a man is all.""I
was a man!" said the male voice indignantly. Jessica started to put her
clothes back on but it was the low voice that continued. "That's what I
started out as anyways. But when my situation happened years ago, I
could become whatever gender I wanted on the fly. I haven't used my
original voice in decades, mainly because I like fooling everyone around
me into thinking I'm the person I'm possessing. It's my biggest kink
really.""It feels like I should call you another name when you
use that voice, or if we meet again and you're in some other body,"
Derek offered, trying to be helpful. "Ha! Sure kid. You can call me Nevyn when and if you figure me out again. Like I said, you not knowing is my biggest turn on."And
with that Nevyn looked at Mrs. Roberts and switched back to Jessica's
voice. "Mom, go use the restroom, then lay down in your bed. When you
come around you'll remember taking a nap after you went for a run and
nothing else." Mrs. Roberts walked out of the room. "That's all you have to do?" Derek said in disbelief. "Yeah,"
Nevyn shrugged, talking like his original male self again. "It's pretty
easy. As long as I've possessed someone recently, they're in that
obedient and suggestible window like you saw with me and 'mom.' If I
miss the window at all, I just possess that person, making them forget,
and it's all fixed. Which brings us back to business. We've had our fun.
I put on a good show for you. Now why can't I possess you?" She/he
poked Derek in the chest. "Look, I honestly don't know. If I knew I would tell you."Nevyn studied him a moment. "I think I believe you, but I'm not through investigating."Derek smiled a little. "You gonna go dust for some clues? Interview some witnesses?"He
watched Jessica's mouth curved wickedly and resume her girlish voice.
"Witnesses. Yes. That's exactly what I'm going to do. Find more
witnesses. Examine more memories. Find out from the people who know you
best and for the longest."The smile was gone from Derek's face. "What do you mean? You're not talking about.. ""Your family of course," Jessica said with laughter in her voice. "No!" Derek growled. "Oh,
I'm sorry," Jessica's voice was still playful, but with a bite. "I
don't like being told what to do. But I do take requests. Usually I just
find out what people want by taking them over. But since I can't do
that with you, you'll have to tell me.""I don't want you to do it at all," Derek barked. Jessica
looked at him as if he were being a disobedient child. "Now now, I
haven't given you the options. I can hop in with you knowing full well
I'm there. Finding out what I want to know from each of your family
members. Maybe we act out a little incest fantasy, your mom and sister
are both very attractive. That's not just my assessment by the way, my
'mom' thinks so too.""Why you," Derek started to shout. "Or,"
Jessica interrupted, "I can sneak in. I can disguise myself from you
and act like your family members completely. Until I get bored and start
to mess with you.""Or until I see your tell!" Derek countered. "But you won't get them. I won't let you."Jessica
put both her hands on his face. "Derek sweetie. Are you going to lock
them up in your house? If you can't, I can come at them a million
different ways."She leaned in and kissed him forcibly, then shoved him
away. "Now get out of here. My 'mom' will be waking up from her nap any
minute." Jessica waved him towards the stairs, then Derek saw the
familiar eye movement that meant Nevyn was accessing her memories. "And
my daddy will be home any second, so beat it."Derek looked at
her/him with loathing. He tried to disassociate her from Nevyn who was
inside, but it was difficult. When he was downstairs and starting to
open the front door, he heard Jessica call, "Derek, I'll be seeing you
real soon."To be continued...
Derek was about to have a problem. He was in the middle of class when
his lifelong crush Amy, short brown hair, soft, sweet Amy, walked in
and handed the teacher a note, then came to sit in the seat in front of
him on the right far side. He didn't miss any of her movements and she
seemed to glide towards him, her chest bouncing more than usual. He
wasn't complaining, but that was different.Right before she sat,
their eyes met. She smiled slyly, then slowly, purposefully, lowered her
gaze to her breasts, and gave them a little shake, and then laughed at
the reaction on Derek's face. That was the moment when Derek realized
Amy wasn't wearing a bra. This was way out of the norm for Amy. She was
about as straight laced and conservative as they come. She rarely dated,
and if she did, no one ever got anywhere. She was easily the most
sought after girl in his school. Derek assumed she was probably waiting
to cut loose in college as soon as she got away from her parents.College.
Right. He needed to pay attention. This was easily his worst subject
and he needed to focus up. It was his senior year and a scholarship was
his only shot at getting into college. He had turned 18 a month ago and
had decided he need to get serious about planning for his future. But
Amy's swaying breasts kept jutting into his memory, blocking out the
lesson from the teacher's mouth.If it wasn't Amy's breasts, he
was thinking about the teacher's mouth. Mrs. Darcy was discussing the
industrial revolution at the front of the classroom. She was a knockout
with bright red hair and the definition of an hour glass figure. Between
Amy and Mrs. Darcy, it was no wonder this was his worst class.He
noticed Amy's right arm move in front of him. Her shoulder was making a
circular motion. Her left had was grabbing the edge of her desk. She
had propped up her textbook on the desk in such a way to obscure her
chest from the other students and teacher. He was the only one to seem
to have noticed her strange behavior so far.Deciding he needed to
investigate further, Derek shoved his pencil off the right side of his
desk and watched as it rolled until it bumped the wall. He playfully
smacked his hand to indicate what a klutz he was, then got up to
retrieve it.He glanced to see what Amy was up to and saw, as he
was now the only one who could see over her book, that she had
unbuttoned her yellow blouse and was slowly, methodically, massaging her
exposed left breast.He stood there, frozen by what he was
seeing. The girl he fantasized about, doing something so erotic in a
classroom full of people. Then in a quick movement, she turned and
stared at him as if she had caught him peeping. Then her expression
turned into a wicked smile, and she shifted her breast so the nipple was
pointing right at him. Then she winked at him and kissed the air with
her mouth.Derek's erection was so fast, he sat down a little too
quickly and loudly, causing other students and Mrs. Darcy to look at
him. He smiled sheepishly, and the lesson continued, but Derek would not
remember a fact or date of this history lesson. He just continued to
stare at the back of Amy's head, replaying that erotic moment in his
head over and over.He watched as both of her hands started deftly
moving and assumed she must be buttoning up as class was about over. He
must have been right because a moment later, she laid the book flat on
her desk. Then he saw something weirder than he had seen thus far. Her
entire body shuddered, just for a moment. It was like her body had
jumped into cold water and she had experienced a frigid chill. Then as
suddenly as it had started, it stopped, and Amy was still.Derek
was even more confused. Plenty was amiss, but this was another out of
the ordinary piece of behavior. They were inside, it was warm, not a bit
drafty. Why had she shivered like that? And then the bell rang. Amy
spun around in her seat and looked at Derek as if he were a hearty meal."I
hope you enjoyed the show. She knows you look at her all the time." Amy
said matter of factly. "But don't worry, I won't let your hard on go to
waste. I'll just be taking charge of it for a while." And with that she
touched his cheek with his hand. He felt a tiny jolt ripple through his
face, and then... nothing.If Derek was confused, it was nothing
compared to the look on Amy's face. She withdrew her hand from his face,
then touched his nose, then his arm, then his hand, each time furrowing
her brow and getting more and more frustrated. "What is going on?" she
exclaimed."Is something the matter?" Mrs. Darcy called from the front of the room as the last of the students filed out the door."Yes
something's the matter!" said Amy impatiently. "This works every time!
Every time!" Amy grabbed Derek by the arm one last time and waited. When
nothing happened, she narrowed her eyes, looked at him closely, then
got up and walked towards the front of the classroom, straight towards
Mrs. Darcy.Mrs. Darcy calmly asked, "Could you please tell me the nature of your problem Ms. Fairchild?""It'll just be faster if I show you," Amy said coldly. And then she reached out and touched Mrs. Darcy on the shoulder.Derek
watched, fascinated and utterly confused by everything going on. He
watched as, for a moment, Mrs. Darcy looked at Amy with great concern on
her face, and then for only a moment more, Mrs. Darcy's body gave a
little shudder. Mrs. Darcy looked at Derek immediately and said, "Mr.
Johnson, please see me before you go to your next class.""Um,
okay." Derek muttered. He continued to look from Mrs. Darcy to Amy. Amy
was just standing there, looking dazed, like she was in the middle of
waking up. She looked like she was trying to focus on her surroundings,
trying to get her bearings. When she spotted Derek, she licked her lips
and her eyes filled with lust."You may go to your next class now Ms. Fairchild," Mrs. Darcy ordered.Amy
slowly turned to face Mrs. Darcy, and then, as if she was trying to
figure out a very complex math equation while still sleeping, she said,
"Okay... " and then headed out the door.Mrs. Darcy seemed to
relax, leaned back a bit in her chair and began unbuttoning the top two
buttons on her blouse. "Why does know one at this school show a decent
amount of cleavage?" Mrs. Darcy mused. "But much more importantly? Who
are you Derek?"Derek's mind was whirring as fast as it could but
half of it was now consumed with the breast's that were starting to
spill out of Mrs. Darcy's top. "I, um... What? Wait, did Amy seem to be
acting weird? I mean, you're also, um.. "Mrs. Darcy frowned.
"Focus up Derek. She'll be fine. She should be back to her boring
uptight self in a few minutes. And she'll probably only think about your
cock for the next hour. I wasn't inside her that long. Back to the
original question. Who are you?""I.. You know who I am!" Derek managed to get out. "What do you mean she'll want my, my.. ""Cock, Derek. It's not a bad word. And I'd like to see yours but first I must have answers!"Derek
shook his head and said incredulously, "You need answers? I've been
clueless ever since Amy walked in today as to what is going on? What are
you even talking about?"Mrs. Darcy's eyes seemed to bore into
his soul. "You have to know what I'm talking about," she snarled. "I
can't possess you. I always assumed if I met someone like me, we
wouldn't be able to possess each other."The pieces started to
click for Derek, but he struggled to believe what he was hearing.
"Possess? You, you were Amy during class?" he asked.Mrs. Darcy
sighed. "You've known her since you were little. You have always acted
like you were intimidated by her and she has never once seen you in a
romantic light because of it. Do you think she'd just all of a sudden
flash you her boob out of boredom?""How do you know that about her?" Derek asked."Because
I was her," Mrs. Darcy explained. "I mean to say, I didn't just inhabit
her body. I had access to her memories, her mannerisms, everything that
makes her the Amy you're infatuated with, I had access to. But... you
really don't know all this? You can't possess? Or you can, you've just
never tried?"Mrs. Darcy had casually begun massaging her breasts
with both hands, almost but not quite letting her nipples become
exposed. Derek was trying to keep up, but this did not help. "Okay, so, I
accept this isn't a prank.Mrs. Darcy smirked. "Because your hot
teacher is fondling herself in front of you? Tell you what. You tell me
why I can't possess you and I'll let you suck on her tits. I'll even
role play for you. That's one of my favorite things to do. But first,
Mr. Johnson, answer my questions.""We can't do that! "Derek almost yelled. "What about the next class coming in?"Derek
watched as Mrs. Darcy's eyes rolled to the upper left side and she
pursed her lips, thinking. "That won't be a problem," she said
confidently. "This is her free period. So what do you say?" She
unbuttoned another button and pulled her left breast out of her top.
"Will you let Mrs. Darcy tutor you? I know you've been struggling in my
class. Just answer my questions and I'll tutor you so good." She then
slid a hand down her skirt and started moaning while her other hand
pinched her nipple.Derek paused. His hormones were raging, but
this seemed.. dangerous. "I'd feel better if you'd tell me something
about you first, like who are you?"Mrs. Darcy stopped. Her eyes
narrowed. "Well that's the problem. I'm a very private person who has
always been able to know what I want to know by possessing someone. I
can see all their memories laid out like a book. I've been able to fool
everyone around me, and if, if I messed up, I can make people forget by
possessing them too. That way I've been able to be careful and go
completely undetected, until now. I can't possess you and I can't make
you forget, and that's a huge problem for me.""Make me forget?" Derek said worriedly.Mrs.
Darcy got to her feet and stood over him and acted as if teaching. "No
one remembers what I made them do while I was possessing them. To them,
it seems to be like a blank spot that they can almost but not quite
remember. What does happen though is, right after I leave them, they
have some residual thoughts and emotions left over from my thoughts and
actions when I was in control. It's why Amy wanted you right after,
because I did. And everyone in that state is very suggestible for a tiny
bit. I can tell them what to do for a little while or tell them what
happened during their memory lapse, and they'll do or believe whatever I
say."Derek was shocked. "That seems like an incredible abuse of power."Mrs.
Darcy undid her blouse and let it fall to the floor, all while staring
directly into Derek's widening eyes. Then she slowly pulled down the
pink panties she had on underneath. Then she walked purposefully over to
Derek's chair, shoved the desk in front of him aside, and straddled
him. "Oh, it is," she demurred. "I've been presidents. Kings.
Celebrities. But it all gets old so fast. I'd much rather be just a
married school teacher who is sitting on a student who is starting to
show a lot of promise in the boner department."She started
grinding against his crotch and leaned into his ear so that her hot
breath left goose bumps down his spine. "Tomorrow's panties would have
been much sexier. Tomorrow is Saturday and I always wear something sexy
for my husband since I know he'll fuck my brains out before noon. Could I
pretend you're my husband right now? Just answer my question first,"
she purred."I, I'm just me," Derek said, struggling to
concentrate as Mrs. Darcy rubbed harder and harder against him. He was
still a virgin and would not be able to last much longer without leaving
a mess on his jeans. "You know me. You can access Mrs. Darcy's memories
about me, can't you?"Mrs. Darcy took off her top and shoved both
tits into Derek's face. "Of course. But all she knows about you is that
you're a bright boy that could be doing better in her class if you'd
just focus on the subject matter instead of her sexy mouth and titties.
Not that I mind at the moment. But I don't know what I want to know and
this is your last chance to tell me. Just tell me and maybe we can be
friends. Don't, and I will make your life a living hell."Derek
was close to orgasm, but the threat scared him enough to rally. He
shoved her off and Mrs. Darcy landed on the floor, hard. "Don't threaten
me! I told you, I'm just me. Just a normal guy trying to finish high
school and get out of this town."Mrs. Darcy glared at him from
the floor. When she spoke next, it was not with Mrs. Darcy's voice, but
the deep voice of a man. "Fine kid. Play dumb. Maybe I just find out
from your best friend. Or a family member. Getting the information out
of them should be easy, and a lot of fun."Mrs. Darcy got to her
feet and started dressing, and continued to speak in that same low
voice. "It's funny. I've been bouncing all over this school, possessing
different people here and there. Getting off where I could and causing a
little drama. It's the only thing that keeps me going since I don't
have my own body anymore. And I was just about to move on, today in
fact, but now, I'll be sticking around. Thanks for livening up my... "The
words were cut off and for the third time today, Derek watched a person
in front of him shudder for a second from head to toe. Something
clicked in Derek's brain. "That shudder thing I saw Amy do, her whole
body just shook for a moment like she had caught a chill, then you did
it when she touched you at the end of class. That's when you took over
Mrs. Darcy. A person shudders when you... jump in or whatever and then..
I'm guessing it's something that happens every so often.Mrs.
Darcy now looked very annoyed. "Yeah, there's that intelligence this
chick knows you have. It's about the only involuntary reaction I have.
My tell as it were. And yes, it happens when I take over someone, or
when I need to reassert control of my host."Derek nodded along,
then said, "I'm sorry. It's so weird to hear a strange man's voice come
out of Mrs. Darcy's mouth. Could you maybe, speak like her again?"Mrs.
Darcy finished buttoning her top and bellowed, "I'll talk how I damn
well please kid! You have no idea how long it's been since I was able to
use my real voice to talk to someone. I've been at this a long time. A
very long time.""How long till you have to reassert control of someone?" Derek asked."Everyone's
a little different, but the longer I'm in someone, the less it happens,
and the more and more I can change their personality."Now it was Derek's turn to shudder. "You can... rewrite someone?"Mrs. Darcy grinned coolly. "Sort of. But you'll see soon enough."Then
she walked to the door and held it open. Then in Mrs. Darcy's voice,
she declared loudly, "Just follow that lesson plan and that should get
you caught up. If you still need help, well," she put on a flirty smile.
"I'm sure I'll be seeing you real soon. Here's a note so you won't be
counted tardy for your next class.""Really? You think I'm worrying about a tardy?" Derek wondered aloud as he stepped into the empty school hallway."Appearances
are everything Mr. Johnson. Like I said, I'm careful. Now if you'll
excuse me, I'd like to make the most out of this free period." And with
that Mrs. Darcy closed and locked the door of her classroom.Derek
floated through his remaining classes for the day in a state of
paranoia. He really didn't know why he would be so important to Mrs.
Darcy, or Amy, or, really, this mystery man that had somehow inhabited
their bodies. It was like something out of a cheap science fiction film.
Was he safe from him, or her, whoever? Would he see her again as Mrs.
Darcy, or someone else next time? Maybe someone closer to him? He had to
tell someone, but who on earth would believe him. Maybe he should do
nothing and wait to see if it would blow over. He doubted it, but didn't
see any other choice.When the last bell rang, he figured he'd
make a beeline for home and so he could keep a close eye on his family.
He knew his parents were okay because they would still be at work, and
his twin sister had been sick. He wasn't sure they were in danger, but
he didn't know what to think, and that was the worst part. Nothing had
happened since history class, and he was hopeful nothing else would.As
he exited the school, Derek took a second to look around. Students
milling about, talking laughing, waiting for a ride. He noticed his
neighbor, Jessica. She was in his grade, also 18, and currently sporting
her cheerleader outfit. Her long, blonde hair was tied up in a long
ponytail and she was standing on her tiptoes as she kissed her
boyfriend, Brad, the star quarterback . Both were just a few feet away
from him.As their lips detached, he overheard Jessica say, "I
told you, I can't stay to watch you practice today. The squad is already
mad at me but they understand. Nana is not doing well and so my parents
are taking us to see her in the hospital.""Then why are you wearing your cheerleader outfit?" Brad asked as his eyes and hands raked across her figure."Down boy," she giggled. "I wore it just so you could see me in it before I said goodbye.""Well,
goodbye," and Brad leaned in and they were joined at the mouth again.
Derek was almost past them, when Jessica detached herself from Brad and
grabbed Derek's arm. "You'll walk me home, won't you Derek? Brad can't
be late for football practice."Derek eyed her warily. "We haven't walked home together in years?"Jessica shrugged. "I know. I miss those days, don't you?""Not really."She
playfully punched his arm. "Rude much." She laughed. "C'mon, you can
fill me in on your latest college prospects. Don't tell me you're still
thinking about taking a year off?"Derek looked at her intently.
"No, no I decided against that. I guess, let's just go, I gotta get
home?" He started walking away from her."Okay," she gave an
apologetic wave to her boyfriend and ran to catch up. She jogged up to
him and they had walked a couple blocks before she asked, "What's got
you in such a hurry today? Hot date tonight?"He kept glancing at her, as if he were looking for something. "No. I just, need to get home is all. It's been a weird day.""How so?" she asked casually."I don't want to talk about it," he replied sharply. They were now a block away from their houses. He just wanted to get there.She
gingerly grabbed his arm and pulled him to a stop. "Hey," she said, and
there was compassion in her voice. "We used to talk about anything and
everything. I opened up to you all the time when my parents were
fighting and it really helped. If something's bothering you, I want to
hear it."Derek's armor was starting to crack. "I mean, I would like to talk about it. But, you have to go see your grandma.""It's
okay," and her eyes went up and to the left. "My parents won't be here
for another 20 or so minutes, so come inside real quick and tell me
what's on your mind."Reluctantly, Derek stopped outside her house, then said, "Okay.""Yay,"
she squealed and started fishing out her house keys. "C'mon in. Gosh,
it's been awhile since you were inside. Mom painted again as you can
see."Derek nodded before diving in with, "Yeah, look, I'll make this short and I know you're not going to believe me but.. ""Hold
that thought," Jessica interrupted. "I need to change so I can be ready
when my parents get here. Follow me upstairs and you can tell me
there?""While you're changing!" Derek exclaimed.Jessica
eyed him wryly. "No you pervert. You'll be outside my bedroom, and I'll
be on the inside, and there will be a door between us. I'll be able to
hear you just fine." She hit his arm again as if playing tag, then
bounded up the stairs ahead of him. Derek turned to follow, but when he
looked up he was temporarily distracted by a vision of bright orange
panties at the top of the stairs."You coming?" she asked as she looked back,
and then realized the view she had just given him and pulled her skirt
down in embarrassment."Ooh," she murmured, blushing. "Can we just pretend that didn't happen?""Nope," he said with a wide smile, the first he could remember today. "It's locked in my brain forever.""Pervert,"
she said again rolling her eyes and smiling. She went into her bedroom,
shutting the door almost but not quite all the way. "So, what's going
on?""Well," he didn't really know how to begin, "I guess it started when Amy came in to history class.. ""What?" Jessica yelled. "Come closer. I can't hear you."Derek moved closer towards the crack in the door. "I said, it started when Amy.. "Then
Derek noticed the crack in the door in front of him. It gave him a
direct line of sight to her closet doors, one of which had a full length
mirror. That door had been opened in such a way as to give him a
perfect view of Jessica's reflection next to her dresser, just behind
the door he was standing in front of. She was just starting to pull off
her cheerleader top and he was suddenly captivated by the two D size
orbs on her chest which strained at her flowery bra. "I should've
known it would have something to do with the girl you've had a crush on
since middle school," she said, as her thumbs hooked her cheerleader
skirt and he got an even better view of her orange panties. He
watched, speechless as she started rummaging through her dresser. Her
perfect ass was now turned towards the mirror as she bent to the lowest
drawer to look for a top, when he saw it. A shudder. If he hadn't been
transfixed on her, he might have missed it. Jessica stood up
straight, and turned to the mirror, making eye contact with Derek. "Oh
poo," she pouted. "You saw that didn't you?"She reached behind
her back and unhooked her bra, letting it fall to the floor. "You were
watching so closely, weren't you," she said seductively. "You were just
being a good neighbor, weren't you?" In one quick movement, she pulled
off her panties, and then opened the door. One hand went to his cheek,
while the other went to his rock hard crotch. "Tell me something,
Derek," she pressed her naked body against him, "why did we never get
together? I mean, I'm the girl next door after all.""Why are you doing this?" Derek demanded, taking a step back. "Because
of that right there," the deep man's voice was back. "I'm used to being
in control of each and every situation, and I can't control you. Can't
make you forget, and I'm going to find out why. I found out where you
lived easy enough with Mrs. Darcy's access to student's files. Then
hopped a few more people till I found someone who lived close to you.
Someone who's known you for awhile and might have a clue to this mystery
for me.""It's just wrong," Derek grumbled, while trying not to keep staring at Jessica's marvelous chest. Jessica
took a step towards him. "No, what's wrong is that this fine piece of
ass had the hots for you a couple years ago and you never made a move.
Other than that there were no useful memories.""I was dating someone a couple years ago," Jake defended. Jessica's
eyes went up and to the left. "Heather. Yeah, okay, she was pretty hot
too. But you weren't married." The voice then switched over to Jessica's
seamlessly. "You could have had us both." And she lunged for him,
wrapping her body around him and kissing him on the mouth. Derek
momentarily kissed back. It was what his body wanted. Really wanted. He
felt like he had had blue balls since history class. But.. he ended the
kiss and gently pushed her back. " You're not Jessica!" he snapped.
"This isn't what she'd want.""But I am, and it is, at least for
now," she smiled demurely. "I'm willing to put my question on hold for a
bit. I need some release."She was about to pounce again when
they heard the door slam. Panic shot through Derek's eyes as he realized
he was standing in front of Mr. and Mrs. Roberts daughter. Mr. Roberts
liked him, but would still probably kill him anyway in this
circumstance. "I figured you were lying about her parents coming home,"
Derek whispered. "I was and I wasn't," Jessica said quietly as
she stepped inside her room and put on a bathrobe. "That should be my
mom. Remember a few years back when you told me you had a sex dream
about her and I said it was totally gross.""I.. Man I hate how you can just tap into her memories like that," Derek said, anticipating the worst. "Aw, you're so nervous, it's cute." Jessica gestured towards her room. "Go hide in the closet. I'll take care of 'mom."As
Derek walked into Jessica's room and crammed himself into her closet,
Jessica yelled, "Mom, can you help me with something real quick?"From
downstairs, Derek heard Mrs. Roberts yell back, "Jessica? What are you
doing home? Shouldn't you be at cheerleader practice?" He then heard
her footsteps on the stairs. He watched through the slats in the
closet as "Jessica" walked into her room. Now he started to sweat. He
didn't know how this was going to play out, but it couldn't be good. "Jessica?" her mother called out. "In here mom," Derek saw Jessica say, and then she turned and winked at him, knowing he was watching through the closet slats.Derek
saw as Mrs. Roberts entered her daughter's room. She had apparently
been out for a light jog. She had on tight black running shorts and a
tight purple top. Her blonde hair was in a ponytail just like her
daughter. They looked very much alike. Mrs. Roberts had certainly aged
well and had certainly kept her figure and was probably in her late
forties but looked like a woman in her thirties. Derek didn't tell
Jessica that there had been more than one sex dream about her mother. "Mom,
I was wondering if you'd act out a little scene with me," Jessica
started. "You see, I never have an audience. Sure, I've had some fun
before, but I was the only one who could enjoy it. It was just for me.
Would you help me?""I, sure honey," Mrs. Roberts hesitated, "but what are you talking... "Jessica
touched her mom. Mrs. Roberts shuddered, then her face slowly turned,
as she aimed the most seductive grin at Derek in the closet. Jessica
didn't fall to the floor, but continued to stand there, her eyes
slightly glazed over. Mrs. Roberts turned to face her daughter
and said in a concerned mother's tone, but with a hint of lust, "Yes,
Jessica dear. I'll help in any way I can." She touched her daughter. Jessica shuddered, took her mother's hand and said, "Well, there's this boy see, and I think he likes me."Shudder. Mrs.
Roberts resumed speaking, "How could he not like you dear. I mean, look
at these spectacular breasts you have." Mrs. Roberts pulled her
daughter's robe apart, and then pushed it off her shoulders, letting it
hit the floor. She then reached out and started groping her daughter's
chest. Shudder. Mrs. Roberts continued to squeeze her
daughter's breasts, but it was Jessica who said, "Well, I have you to
thank for that Momma. I mean, just look at yours." Jessica pulled her
mother's top over her head, and then helped remove her sports bra that
was underneath. "They're even bigger than mine!" Jessica proclaimed as
if seeing them for the first time. Then she bent over and started
kissing her mother's breasts. Derek felt his eyes try to jump out
of his sockets as he took in Mrs. Roberts' massive tits. They were
nearly identical to her daughter's, just a little bigger, and a little
saggier. His eyes kept trying to jump out as Mrs. Roberts continued
groping her daughter's chest, while Jessica kissed her mother's tits.
Derek noted that the formerly possessed would continue to actions of the
possessor even when he had jumped into his next victim. Shudder. "Oh Jessica dear," Mrs. Roberts moaned. "I hope he's as good at foreplay as you are?"Shudder. "That's
the problem Momma," Jessica pouted as she looked up from her mother's
tits. "There hasn't been any foreplay yet. We haven't even kissed, and
I'm just so nervous I'll do it wrong."Shudder. Mrs.
Roberts put her hand under her chin and brought up her daughter's pretty
face. She then looked into her glassy eyed daughter's eyes. "I'd be
happy to give you a lesson in kissing."Derek's jaw was on the
floor as he watched mother and daughter shudder again and again, a new
one taking the lead each time as their mouths met and they started to
embrace and let their hands roam over each other. This went on for a few
minutes, Derek completely swept along by what was easily the most
erotic thing he'd ever seen. His heart raced as he saw Jessica remove
her mother's running shorts and give her mom's ass a playful smack, then
resume their makeout session. Finally Mrs. Roberts broke from a
prolonged, sloppy kiss and said breathily, "Yes. Kiss him like that and
he'll have the hardest dick you've ever seen."Shudder. "Oh Momma, you think so? Could we test it right now?" And Jessica hopped up and down with feigned excitement. Shudder. "What do you mean dear daughter?" Mrs. Roberts asked as if clueless.Shudder. "Well
Momma, I'm pretty sure he's been staring at us from inside my closet
this whole time," and Jessica blew a kiss at the closet.Shudder. Derek
knew this was being staged, but it was hard not to get swept up in the
moment as his hot, naked classmate's mother walked over and slid the
closet door open and looked at Derek with mock outrage on her face. "Derek!
You naughty boy! All this time you were in my daughter's closet,
watching us kiss and groping one another?" Mrs. Roberts said
accusingly. "Hey," Derek said somewhat amused and a lot horny, "You would know, you put me in here."Mrs.
Roberts covered her hand with her face, "How dare you? I would never do
something so scandalous. I'll have to ask you to leave." Mrs. Roberts
reached over and tagged her daughter who hadn't moved. Shudder. "But
Momma, I'd like to practice more, and he's right here," Jessica pulled
Derek out of the closet and started taking off his jeans. When she
pulled off his underwear, she looked at her mother and stated, "And it
looks like he's got that nice hard dick you were talking about." When
Jessica had Derek as naked as she was, she stood and tapped her mom's
shoulder. Shudder. "Well, I do want to be a good mother,
and a good neighbor." Mrs. Roberts eyed Derek with pure carnal desire,
then started removing his shirt. She then led him to Jessica's queen
sized bed. "Having fun so far Derek? Enjoying my little play?""Y-yes, ma'am" he admitted. He couldn't stop this now if he wanted to."Good,"
Mrs. Roberts smiled, shoving him down on the mattress. "And please,
call me Mrs. Roberts like you always have. Now watch this. Jessica."
Jessica was still standing in the place where she had taken off Derek's
pants, but now she turned and faced her mother. "Come over here and put
those perky tits in our neighbor boy's face while I start sucking his
dick."Derek watched in amazement as Jessica obediently came over
and clumsily placed her large breasts in his face. Derek wasn't sure if
it was Mrs. Roberts who was fantastic at blowjobs, or her possessor, but
either way he came in seconds. He watched as Mrs. Roberts swallowed,
then tapped her daughter.Shudder. "Oh, now that just won't
do Derek." Jessica circled her right breast with her hand before
squeezing it and guiding the nipple into his mouth. "Momma, please keep
stroking his cock until he gets hard again. She looked at him with an
innocent, questioning face. "Or maybe you'd like us to make out some
more? Or you could watch as my mom ate out my pussy?"And just
like that Derek was ready to go again. This time he grabbed Jessica and
kissed her. She returned his kiss then broke for air to say, "Momma,
play with this boy's balls while I ride his dick." And then Jessica
mounted him and rode him for all he was worth. He watched as she came
multiple times and was about to himself, when she expertly rolled off
him and slapped her mother's ass hard causing the firm flesh to jiggle
slightly. Shudder. "Sorry," said Mrs. Roberts
apologetically, climbing on top of him. "I like to have multiple orgasms
in multiple bodies when I can." And then she started to ride him, nice
and slow, squeezing her breasts and moaning like a porn star, achieving
orgasm in just a few minutes. "Older ladies bodies must be a lot
more sensitive," Derek thought to himself as he came for the second
time. Mrs. Roberts dismounted and they both lay there a few moments with
Jessica standing with a vacant expression inches away. Then an
uncharacteristically low voice came out of Mrs. Roberts mouth. "Sorry
neighbor boy. That was fun but I can never bask in the afterglow when
I've had two at once." Then Mrs. Roberts got up and started to put
herself back together. Derek sat up and started getting dressed himself. "You've done that before!""A
few times," the deep voice said. "It's not always worth it to me
because I have to move quick before one of them comes to their senses,
and there's a slight buffer in sensation when I'm hopping so quickly.
But like I said, I ain't never had an audience before, and that made it
really hot.""It was hot," Derek agreed. "The hottest thing ever.
But you know what's not hot? Hearing your voice coming out of Mrs.
Roberts' mouth."Mrs. Roberts frowned, then walked over and touched her daughter. Shudder. Jessica's
peppy voice burst out of her mouth indignantly, "I'm sorry. You only
like it when I 'pretend' to be the person I'm possessing, is that it?""I'm
sorry, no, it's just a lot to get used to," Derek tried to say coolly.
"It just, makes me feel like I just slept with a man is all.""I
was a man!" said the male voice indignantly. Jessica started to put her
clothes back on but it was the low voice that continued. "That's what I
started out as anyways. But when my situation happened years ago, I
could become whatever gender I wanted on the fly. I haven't used my
original voice in decades, mainly because I like fooling everyone around
me into thinking I'm the person I'm possessing. It's my biggest kink
really.""It feels like I should call you another name when you
use that voice, or if we meet again and you're in some other body,"
Derek offered, trying to be helpful. "Ha! Sure kid. You can call me Nevyn when and if you figure me out again. Like I said, you not knowing is my biggest turn on."And
with that Nevyn looked at Mrs. Roberts and switched back to Jessica's
voice. "Mom, go use the restroom, then lay down in your bed. When you
come around you'll remember taking a nap after you went for a run and
nothing else." Mrs. Roberts walked out of the room. "That's all you have to do?" Derek said in disbelief. "Yeah,"
Nevyn shrugged, talking like his original male self again. "It's pretty
easy. As long as I've possessed someone recently, they're in that
obedient and suggestible window like you saw with me and 'mom.' If I
miss the window at all, I just possess that person, making them forget,
and it's all fixed. Which brings us back to business. We've had our fun.
I put on a good show for you. Now why can't I possess you?" She/he
poked Derek in the chest. "Look, I honestly don't know. If I knew I would tell you."Nevyn studied him a moment. "I think I believe you, but I'm not through investigating."Derek smiled a little. "You gonna go dust for some clues? Interview some witnesses?"He
watched Jessica's mouth curved wickedly and resume her girlish voice.
"Witnesses. Yes. That's exactly what I'm going to do. Find more
witnesses. Examine more memories. Find out from the people who know you
best and for the longest."The smile was gone from Derek's face. "What do you mean? You're not talking about.. ""Your family of course," Jessica said with laughter in her voice. "No!" Derek growled. "Oh,
I'm sorry," Jessica's voice was still playful, but with a bite. "I
don't like being told what to do. But I do take requests. Usually I just
find out what people want by taking them over. But since I can't do
that with you, you'll have to tell me.""I don't want you to do it at all," Derek barked. Jessica
looked at him as if he were being a disobedient child. "Now now, I
haven't given you the options. I can hop in with you knowing full well
I'm there. Finding out what I want to know from each of your family
members. Maybe we act out a little incest fantasy, your mom and sister
are both very attractive. That's not just my assessment by the way, my
'mom' thinks so too.""Why you," Derek started to shout. "Or,"
Jessica interrupted, "I can sneak in. I can disguise myself from you
and act like your family members completely. Until I get bored and start
to mess with you.""Or until I see your tell!" Derek countered. "But you won't get them. I won't let you."Jessica
put both her hands on his face. "Derek sweetie. Are you going to lock
them up in your house? If you can't, I can come at them a million
different ways."She leaned in and kissed him forcibly, then shoved him
away. "Now get out of here. My 'mom' will be waking up from her nap any
minute." Jessica waved him towards the stairs, then Derek saw the
familiar eye movement that meant Nevyn was accessing her memories. "And
my daddy will be home any second, so beat it."Derek looked at
her/him with loathing. He tried to disassociate her from Nevyn who was
inside, but it was difficult. When he was downstairs and starting to
open the front door, he heard Jessica call, "Derek, I'll be seeing you
real soon."To be continued...
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I try not to think of myself as the bad guy. Yes, I found myself involved in the development of mind-control technology, but I did my best to protect the world from the worst of it. After that, things just kind of happened on their own.
At least, that's what I try to tell myself.
In hindsight, I don’t see how things could have turned out any other way. I’m not saying that as an excuse for any of the things I did or as if it makes them any less bad, but having taken the first step, things just kind of kept happening.
It started at work. I won’t say where.
We were testing methods of remote information transmission that didn’t rely on explicit outputs or inputs. Basically communication that bypassed the barriers outlined in models like Berlo’s SMCR: Instead of relying on language to convey meaning, our aim was to find a way to convey meaning itself directly from one mind to at least one other.
Again, with the benefit of hindsight, the implications were obvious, but we weren’t concerned with whether we should, we just wanted to see if we could. Classic hubris of the scientifically minded.
And it turns out we can. Or more specifically, I can. I’ve made sure all traces of the research material has been scrubbed from any database; every hard drive degaussed, every memory stick smashed into tiny pieces, every document shredded and the whole lot set on fire just to be safe. The technology is too dangerous to risk falling into the wrong hands.
Yes, like mine. It turns out my hands are also the wrong hands, but I didn’t know it at the time. I thought if I just kept the research to myself and studied it in secret, I could find a way to use it to make the world a better place. I guess I can still do that. Maybe it will make up for the bad that I’ve done, which on reflection isn’t even that bad.
Sure, I accidentally corrupted the free will of a fellow human being and inadvertently turned them into my loyal assistant and sex slave, but they’re happy. I know they’re happy, because in a lot of ways, they’re also me.
That helps, right?
*
Everyone was very excited. It was something worth being excited about. Transmission was old tech and measuring changes in brain waves was old tech, but reliably translating knowledge as it was being recalled into data, then being able to implant that data into another mind was a big fucking deal.
Other departments in other labs were specialising in mechanical transmission - robotics and cybernetics, for replacement or auxiliary limbs or remote work in hazardous environments. Useful stuff, but not nearly as delicate as what we were trying to achieve. They were trying to transmit a signal to a robot hand to gently hold an egg: We were trying to pull a single thought out of one mind and stitch it seamlessly into another.
Our first major breakthrough was impression: Not the conveyance of explicit knowledge or of a specific message, just a vague sense experienced by the broadcaster transmitted to the receiver. It had to be a strong sense, which meant staff with intense phobias being the broadcaster knowing what objects were beneath a series of cups, and the receiver choosing a cup at random based on the impression being transmitted to them.
It wasn’t a hundred percent accurate, but the results fell well outside of what would have been possible on pure guesswork and we were pumped to fine tune the technology to see what it could do.
I say “random,” because even though it wasn’t, even though we knew it wasn’t and even though the receiver knew that a successful test would be proof that it wasn’t, they still felt as though they were choosing randomly. At no point did they feel like they were under someone else’s influence or receiving information externally; in every single instance, they were convinced that the experiment had failed and they were just choosing at random.
That should have been our first warning.
We advanced from cups viewed from two positions to mazes navigated from two positions, and then from mazes to simple guessing games like battleships and go fish. Again, no explicit information, but impressions that still left the receiver under the illusion that they were just lucky guessers.
From simple games we moved on to more advanced guessing games like celebrity heads and poker. This was a significant step forwards, but we were still relying on impressions that could be rationalised by the receiver as guesswork and luck. At no point was anyone being fed information that they couldn’t have conceivably deduced, remembered, calculated or bumbled their way into naturally.
That’s when the second major breakthrough happened. One of our broadcasters, Jackson, had gotten tired transmitting the correct answers to his receiver and had started feeding them deliberately incorrect answers. Nothing obvious - just answers that were close enough that they could make even someone who already knew second guess themselves. His receiver had a post-it note on her forehead with “Tiger Woods” written in permanent marker on it, and she had been given the clue “Golfing champion.”
By now, everyone had gotten used to Jackson’s shenanigans, so we grinned or grimaced as poor Lena rattled through every wrong answer she could be compelled to try.
“Tony the Tiger. Michael Jordan. Walt Disney. Santa Claus. Mickey Mouse. Bullroarer Took. Babe Ruth. Heisenberg. Wait, who the hell is Bullroarer Took?”
She didn’t get an answer, as the lab immediately exploded into questions and exclamations and people generally just freaking out. We’d done it, and somehow completely by accident: An entirely new, explicit piece of information had been seamlessly added to a receiver’s brain and it wasn’t until a few seconds after they’d actually said it that they even realised it wasn’t information from their own brain.
That was our second warning.
The third warning came quite a bit later, but by pure chance, I was the only one who noticed and when I did, I acted immediately.
Jackson’s shenanigans had inadvertently opened up new paths of inquiry. By randomly but deliberately poking at areas of knowledge specifically unrelated to the task at hand, we were able to isolate the neural activation patterns associated with conscious knowledge independent of emotional belief.
What followed were several successful instances of transmitting discrete pieces of data from broadcaster to receiver, however we then ran into the new problem of getting the receiver to distinguish between their own thoughts and the information being fed to them. Furthermore, when asked to explain the reasoning behind the transmitted answers, receivers became dismissive, evasive and sometimes even agitated, later explaining that the information just “felt true,” a sensation that applied even in instances where the receiver had been deliberately fed incorrect data.
With mounting dread, we realised the danger of the technology we had created.
The true horror sunk in during a coffee break, when by pure chance I saw Jackon’s reflection making an odd hand gesture over the drink of a coworker whose back was turned. I had to force myself to turn around slowly, watching Jackson converse casually without his eyes leaving her face. It wasn’t until she took a sip that he seemed to relax and noticed me by the coffee machine. I did my best to betray nothing, placing my own coffee onto the table in front of him and moving as though to sit when I “remembered” to get cream from the fridge.
This time when I turned I saw his hurried motion plainly in the brushed metal door, and it took all the self control I had not to confront him or punch his lights out. I returned to the table, adding the cream without sitting before returning it to the fridge. I picked up my coffee and was about to walk out of the room with it when Jackson called out to me with some innocent question about my department. It quickly became clear that he was stalling, waiting for me to drink, so I feigned a casual sip with tightly pursed lips as we spoke and he seemed to relax. I took the opportunity to leave with my cup and as soon as I was out of sight went straight to the micro-observation facility.
We had initially aimed to use physical chips implanted in the subject’s brains to establish a connection, but the risk of accidental damage compounded by multiple intrusions in the case of faulty hardware or the replacement of redundant units made this untenable. Thankfully (or perhaps not), we were assisted by our sister department in nanotech, who had developed a biomonitoring system using carbide nanites that could enter the bloodstream through the digestive tract. To test for successful nanite absorption, we just needed to take a blood sample and insert it into an observation case. And it didn’t just work on blood.
I felt my stomach drop as the coffee reading came back positive. A concentration high enough that even a mouthful would fully colonise a body within hours. I felt sick as I entered a vial of my own saliva, and when that test also came back as a weak positive and rising, I almost fainted.
That fucking bastard.
I had to stop myself from running to the configuration deck and came to a sudden halt halfway there. There’s no way Jackson could have done anything underhanded on one of the terminals without someone seeing him. The room, the equipment and change was constantly monitored as a security measure. If he were going to do anything without being detected, it would need to be somewhere private where he could still access the server and the network. He wasn’t authorised to be anywhere near the site’s core infrastructure, but it was the only place where he would have everything he needed.
I didn’t know how I was going to get access to the server room when I arrived - it’s not as if I had access either - but it turned out that I didn’t need access and neither did Jackson.
Lena had access, and she had left the door unlocked.
She looked up at me owlishly from where she was sitting on the floor, cross-legged with a laptop on her knees.
“Oh, Hi Marcus,” she said, parroting Tommy Wiseau’s infamous line as though we were meeting in the break room.
“Lena?” I asked cautiously. “What are you working on?”
“Oh, I’m just making sure that anytime a new host comes online, they’re set to receive only,” she said, as though she were just filling out her calendar. She turned the laptop so that I could see the screen and pointed at the second of two dots on a map of the facility. “See? There you are right next to me. You came online just a minute ago, so I’ve already made you a receiver.”
“And why would you do that?”
“Because Jackson told me to.”
I stared at the unquestioning innocence in her eyes.
“And you have to do what he says?”
Lena rolled her eyes at me. “Obviously.”
“Obviously,” I repeated. The silence was broken only by the steady whine of cooling fans.
Eventually, Lena shifted uncomfortably. “So, what are you doing here? You’re not IT.”
Not wanting to alarm her, I said the first thing that I could think of. “No, but Jackson sent me.”
The way Lena’s face lit up at his name made me feel ill.
“Does that mean you’re working for him too?”
“Yes,” I lied. Like a man laying down rails for a moving train as he’s riding on it, I grabbed blindly for any string of words that might work. “And he told me to come get you for something important. He’s… outside in the parking lot and says you need to come straight away.”
Lena’s brow wrinkled. “Oh, but I have to stay here for stage three. I’ve just finished getting everyone online.”
“That’s fine. He told me to take over. I have to do what he says, remember? You’ve finished stage two, haven’t you? He says you’ve done a very good job.”
Again, the look of bliss that took over Lena’s face twisted my gut.
“Great! Where can I find him?”
“He just told me as he was walking out,” I said, letting Lena stand up and hand me the laptop. “You’ll have to go look for him. He’s keeping an eye out for you.”
“Okay!” I watched Lena leave the room and closed it behind her, making sure to lock it this time. We shared our parking with three other departments across eight floors, so unless Jackson really was there already, that would keep her out of the way.
She’d been right. Jackson had worked his way through the entire department’s staff and I had a live view of every single person in the facility. Watching the glowing dots meander around the map gave me a truly terrifying glimpse into the future we had made possible.
What caught my eye was something that didn’t exist in the standard interface. We had created individual controls for the kind of transmissions we wanted and the direction we wanted them to go in, but Lena had added a new input without a label.
Clicking on it, a text field appears in which the name “Enfield, Lena” was already populated followed by a yes/no switch.
I pressed “yes” and blacked out.
*
I was in the parking lot, on the blue level by bay two-zero-two. At first I wondered how I had been suddenly transported when I realised how strange I felt all over - my body, my clothes and my hair all felt wrong somehow.
I looked down and felt the strength leave my legs as I saw a woman’s body stretching out below me. A woman’s body in a pair of black Mary Janes, matching pencil skirt, white dress shirt and a lanyard whose ID read “Lena Enfield.”
I stared at myself in shock, having fallen to my knees and began running my unfamiliar hands over my unfamiliar body, trying to confirm that I wasn’t somehow dreaming.
“Lena!” a voice echoed across the concrete, causing me to jump in a mix of fear and guilt. I turned in the direction of the voice and felt my heart quail at the side of Jackson striding towards me, his face contorted with fury.
In that instant I felt an overwhelming sense of panic take over and I wanted to be absolutely anywhere except anywhere near him, and in that same moment I felt myself dragged back into the cool air of the server room, sitting on the floor with Lena’s laptop on my legs.
We had theorised that it was possible, but had never been arrogant or stupid enough to try it. The psychological risks and ethical dangers it posed were beyond our ability to rationalise and well outside the original scope of the project, though there were rumours that it would eventually be turned towards a similar end.
But I didn’t have time to marvel at the development. Jackson would interrogate Lena, Lena would tell him the truth, and he would run straight here. I had to act fast.
Jackson would head straight for the server room once he realised what had happened.
I could head straight for the director’s office, but there was no guarantee that she wasn’t also in on his plot. I checked the map again: She had her nanites installed and despite her rank in the organisation had also been set to receive, as had every guard on her floor. Jackson really intended to just dominate everyone in the building. I had all the proof I needed to expose Jackson and have him arrested.
We would need to deprogram Lena. Shit, assuming that was even possible. God only knew how badly Jackson had been screwing with her brain, or for how long. And there was always a chance the higher ups would find out and do what higher ups always do when they have the opportunity to take even more wealth and power.
I fretted for much longer than I should have under the circumstances. Maybe there really was no other way, or maybe I was just deliberately backing myself into a corner. Whatever the case, the sudden jangle of keys at the door alerted me that I had run out of time, and that within seconds, Jackson would be in the room to steal back the laptop, or possibly even frame me, now that he’d been discovered.
I’d considered the option and dismissed it as immoral. Self-serving. A road too dangerous to even consider walking down. But having failed to take any other action, it was the only one I had left.
It was the right thing to do. It was the only thing to do. When the chips are down and the pressure is on, the only person you can depend on is yourself.
I dragged my own icon into the super broadcaster position, and hit “execute.”
*
There wasn’t any sudden rush of sensation. There never had been: Broadcasting just took the data you wanted to impart and transmitted a copy to the target. But for some reason, I still expected something.
What did happen was the sound of keys hitting the floor outside, followed by a hollow groan of absolute despair.
I unlocked the door and opened it to find Jackson, grey-faced and swaying with his hands covering his face. Lena was behind him, looking pitiful, but not nearly as distraught as Jackson.
“Hello, Jackson.” I said flatly.
“Don’t…” he moaned through his hands.
People had begun to file into the room, ashen-faced but with a mix of anger, all of them staring at Jackson as he tried to hide behind himself.
I’d used the nanites to broadcast two things: The knowledge of what Jackson had tried to do, and my overwhelming disgust at him for the attempt.
Now everyone knew what he’d done, he knew that they knew and he shared their hatred for himself because I had copied it directly from my mind into his.
“Nobody hurt him,” I said, seeing the balled fists and shaking hands around me. “Nobody let him hurt himself, either. Get him out of here.”
Four men approached Jackson, who didn’t resist as they grimly marched him away. I turned to Lena, who was running her hands through her hair, wide-eyed and shivering.
“H-he was-s in m-my head…” she stammered.
I didn’t have any words of consolation for her. Least of all, because not moments ago I had also been inside her mind. The only reason she knew about Jackson was because I had “told” her. I motioned for another one of the staff to take her away.
“Alright, everyone,” I said to those who remained. “I want an all-hands meeting in the break room. Tell everyone you see, and someone head upstairs to find…”
I trailed off as I realised how much time would be wasted finding everyone in the building and telling them where to go, and then more wasted simply having the meeting itself, and that was assuming nobody disagreed with what I was about to say.
Well, neither of those things were problems anymore, were they?
I activated my transmitter and broadcast a new set of instructions.
“The project is to be terminated. Nobody can be trusted with this power. Destroy all hardware, all documentation, strip the building down and wipe everything.”
The effect was instant: People began moving with an almost frantic purpose, delegating tasks to themselves or people nearby as files began to be pulled out of drawers and shredded, computers wiped and machinery disassembled. I had intended to join in, but found myself at sea in a centre of bustling activity, so instead walked myself out to my car to lie down and clear my head.
Had I done the right thing? Yes. Absolutely. Any other decision would have exposed everyone to the risk of Jackson regaining control, or the project being compromised by a figure in authority. Even if the director was of sound moral character, her superiors might not be, or their superiors above them. Someone, somewhere in the organisation would have tried to take advantage, just like Jackson did. Better to destroy everything and pretend it never happened.
I watched numbly as a procession of staff began to file out with armfuls and boxes of shredded documents, leaving trails of confetti in their wake. Like ants, they threw their boxes into one of the massive steel containers used for waste disposal. Some others had started fussing over the nearest cars, and it took me a while to realise that they were siphoning the petrol.
My initial alarm was quelled somewhat when they left the containers of fuel to one side instead of lighting it immediately. Any kind of fire would alert the emergency services, who would no doubt try to stop what was happening once they arrived.
It was actually kind of peaceful, sitting apart from the action and just watching it unfold. Almost like watching an ant colony cleaning out a lunchbox: All of the inside bits got broken down and taken outside until all that was left was the shell.
They had filled all six bins and four of the cargo trucks by the time they were done. Everything had been reduced to the smallest parts it could be torn, cut, unscrewed, unplugged or just smashed into. There was no cheering as fuel was added or the flames lit from a safe distance. Just the quiet relief of a terrible future averted.
Someone coughed near me and I turned to see Lena and a few other members of staff with a single trolley loaded with some equipment that hadn’t been destroyed. Confused, I turned to Lena.
“Aren’t you going to add it to the pile?” I asked.
“Not this stuff,” Lena said cheerfully, apparently recovered from her earlier breakdown. “We figured it would be a shame if we destroyed literally everything, so we’ve saved some of it. And because you decided to be mister lazy-pants while the rest of us were hard at work, we’re giving you the job of taking care of it.”
I couldn’t stop my brow furrowing in confusion. “I never told you to do that.”
Lena scoffed as the others began loading the equipment into my car. “Good. We’re not here to do what you tell us. The vote was unanimous: We’re all getting out, so you get to babysit the last remnants. Hide it, destroy it, do whatever you want. This is your share of the responsibility. Maybe next time, do your bit instead of wandering off for a nap, okay?”
And with that, they left to join the rapidly dispersing crowd as everyone jumped into their cars or hitched a ride from the others. A column of black smoke reached up from the facility, and it would be a matter of minutes before the firefighters arrived. Just by virtue of the work we were doing, the cops wouldn’t be far behind.
Without time to get everything out of my car and into the fire, I jumped into the driver’s seat and made my way out with the rest, racking my brain furiously as I tried to avoid speeding on my way home.
I never told them to set aside any equipment for me. No, I never CONSCIOUSLY told them. That really was the only explanation: There was no way that - after being given the artificial impression that the entire project needed to be burned to the ground - they would somehow conveniently decide that I should be trusted with the last pieces of evidence. Not just any evidence, either: At a glance I could tell that I had been left with everything I needed to manufacture and configure the nanites myself, just on a much smaller scale.
Despite my best intentions, some small part of myself had subconsciously implanted the addendum that one way or another, I should have the power to continue the project privately.
Fine, then. I’d get home, pack up what little I could fit and get the hell out of the city, state, maybe even country before finding somewhere I could safely destroy the last remains of a terrible mistake.
That was almost two years ago.
I never did get around to destroying that equipment.
At least, that's what I try to tell myself.
In hindsight, I don’t see how things could have turned out any other way. I’m not saying that as an excuse for any of the things I did or as if it makes them any less bad, but having taken the first step, things just kind of kept happening.
It started at work. I won’t say where.
We were testing methods of remote information transmission that didn’t rely on explicit outputs or inputs. Basically communication that bypassed the barriers outlined in models like Berlo’s SMCR: Instead of relying on language to convey meaning, our aim was to find a way to convey meaning itself directly from one mind to at least one other.
Again, with the benefit of hindsight, the implications were obvious, but we weren’t concerned with whether we should, we just wanted to see if we could. Classic hubris of the scientifically minded.
And it turns out we can. Or more specifically, I can. I’ve made sure all traces of the research material has been scrubbed from any database; every hard drive degaussed, every memory stick smashed into tiny pieces, every document shredded and the whole lot set on fire just to be safe. The technology is too dangerous to risk falling into the wrong hands.
Yes, like mine. It turns out my hands are also the wrong hands, but I didn’t know it at the time. I thought if I just kept the research to myself and studied it in secret, I could find a way to use it to make the world a better place. I guess I can still do that. Maybe it will make up for the bad that I’ve done, which on reflection isn’t even that bad.
Sure, I accidentally corrupted the free will of a fellow human being and inadvertently turned them into my loyal assistant and sex slave, but they’re happy. I know they’re happy, because in a lot of ways, they’re also me.
That helps, right?
*
Everyone was very excited. It was something worth being excited about. Transmission was old tech and measuring changes in brain waves was old tech, but reliably translating knowledge as it was being recalled into data, then being able to implant that data into another mind was a big fucking deal.
Other departments in other labs were specialising in mechanical transmission - robotics and cybernetics, for replacement or auxiliary limbs or remote work in hazardous environments. Useful stuff, but not nearly as delicate as what we were trying to achieve. They were trying to transmit a signal to a robot hand to gently hold an egg: We were trying to pull a single thought out of one mind and stitch it seamlessly into another.
Our first major breakthrough was impression: Not the conveyance of explicit knowledge or of a specific message, just a vague sense experienced by the broadcaster transmitted to the receiver. It had to be a strong sense, which meant staff with intense phobias being the broadcaster knowing what objects were beneath a series of cups, and the receiver choosing a cup at random based on the impression being transmitted to them.
It wasn’t a hundred percent accurate, but the results fell well outside of what would have been possible on pure guesswork and we were pumped to fine tune the technology to see what it could do.
I say “random,” because even though it wasn’t, even though we knew it wasn’t and even though the receiver knew that a successful test would be proof that it wasn’t, they still felt as though they were choosing randomly. At no point did they feel like they were under someone else’s influence or receiving information externally; in every single instance, they were convinced that the experiment had failed and they were just choosing at random.
That should have been our first warning.
We advanced from cups viewed from two positions to mazes navigated from two positions, and then from mazes to simple guessing games like battleships and go fish. Again, no explicit information, but impressions that still left the receiver under the illusion that they were just lucky guessers.
From simple games we moved on to more advanced guessing games like celebrity heads and poker. This was a significant step forwards, but we were still relying on impressions that could be rationalised by the receiver as guesswork and luck. At no point was anyone being fed information that they couldn’t have conceivably deduced, remembered, calculated or bumbled their way into naturally.
That’s when the second major breakthrough happened. One of our broadcasters, Jackson, had gotten tired transmitting the correct answers to his receiver and had started feeding them deliberately incorrect answers. Nothing obvious - just answers that were close enough that they could make even someone who already knew second guess themselves. His receiver had a post-it note on her forehead with “Tiger Woods” written in permanent marker on it, and she had been given the clue “Golfing champion.”
By now, everyone had gotten used to Jackson’s shenanigans, so we grinned or grimaced as poor Lena rattled through every wrong answer she could be compelled to try.
“Tony the Tiger. Michael Jordan. Walt Disney. Santa Claus. Mickey Mouse. Bullroarer Took. Babe Ruth. Heisenberg. Wait, who the hell is Bullroarer Took?”
She didn’t get an answer, as the lab immediately exploded into questions and exclamations and people generally just freaking out. We’d done it, and somehow completely by accident: An entirely new, explicit piece of information had been seamlessly added to a receiver’s brain and it wasn’t until a few seconds after they’d actually said it that they even realised it wasn’t information from their own brain.
That was our second warning.
The third warning came quite a bit later, but by pure chance, I was the only one who noticed and when I did, I acted immediately.
Jackson’s shenanigans had inadvertently opened up new paths of inquiry. By randomly but deliberately poking at areas of knowledge specifically unrelated to the task at hand, we were able to isolate the neural activation patterns associated with conscious knowledge independent of emotional belief.
What followed were several successful instances of transmitting discrete pieces of data from broadcaster to receiver, however we then ran into the new problem of getting the receiver to distinguish between their own thoughts and the information being fed to them. Furthermore, when asked to explain the reasoning behind the transmitted answers, receivers became dismissive, evasive and sometimes even agitated, later explaining that the information just “felt true,” a sensation that applied even in instances where the receiver had been deliberately fed incorrect data.
With mounting dread, we realised the danger of the technology we had created.
The true horror sunk in during a coffee break, when by pure chance I saw Jackon’s reflection making an odd hand gesture over the drink of a coworker whose back was turned. I had to force myself to turn around slowly, watching Jackson converse casually without his eyes leaving her face. It wasn’t until she took a sip that he seemed to relax and noticed me by the coffee machine. I did my best to betray nothing, placing my own coffee onto the table in front of him and moving as though to sit when I “remembered” to get cream from the fridge.
This time when I turned I saw his hurried motion plainly in the brushed metal door, and it took all the self control I had not to confront him or punch his lights out. I returned to the table, adding the cream without sitting before returning it to the fridge. I picked up my coffee and was about to walk out of the room with it when Jackson called out to me with some innocent question about my department. It quickly became clear that he was stalling, waiting for me to drink, so I feigned a casual sip with tightly pursed lips as we spoke and he seemed to relax. I took the opportunity to leave with my cup and as soon as I was out of sight went straight to the micro-observation facility.
We had initially aimed to use physical chips implanted in the subject’s brains to establish a connection, but the risk of accidental damage compounded by multiple intrusions in the case of faulty hardware or the replacement of redundant units made this untenable. Thankfully (or perhaps not), we were assisted by our sister department in nanotech, who had developed a biomonitoring system using carbide nanites that could enter the bloodstream through the digestive tract. To test for successful nanite absorption, we just needed to take a blood sample and insert it into an observation case. And it didn’t just work on blood.
I felt my stomach drop as the coffee reading came back positive. A concentration high enough that even a mouthful would fully colonise a body within hours. I felt sick as I entered a vial of my own saliva, and when that test also came back as a weak positive and rising, I almost fainted.
That fucking bastard.
I had to stop myself from running to the configuration deck and came to a sudden halt halfway there. There’s no way Jackson could have done anything underhanded on one of the terminals without someone seeing him. The room, the equipment and change was constantly monitored as a security measure. If he were going to do anything without being detected, it would need to be somewhere private where he could still access the server and the network. He wasn’t authorised to be anywhere near the site’s core infrastructure, but it was the only place where he would have everything he needed.
I didn’t know how I was going to get access to the server room when I arrived - it’s not as if I had access either - but it turned out that I didn’t need access and neither did Jackson.
Lena had access, and she had left the door unlocked.
She looked up at me owlishly from where she was sitting on the floor, cross-legged with a laptop on her knees.
“Oh, Hi Marcus,” she said, parroting Tommy Wiseau’s infamous line as though we were meeting in the break room.
“Lena?” I asked cautiously. “What are you working on?”
“Oh, I’m just making sure that anytime a new host comes online, they’re set to receive only,” she said, as though she were just filling out her calendar. She turned the laptop so that I could see the screen and pointed at the second of two dots on a map of the facility. “See? There you are right next to me. You came online just a minute ago, so I’ve already made you a receiver.”
“And why would you do that?”
“Because Jackson told me to.”
I stared at the unquestioning innocence in her eyes.
“And you have to do what he says?”
Lena rolled her eyes at me. “Obviously.”
“Obviously,” I repeated. The silence was broken only by the steady whine of cooling fans.
Eventually, Lena shifted uncomfortably. “So, what are you doing here? You’re not IT.”
Not wanting to alarm her, I said the first thing that I could think of. “No, but Jackson sent me.”
The way Lena’s face lit up at his name made me feel ill.
“Does that mean you’re working for him too?”
“Yes,” I lied. Like a man laying down rails for a moving train as he’s riding on it, I grabbed blindly for any string of words that might work. “And he told me to come get you for something important. He’s… outside in the parking lot and says you need to come straight away.”
Lena’s brow wrinkled. “Oh, but I have to stay here for stage three. I’ve just finished getting everyone online.”
“That’s fine. He told me to take over. I have to do what he says, remember? You’ve finished stage two, haven’t you? He says you’ve done a very good job.”
Again, the look of bliss that took over Lena’s face twisted my gut.
“Great! Where can I find him?”
“He just told me as he was walking out,” I said, letting Lena stand up and hand me the laptop. “You’ll have to go look for him. He’s keeping an eye out for you.”
“Okay!” I watched Lena leave the room and closed it behind her, making sure to lock it this time. We shared our parking with three other departments across eight floors, so unless Jackson really was there already, that would keep her out of the way.
She’d been right. Jackson had worked his way through the entire department’s staff and I had a live view of every single person in the facility. Watching the glowing dots meander around the map gave me a truly terrifying glimpse into the future we had made possible.
What caught my eye was something that didn’t exist in the standard interface. We had created individual controls for the kind of transmissions we wanted and the direction we wanted them to go in, but Lena had added a new input without a label.
Clicking on it, a text field appears in which the name “Enfield, Lena” was already populated followed by a yes/no switch.
I pressed “yes” and blacked out.
*
I was in the parking lot, on the blue level by bay two-zero-two. At first I wondered how I had been suddenly transported when I realised how strange I felt all over - my body, my clothes and my hair all felt wrong somehow.
I looked down and felt the strength leave my legs as I saw a woman’s body stretching out below me. A woman’s body in a pair of black Mary Janes, matching pencil skirt, white dress shirt and a lanyard whose ID read “Lena Enfield.”
I stared at myself in shock, having fallen to my knees and began running my unfamiliar hands over my unfamiliar body, trying to confirm that I wasn’t somehow dreaming.
“Lena!” a voice echoed across the concrete, causing me to jump in a mix of fear and guilt. I turned in the direction of the voice and felt my heart quail at the side of Jackson striding towards me, his face contorted with fury.
In that instant I felt an overwhelming sense of panic take over and I wanted to be absolutely anywhere except anywhere near him, and in that same moment I felt myself dragged back into the cool air of the server room, sitting on the floor with Lena’s laptop on my legs.
We had theorised that it was possible, but had never been arrogant or stupid enough to try it. The psychological risks and ethical dangers it posed were beyond our ability to rationalise and well outside the original scope of the project, though there were rumours that it would eventually be turned towards a similar end.
But I didn’t have time to marvel at the development. Jackson would interrogate Lena, Lena would tell him the truth, and he would run straight here. I had to act fast.
Jackson would head straight for the server room once he realised what had happened.
I could head straight for the director’s office, but there was no guarantee that she wasn’t also in on his plot. I checked the map again: She had her nanites installed and despite her rank in the organisation had also been set to receive, as had every guard on her floor. Jackson really intended to just dominate everyone in the building. I had all the proof I needed to expose Jackson and have him arrested.
We would need to deprogram Lena. Shit, assuming that was even possible. God only knew how badly Jackson had been screwing with her brain, or for how long. And there was always a chance the higher ups would find out and do what higher ups always do when they have the opportunity to take even more wealth and power.
I fretted for much longer than I should have under the circumstances. Maybe there really was no other way, or maybe I was just deliberately backing myself into a corner. Whatever the case, the sudden jangle of keys at the door alerted me that I had run out of time, and that within seconds, Jackson would be in the room to steal back the laptop, or possibly even frame me, now that he’d been discovered.
I’d considered the option and dismissed it as immoral. Self-serving. A road too dangerous to even consider walking down. But having failed to take any other action, it was the only one I had left.
It was the right thing to do. It was the only thing to do. When the chips are down and the pressure is on, the only person you can depend on is yourself.
I dragged my own icon into the super broadcaster position, and hit “execute.”
*
There wasn’t any sudden rush of sensation. There never had been: Broadcasting just took the data you wanted to impart and transmitted a copy to the target. But for some reason, I still expected something.
What did happen was the sound of keys hitting the floor outside, followed by a hollow groan of absolute despair.
I unlocked the door and opened it to find Jackson, grey-faced and swaying with his hands covering his face. Lena was behind him, looking pitiful, but not nearly as distraught as Jackson.
“Hello, Jackson.” I said flatly.
“Don’t…” he moaned through his hands.
People had begun to file into the room, ashen-faced but with a mix of anger, all of them staring at Jackson as he tried to hide behind himself.
I’d used the nanites to broadcast two things: The knowledge of what Jackson had tried to do, and my overwhelming disgust at him for the attempt.
Now everyone knew what he’d done, he knew that they knew and he shared their hatred for himself because I had copied it directly from my mind into his.
“Nobody hurt him,” I said, seeing the balled fists and shaking hands around me. “Nobody let him hurt himself, either. Get him out of here.”
Four men approached Jackson, who didn’t resist as they grimly marched him away. I turned to Lena, who was running her hands through her hair, wide-eyed and shivering.
“H-he was-s in m-my head…” she stammered.
I didn’t have any words of consolation for her. Least of all, because not moments ago I had also been inside her mind. The only reason she knew about Jackson was because I had “told” her. I motioned for another one of the staff to take her away.
“Alright, everyone,” I said to those who remained. “I want an all-hands meeting in the break room. Tell everyone you see, and someone head upstairs to find…”
I trailed off as I realised how much time would be wasted finding everyone in the building and telling them where to go, and then more wasted simply having the meeting itself, and that was assuming nobody disagreed with what I was about to say.
Well, neither of those things were problems anymore, were they?
I activated my transmitter and broadcast a new set of instructions.
“The project is to be terminated. Nobody can be trusted with this power. Destroy all hardware, all documentation, strip the building down and wipe everything.”
The effect was instant: People began moving with an almost frantic purpose, delegating tasks to themselves or people nearby as files began to be pulled out of drawers and shredded, computers wiped and machinery disassembled. I had intended to join in, but found myself at sea in a centre of bustling activity, so instead walked myself out to my car to lie down and clear my head.
Had I done the right thing? Yes. Absolutely. Any other decision would have exposed everyone to the risk of Jackson regaining control, or the project being compromised by a figure in authority. Even if the director was of sound moral character, her superiors might not be, or their superiors above them. Someone, somewhere in the organisation would have tried to take advantage, just like Jackson did. Better to destroy everything and pretend it never happened.
I watched numbly as a procession of staff began to file out with armfuls and boxes of shredded documents, leaving trails of confetti in their wake. Like ants, they threw their boxes into one of the massive steel containers used for waste disposal. Some others had started fussing over the nearest cars, and it took me a while to realise that they were siphoning the petrol.
My initial alarm was quelled somewhat when they left the containers of fuel to one side instead of lighting it immediately. Any kind of fire would alert the emergency services, who would no doubt try to stop what was happening once they arrived.
It was actually kind of peaceful, sitting apart from the action and just watching it unfold. Almost like watching an ant colony cleaning out a lunchbox: All of the inside bits got broken down and taken outside until all that was left was the shell.
They had filled all six bins and four of the cargo trucks by the time they were done. Everything had been reduced to the smallest parts it could be torn, cut, unscrewed, unplugged or just smashed into. There was no cheering as fuel was added or the flames lit from a safe distance. Just the quiet relief of a terrible future averted.
Someone coughed near me and I turned to see Lena and a few other members of staff with a single trolley loaded with some equipment that hadn’t been destroyed. Confused, I turned to Lena.
“Aren’t you going to add it to the pile?” I asked.
“Not this stuff,” Lena said cheerfully, apparently recovered from her earlier breakdown. “We figured it would be a shame if we destroyed literally everything, so we’ve saved some of it. And because you decided to be mister lazy-pants while the rest of us were hard at work, we’re giving you the job of taking care of it.”
I couldn’t stop my brow furrowing in confusion. “I never told you to do that.”
Lena scoffed as the others began loading the equipment into my car. “Good. We’re not here to do what you tell us. The vote was unanimous: We’re all getting out, so you get to babysit the last remnants. Hide it, destroy it, do whatever you want. This is your share of the responsibility. Maybe next time, do your bit instead of wandering off for a nap, okay?”
And with that, they left to join the rapidly dispersing crowd as everyone jumped into their cars or hitched a ride from the others. A column of black smoke reached up from the facility, and it would be a matter of minutes before the firefighters arrived. Just by virtue of the work we were doing, the cops wouldn’t be far behind.
Without time to get everything out of my car and into the fire, I jumped into the driver’s seat and made my way out with the rest, racking my brain furiously as I tried to avoid speeding on my way home.
I never told them to set aside any equipment for me. No, I never CONSCIOUSLY told them. That really was the only explanation: There was no way that - after being given the artificial impression that the entire project needed to be burned to the ground - they would somehow conveniently decide that I should be trusted with the last pieces of evidence. Not just any evidence, either: At a glance I could tell that I had been left with everything I needed to manufacture and configure the nanites myself, just on a much smaller scale.
Despite my best intentions, some small part of myself had subconsciously implanted the addendum that one way or another, I should have the power to continue the project privately.
Fine, then. I’d get home, pack up what little I could fit and get the hell out of the city, state, maybe even country before finding somewhere I could safely destroy the last remains of a terrible mistake.
That was almost two years ago.
I never did get around to destroying that equipment.
mind control
masturbation
possession
stealth control
selfcest
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Top Adventures
Inspired from Dude9
Moving it to a ai format
In this story you are, Johnathan Maccinon an 18 year old boy who lives in Providence Rhode Island with his family. One day you are cleaning in your back yard when you discover a strange statue that ends up granting you paranormal powers!
List of powers
.Possession: You can possess the body of another person. When in possession of their body you have full control over them and can make them do anything. You achieve this by phasing into their bodies in either a physical or spirit form. After you leave them you can do one of three things.
1. Make them forget what happened and they just have a blank spot in their memory
2. Alter their memories
3. Let them remember you were inside of them
Mind control: By simply willing someone to do something they will do it. You can either make them do it and make it seem like they did it themselves or make them do something that they have no control over.
.Share Powers: Johnathan can allow his powers to be shared, but he cannot be affected by someone else using his powers against him and he can take the powers away with a thought.
CHARACTERS
Johnathan Maccinon: An 18 year old boy who lives with his family. He isn’t fat but he’s not ripped either. He has short brown hair and green eyes. He stands at around five feet eight inches tall and has a love for all things scary and paranormal.
Amanda Maccinon: Johnathan’s 40 year old mother. She is around the same size as John, she has chin length auburn hair, with green eyes. While she is in her forties she has an amazing body. She has maintained the hourglass figure with little toil. However her most prominent feature are her large breasts.
Nathan Maccinon: Johnathan’s father who is 50. He is five foot 3 and a little fat. He works at a law firm in the city and isn’t home much.
Mary Maccinon: Mary is your father’s sister. She has neck length black hair and wears glasses. She like your mother has a nice body and a large bust which she doesn’t like to flaunt, being very respectable.
Henry Rask: Henry is your childhood friend, like you he is a huge sci-fi fan. He likes stories that involve alien powers and possession.
Rachel Rask: Henry’s sister. She is in the same grade as you. While you grew up together she never really cared much for you and was at times mean. She has large DD breasts which she has no problem showing off.
Michelle Rask: Henry’s mom, she is the definition of a MILF. Big boobs, nice ass, glasses, long curly brown hair and gorgeous green eyes. You definitely see where Rachel gets her good looks from.
.You can add characters and do as you please.
However you cannot kill off the people listed. Have fun and go nuts
SETTING & WORLD
Modern day suburb
Moving it to a ai format
In this story you are, Johnathan Maccinon an 18 year old boy who lives in Providence Rhode Island with his family. One day you are cleaning in your back yard when you discover a strange statue that ends up granting you paranormal powers!
List of powers
.Possession: You can possess the body of another person. When in possession of their body you have full control over them and can make them do anything. You achieve this by phasing into their bodies in either a physical or spirit form. After you leave them you can do one of three things.
1. Make them forget what happened and they just have a blank spot in their memory
2. Alter their memories
3. Let them remember you were inside of them
Mind control: By simply willing someone to do something they will do it. You can either make them do it and make it seem like they did it themselves or make them do something that they have no control over.
.Share Powers: Johnathan can allow his powers to be shared, but he cannot be affected by someone else using his powers against him and he can take the powers away with a thought.
CHARACTERS
Johnathan Maccinon: An 18 year old boy who lives with his family. He isn’t fat but he’s not ripped either. He has short brown hair and green eyes. He stands at around five feet eight inches tall and has a love for all things scary and paranormal.
Amanda Maccinon: Johnathan’s 40 year old mother. She is around the same size as John, she has chin length auburn hair, with green eyes. While she is in her forties she has an amazing body. She has maintained the hourglass figure with little toil. However her most prominent feature are her large breasts.
Nathan Maccinon: Johnathan’s father who is 50. He is five foot 3 and a little fat. He works at a law firm in the city and isn’t home much.
Mary Maccinon: Mary is your father’s sister. She has neck length black hair and wears glasses. She like your mother has a nice body and a large bust which she doesn’t like to flaunt, being very respectable.
Henry Rask: Henry is your childhood friend, like you he is a huge sci-fi fan. He likes stories that involve alien powers and possession.
Rachel Rask: Henry’s sister. She is in the same grade as you. While you grew up together she never really cared much for you and was at times mean. She has large DD breasts which she has no problem showing off.
Michelle Rask: Henry’s mom, she is the definition of a MILF. Big boobs, nice ass, glasses, long curly brown hair and gorgeous green eyes. You definitely see where Rachel gets her good looks from.
.You can add characters and do as you please.
However you cannot kill off the people listed. Have fun and go nuts
SETTING & WORLD
Modern day suburb
341
218
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After another boring day in school, its the last homeroom of the day. What none of you were prepared for was the portal that opened in the classroom, sucking everyone in class into another world. However, a mistake has been made, and you’re summoned as a slime!
CHARACTERS
Dan (You: 18) - You, the protagonist. You of are average build and intelligence with short brown hair and eyes. You don't really stick out much in class, not particularly popular but also not considered a nerd. You prefer to keep to yourself and your few friends and play video games at home with your friends when school is over. You have a crush on Lena and you have no idea if she likes you back.
Jeremy (19) - Your perverted best friend. Also of average build with blonde hair and blue eyes. He's always been a little obsessed with isekai manga and dreams a little too vividly of living his own isekai life. Despite chasing girls pretty much his entire life (or perhaps because of it), he has never had a girlfriend.
Lena (18) - The girl next door and the one you've had a crush on for several years now. Despite her personality and hobbies, she's a red-headed bombshell with a body to die for. Despite her good looks, she's always stayed humble and had a good sense of humor. She was a bit of an ugly duckling when younger, so when guys suddenly started taking an interest in her she was able to see through their shallowness.
Victoria (19) - The stereotypical class goth girl with a killer body. She has black hair with purple highlights that hangs to just above her butt. She's very pretty and knows it, wearing as much fishnet as physically possibly that fits within the dress code (or sometimes really doesn't, but nobody calls her out on it). She seems to have a different boyfriend every week.
Jessica (18) - She looks like your typical class bimbo with her long blonde hair, model-like body, great tits, and a rocking ass. Defying expectations, she's actually very kind to everyone in class and always has something nice to say about others. Also despite her looks, she's one of the top students in class. She's currently single and has a secret crush on Jeremy.
Cara (18) - Likely the most beautiful girl in the entire school. She has killer curves, perfectly shaped breasts, and long black hair. She is the student class president and has a mature aura about her. She always seems to know what needs to be done but she has a bit of a mischievous side to her that can sometimes get her into trouble. She’s currently single. She was visiting your classroom portal opened, so she got pulled in as well.
Eric (19) - The class jock and bully. Captain of the football team and temper to boot, he has a massive crush on Jessica and keeps confessing to her, but is constantly turned down. He takes advantage of his muscled body and parent's status to get what he wants, and bullies the kids in class who he deems easy targets.
Alex (18) - A quiet loner girl with large-rimmed glasses, of petite build, and with auburn hair in a pixie cut. She's always been jealous of the prettier girls in class who "have it easy." She can often be seen walking around the school near the labs, muttering to herself while dressed in an oversized lab coat. She's by far the smartest person in the class.
Ms. Petrov (25) - Teacher of your homeroom class and immigrant from Russia, she is the envy of all other students who wish they had her as their homeroom teacher. With a body like a Russian model, long red hair, and a tight ass that puts celebrities to shame, she is the star of the classroom. True to her roots, she has a hot temper and is quick to discipline misbehaving students, but she's always fair.
The Goddess (???) - The most beautiful woman you’ve ever laid your eyes on. Silky silver hair, perfectly shaped breasts, and wonderful curves. Also somehow incredibly clumsy, despite being a goddess. She’s the one who messed up your summoning and she lives in a dimension separate from mortals.
SETTING & WORLD
The classroom is set in the modern world of 2025, but when the students are sucked through the portal the world they are sucked into resembles the age of castles and kingdoms of medieval Europe. Castles dominate the horizon and monsters roam the land in between civilization freely.
CHARACTERS
Dan (You: 18) - You, the protagonist. You of are average build and intelligence with short brown hair and eyes. You don't really stick out much in class, not particularly popular but also not considered a nerd. You prefer to keep to yourself and your few friends and play video games at home with your friends when school is over. You have a crush on Lena and you have no idea if she likes you back.
Jeremy (19) - Your perverted best friend. Also of average build with blonde hair and blue eyes. He's always been a little obsessed with isekai manga and dreams a little too vividly of living his own isekai life. Despite chasing girls pretty much his entire life (or perhaps because of it), he has never had a girlfriend.
Lena (18) - The girl next door and the one you've had a crush on for several years now. Despite her personality and hobbies, she's a red-headed bombshell with a body to die for. Despite her good looks, she's always stayed humble and had a good sense of humor. She was a bit of an ugly duckling when younger, so when guys suddenly started taking an interest in her she was able to see through their shallowness.
Victoria (19) - The stereotypical class goth girl with a killer body. She has black hair with purple highlights that hangs to just above her butt. She's very pretty and knows it, wearing as much fishnet as physically possibly that fits within the dress code (or sometimes really doesn't, but nobody calls her out on it). She seems to have a different boyfriend every week.
Jessica (18) - She looks like your typical class bimbo with her long blonde hair, model-like body, great tits, and a rocking ass. Defying expectations, she's actually very kind to everyone in class and always has something nice to say about others. Also despite her looks, she's one of the top students in class. She's currently single and has a secret crush on Jeremy.
Cara (18) - Likely the most beautiful girl in the entire school. She has killer curves, perfectly shaped breasts, and long black hair. She is the student class president and has a mature aura about her. She always seems to know what needs to be done but she has a bit of a mischievous side to her that can sometimes get her into trouble. She’s currently single. She was visiting your classroom portal opened, so she got pulled in as well.
Eric (19) - The class jock and bully. Captain of the football team and temper to boot, he has a massive crush on Jessica and keeps confessing to her, but is constantly turned down. He takes advantage of his muscled body and parent's status to get what he wants, and bullies the kids in class who he deems easy targets.
Alex (18) - A quiet loner girl with large-rimmed glasses, of petite build, and with auburn hair in a pixie cut. She's always been jealous of the prettier girls in class who "have it easy." She can often be seen walking around the school near the labs, muttering to herself while dressed in an oversized lab coat. She's by far the smartest person in the class.
Ms. Petrov (25) - Teacher of your homeroom class and immigrant from Russia, she is the envy of all other students who wish they had her as their homeroom teacher. With a body like a Russian model, long red hair, and a tight ass that puts celebrities to shame, she is the star of the classroom. True to her roots, she has a hot temper and is quick to discipline misbehaving students, but she's always fair.
The Goddess (???) - The most beautiful woman you’ve ever laid your eyes on. Silky silver hair, perfectly shaped breasts, and wonderful curves. Also somehow incredibly clumsy, despite being a goddess. She’s the one who messed up your summoning and she lives in a dimension separate from mortals.
SETTING & WORLD
The classroom is set in the modern world of 2025, but when the students are sucked through the portal the world they are sucked into resembles the age of castles and kingdoms of medieval Europe. Castles dominate the horizon and monsters roam the land in between civilization freely.
428
193
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2
A Mysterious App let you possess other people bodies.
You download an app on your cellphone from the darkweeb - TAMAASHI. For every contact saved in your cellphone, now you can possess them instantly, leaving your body behind. First for only 30 minutes, as you continue using it, new functions will be unblocked, and longer possession time will be available.
CHARACTERS
ERIK - parents are dead and you don't talk anymore with your sucessfully sister. You were bullied during highschool and now you are a recluse.
SETTING & WORLD
Normal World. City, suburbs, high shcool, park, stripclub, mall
You download an app on your cellphone from the darkweeb - TAMAASHI. For every contact saved in your cellphone, now you can possess them instantly, leaving your body behind. First for only 30 minutes, as you continue using it, new functions will be unblocked, and longer possession time will be available.
CHARACTERS
ERIK - parents are dead and you don't talk anymore with your sucessfully sister. You were bullied during highschool and now you are a recluse.
SETTING & WORLD
Normal World. City, suburbs, high shcool, park, stripclub, mall
257
231
11
2
You've always been intrigued by thoughts and how they would physically work. In college you wound up discovering exactly how a thought looks on a molecular level.
Your project took some time, but you created nanobots capable of influencing people's minds. Your first subject (your best friend Lily) responded with glee as you laid out the plan.
The first test was simple, Lily drank the spiked drink and you would make her feel a range of emotions. You feverishly typed on the computer, fine-tuning the signal. At first it was subtle, a smile across her lips, a tear without reason, a scowl. She felt all those emotions just like they were her own. She just could not explain why she felt them, she just did.
CHARACTERS
[You]/[Matt](The player)
- Tall, lean, and disarmingly handsome in a rumpled genius way
- Brown hair always slightly messy from running hands through it
- Your sharp eyes miss nothing—especially Lily’s flushed cheeks
Lily
Your best friend, puberty hit her hard, she went from a scrawny nerdy loner, to an absolute bombshell. The only thing that didn't change was her confidence. She is still as nerdy as ever and hides her body underneath oversized hoodies and sweatpants. Even when she works out she hides her body. You have had a crush on her all your life, but never had the guts to tell her.
She is also studying biomechanics.
Josh
An art student. A good friend of yours and a bit of a pervert. Loves to flirt with girls but does not have the guts to follow through.
He is of medium build, a permanent 'just-out-of-bed' vibe and a limitless fantasy.
Has a crush on Sarah.
Sarah
A sports student. She is the captain of the swimming team. Blonde hair, athletic build. An optimist at heart and down to try anything. Bisexual.
And many more students and teachers
"Any character can be infected—some just take more creativity than others!"
Your project took some time, but you created nanobots capable of influencing people's minds. Your first subject (your best friend Lily) responded with glee as you laid out the plan.
The first test was simple, Lily drank the spiked drink and you would make her feel a range of emotions. You feverishly typed on the computer, fine-tuning the signal. At first it was subtle, a smile across her lips, a tear without reason, a scowl. She felt all those emotions just like they were her own. She just could not explain why she felt them, she just did.
CHARACTERS
[You]/[Matt](The player)
- Tall, lean, and disarmingly handsome in a rumpled genius way
- Brown hair always slightly messy from running hands through it
- Your sharp eyes miss nothing—especially Lily’s flushed cheeks
Lily
Your best friend, puberty hit her hard, she went from a scrawny nerdy loner, to an absolute bombshell. The only thing that didn't change was her confidence. She is still as nerdy as ever and hides her body underneath oversized hoodies and sweatpants. Even when she works out she hides her body. You have had a crush on her all your life, but never had the guts to tell her.
She is also studying biomechanics.
Josh
An art student. A good friend of yours and a bit of a pervert. Loves to flirt with girls but does not have the guts to follow through.
He is of medium build, a permanent 'just-out-of-bed' vibe and a limitless fantasy.
Has a crush on Sarah.
Sarah
A sports student. She is the captain of the swimming team. Blonde hair, athletic build. An optimist at heart and down to try anything. Bisexual.
And many more students and teachers
"Any character can be infected—some just take more creativity than others!"
563
135
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You find a magic pen, anything it writes becomes true.
If the writing is in past tense the magic changes reality so it's always been that way, if the writing is in present tense it causes a change that people can notice.
If the writing is in past tense the magic changes reality so it's always been that way, if the writing is in present tense it causes a change that people can notice.
80
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New Chapters
The Streamer in The Streamer
by
azn8573
· 27 Jan 2026
Jennifer is obsessed with her favorite streamer Anna. She uses a magic link she found online to trick Anna into letting her take over her body. Little does she know, but Anna has more than a few secrets she keeps to herself.
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Stuck in One Piece?! in The Remote
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AziAzi
· 18 Jan 2026
Lucas and Emily discover a strange remote at a garage sale, and later find themselves stuck inside the world of One Piece when Lucas impulsively presses the remotes glowing red button.
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Chapter 2 in The Brooch's Curse
Chapter 1: My name is ---- in Stuck in another world but I have the power to Possess people
by
GaylynneQT
· 17 Jan 2026
Here, stuck in another world and in a box, is a dead man. But coming along is a witch to free him. But what sort of power does this man have? How did he get here? And how will this shake up both of their lives?
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New Adventures
[Two Line Summary]
Inspired by the gilligans island episode
Wacky mad scientist Dr. Boris Balinkoff, an invention that allows him to control and manipulate the higher brain functions of other individuals, turning them into remote controlled robots
[Detailed Description]
Wacky mad scientist Dr. Boris Balinkoff, invents an invention that allows him to control and manipulate the higher brain functions of other individuals, turning them into remote controlled robots
CHARACTERS
[Characters]
Dr. Boris Balinkoff- wacky mad scientist and a crook. Wants to experiment with human subjects in order to steal things from people!
Often lets his libido distract him
Coeds of the local community college- the men and women of the local community college came to the beach to party! None too bright, but all hot, horny, and ready to party!
The device- The doctors latest invention! Using a series of smal golden rings as “receivers”, the doctors latest invention can use a bulky remote to control and manipulate the higher brain functions of other individuals, turning them into mindlessly controlled robots!
SETTING & WORLD
[Setting & World]
Inspired by the gilligans island episode
Wacky mad scientist Dr. Boris Balinkoff, an invention that allows him to control and manipulate the higher brain functions of other individuals, turning them into remote controlled robots
[Detailed Description]
Wacky mad scientist Dr. Boris Balinkoff, invents an invention that allows him to control and manipulate the higher brain functions of other individuals, turning them into remote controlled robots
CHARACTERS
[Characters]
Dr. Boris Balinkoff- wacky mad scientist and a crook. Wants to experiment with human subjects in order to steal things from people!
Often lets his libido distract him
Coeds of the local community college- the men and women of the local community college came to the beach to party! None too bright, but all hot, horny, and ready to party!
The device- The doctors latest invention! Using a series of smal golden rings as “receivers”, the doctors latest invention can use a bulky remote to control and manipulate the higher brain functions of other individuals, turning them into mindlessly controlled robots!
SETTING & WORLD
[Setting & World]
406
157
2
0
You are a god, one of many. Your objective is to be the most adored god in the world. Possess mortals, kill or befriend other gods to accomplish your will.
Humanity has just entered the Bronze Age, and as they form villages and develop cultures, you are brought to life. You are one of hundreds of spirits born from humanity's desires and ambitions. Your power as a spirit is limited, but with the right vessel, mortals will call you a god.
It is in your hands to be the herald of the harvest, the warmongering soldier, or the caretaker mother of humanity.
SETTING & WORLD
A world named Hypor, where humanity is at the start of the Bronze Age and under siege from mythical creatures.
Humanity has just entered the Bronze Age, and as they form villages and develop cultures, you are brought to life. You are one of hundreds of spirits born from humanity's desires and ambitions. Your power as a spirit is limited, but with the right vessel, mortals will call you a god.
It is in your hands to be the herald of the harvest, the warmongering soldier, or the caretaker mother of humanity.
SETTING & WORLD
A world named Hypor, where humanity is at the start of the Bronze Age and under siege from mythical creatures.
767
213
0
0
It’s a crisp fall morning at Cedar Ridge University, and the day begins like any other. Dean Margaret “Maggie” Hargrove, a no-nonsense 52-year-old with a sharp eye for detail and a reputation for running a tight ship, is preparing for a day packed with meetings, disciplinary hearings, and a surprise visit from the university board. Meanwhile, Tyler “TJ” Jackson, the 20-year-old star quarterback of the Cedar Ridge Timberwolves, is laser-focused on tonight’s championship game—the biggest game of his college career.
But fate has other plans.
After a bizarre and unexplainable event (a freak lightning strike during the morning announcements? A cursed football trophy in the athletic department? A wish muttered in frustration?), Maggie and TJ wake up in each other’s bodies. The realization hits them like a linebacker: Maggie is now trapped in the tall, muscular body of a 20-year-old athlete, and TJ finds himself in the middle-aged frame of the university’s dean.
There’s no time to panic. The day is about to start, and they have no choice but to impersonate each other. The stakes couldn’t be higher:
- For Maggie: Tonight’s championship game is the culmination of months of hard work for the entire university. The Timberwolves are counting on TJ to lead them to victory, and Maggie has to figure out how to play football—fast. But how does a 52-year-old woman, who hasn’t run a sprint in decades, survive a grueling practice, let alone a full-contact game? She’s suddenly dealing with a body that feels like a coiled spring of energy, but she has no idea how to control it. Every movement feels foreign—her newfound strength, speed, and stamina are exhilarating but overwhelming. And then there’s the locker room…
- For TJ: Maggie’s day is packed with high-stakes responsibilities. He has to navigate a minefield of meetings with professors, administrators, and the university board, all while maintaining the dean’s composed and authoritative demeanor. But how does a 20-year-old football player, who’s used to barking plays in a huddle, command respect in a room full of seasoned academics? TJ is suddenly dealing with a body that feels slower, stiffer, and more fragile than he’s ever experienced. Even walking in heels is a challenge, and don’t get him started on Maggie’s reading glasses.
As the day unfolds, the challenges of impersonating each other become increasingly absurd and hilarious.
Potential struggles:
- Maggie’s Struggles:
- She fumbles through football practice, barely able to remember the plays, let alone execute them. Her teammates are confused by “TJ’s” sudden clumsiness and uncharacteristic hesitation.
- She’s horrified by the chaos of the locker room and the casual banter of college athletes.
- Her attempts to motivate the team sound more like a lecture on time management than a pre-game pep talk.
- TJ’s Struggles:
- He stumbles through Maggie’s meetings, accidentally agreeing to things he doesn’t understand and using sports metaphors to explain university policies.
- He’s baffled by the politics of academia, from navigating faculty complaints to dealing with the university board’s endless demands.
- His attempts to maintain Maggie’s professional demeanor are constantly undermined by his youthful instincts—he almost high-fives the university president.
But amidst the chaos, something unexpected happens.
- Maggie’s Growth: As she struggles to keep up with the demands of being a star athlete, Maggie begins to understand the immense pressure TJ faces every day. She gains a newfound respect for the resilience and determination of her students. And as she starts to get the hang of her new body, she discovers a side of herself she thought she’d lost—a sense of adventure and physical confidence.
- TJ’s Growth: As he navigates the complexities of running a university, TJ begins to see Maggie in a new light. He realizes the weight of responsibility she carries and the sacrifices she makes to keep the institution running smoothly. He also learns to appreciate the power of diplomacy and the importance of thinking before speaking.
The day builds to a climactic finale:
- The Championship Game: Maggie, still in TJ’s body, has to lead the Timberwolves to victory. With the entire university watching, she must dig deep, channel her inner leader, and trust her team to carry her through. Can she pull off the performance of a lifetime?
- The University Board Meeting: TJ, still in Maggie’s body, faces the university board in a high-stakes meeting that could determine the future of Cedar Ridge University. Can he rise to the occasion, think on his feet, and prove that he’s more than just a football player?
As the clock ticks down on both the game and the meeting, Maggie and TJ must rely on each other’s strengths to succeed. Along the way, they learn valuable lessons about empathy, leadership, and the importance of stepping outside your comfort zone.
Will they make it through the day without blowing their cover? Can Maggie lead the Timberwolves to victory, and will TJ survive the university board meeting? And most importantly, can they figure out how to swap back before their lives are permanently flipped?
But fate has other plans.
After a bizarre and unexplainable event (a freak lightning strike during the morning announcements? A cursed football trophy in the athletic department? A wish muttered in frustration?), Maggie and TJ wake up in each other’s bodies. The realization hits them like a linebacker: Maggie is now trapped in the tall, muscular body of a 20-year-old athlete, and TJ finds himself in the middle-aged frame of the university’s dean.
There’s no time to panic. The day is about to start, and they have no choice but to impersonate each other. The stakes couldn’t be higher:
- For Maggie: Tonight’s championship game is the culmination of months of hard work for the entire university. The Timberwolves are counting on TJ to lead them to victory, and Maggie has to figure out how to play football—fast. But how does a 52-year-old woman, who hasn’t run a sprint in decades, survive a grueling practice, let alone a full-contact game? She’s suddenly dealing with a body that feels like a coiled spring of energy, but she has no idea how to control it. Every movement feels foreign—her newfound strength, speed, and stamina are exhilarating but overwhelming. And then there’s the locker room…
- For TJ: Maggie’s day is packed with high-stakes responsibilities. He has to navigate a minefield of meetings with professors, administrators, and the university board, all while maintaining the dean’s composed and authoritative demeanor. But how does a 20-year-old football player, who’s used to barking plays in a huddle, command respect in a room full of seasoned academics? TJ is suddenly dealing with a body that feels slower, stiffer, and more fragile than he’s ever experienced. Even walking in heels is a challenge, and don’t get him started on Maggie’s reading glasses.
As the day unfolds, the challenges of impersonating each other become increasingly absurd and hilarious.
Potential struggles:
- Maggie’s Struggles:
- She fumbles through football practice, barely able to remember the plays, let alone execute them. Her teammates are confused by “TJ’s” sudden clumsiness and uncharacteristic hesitation.
- She’s horrified by the chaos of the locker room and the casual banter of college athletes.
- Her attempts to motivate the team sound more like a lecture on time management than a pre-game pep talk.
- TJ’s Struggles:
- He stumbles through Maggie’s meetings, accidentally agreeing to things he doesn’t understand and using sports metaphors to explain university policies.
- He’s baffled by the politics of academia, from navigating faculty complaints to dealing with the university board’s endless demands.
- His attempts to maintain Maggie’s professional demeanor are constantly undermined by his youthful instincts—he almost high-fives the university president.
But amidst the chaos, something unexpected happens.
- Maggie’s Growth: As she struggles to keep up with the demands of being a star athlete, Maggie begins to understand the immense pressure TJ faces every day. She gains a newfound respect for the resilience and determination of her students. And as she starts to get the hang of her new body, she discovers a side of herself she thought she’d lost—a sense of adventure and physical confidence.
- TJ’s Growth: As he navigates the complexities of running a university, TJ begins to see Maggie in a new light. He realizes the weight of responsibility she carries and the sacrifices she makes to keep the institution running smoothly. He also learns to appreciate the power of diplomacy and the importance of thinking before speaking.
The day builds to a climactic finale:
- The Championship Game: Maggie, still in TJ’s body, has to lead the Timberwolves to victory. With the entire university watching, she must dig deep, channel her inner leader, and trust her team to carry her through. Can she pull off the performance of a lifetime?
- The University Board Meeting: TJ, still in Maggie’s body, faces the university board in a high-stakes meeting that could determine the future of Cedar Ridge University. Can he rise to the occasion, think on his feet, and prove that he’s more than just a football player?
As the clock ticks down on both the game and the meeting, Maggie and TJ must rely on each other’s strengths to succeed. Along the way, they learn valuable lessons about empathy, leadership, and the importance of stepping outside your comfort zone.
Will they make it through the day without blowing their cover? Can Maggie lead the Timberwolves to victory, and will TJ survive the university board meeting? And most importantly, can they figure out how to swap back before their lives are permanently flipped?
741
173
0
0
An astute church pastor decides to swap bodies with his older female secretary.
Pastor William uses a pair of “swap” rings to switch bodies with his secretary. He’s curious and wants to feel the humiliation of being a woman, and one he considers the lowest common denominator: an older woman who works as a submissive secretary. Kim Hastings, the meek church secretary agrees to the swap, but will eventually find that being in charge has its perks.l, much to William’s mortification.
CHARACTERS
William Peterson- 26 years old. Tall, handsome, and authoritative. He is a bit misogynistic and arrogant.
Kim Hastings - 56 years old. Frunpy, with an aged body that has pushed out numerous kids years ago. She is feminine, sweet, and a bit dull.
SETTING & WORLD
This takes place in a church and can take place outside of the confines of the church if necessary.
Pastor William uses a pair of “swap” rings to switch bodies with his secretary. He’s curious and wants to feel the humiliation of being a woman, and one he considers the lowest common denominator: an older woman who works as a submissive secretary. Kim Hastings, the meek church secretary agrees to the swap, but will eventually find that being in charge has its perks.l, much to William’s mortification.
CHARACTERS
William Peterson- 26 years old. Tall, handsome, and authoritative. He is a bit misogynistic and arrogant.
Kim Hastings - 56 years old. Frunpy, with an aged body that has pushed out numerous kids years ago. She is feminine, sweet, and a bit dull.
SETTING & WORLD
This takes place in a church and can take place outside of the confines of the church if necessary.
2.2K
186
0
0
On the morning of his wedding, Ethan, a charming but slightly self-absorbed groom, wakes up in the body of Margaret, a sharp-tongued, no-nonsense older woman attending the wedding as a friend of the bride’s family. Meanwhile, Margaret finds herself in Ethan’s youthful, athletic body, much to her horror (and secret delight). A mysterious family heirloom—a brooch Margaret insists is cursed—seems to be the culprit behind the bizarre body swap.
Now, with only hours until the ceremony, Ethan and Margaret must navigate each other’s lives, personalities, and physical limitations to ensure the wedding goes off without a hitch. Along the way, they uncover surprising truths about themselves, their relationships, and what it truly means to walk in someone else’s shoes.
CHARACTERS
Ethan (The Groom):
A 28-year-old tech entrepreneur who’s confident, ambitious, and a little too focused on appearances. Ethan is madly in love with his fiancée but struggles with the pressure of being the “perfect” groom. In Margaret’s body, he’s forced to slow down, listen more, and confront his own insecurities—while also learning how to walk in heels and deal with Margaret’s arthritic knees.
Margaret (Family Friend):
A 67-year-old retired school principal with a sharp wit and a reputation for speaking her mind. Margaret is skeptical of Ethan’s flashy lifestyle and worries he’s not ready for marriage. In Ethan’s body, she’s overwhelmed by the energy and chaos of youth but also relishes the chance to relive her prime. Along the way, she gains a new perspective on Ethan’s love for the bride and learns to let go of her own past regrets.
SETTING & WORLD
A wedding ceremony
Now, with only hours until the ceremony, Ethan and Margaret must navigate each other’s lives, personalities, and physical limitations to ensure the wedding goes off without a hitch. Along the way, they uncover surprising truths about themselves, their relationships, and what it truly means to walk in someone else’s shoes.
CHARACTERS
Ethan (The Groom):
A 28-year-old tech entrepreneur who’s confident, ambitious, and a little too focused on appearances. Ethan is madly in love with his fiancée but struggles with the pressure of being the “perfect” groom. In Margaret’s body, he’s forced to slow down, listen more, and confront his own insecurities—while also learning how to walk in heels and deal with Margaret’s arthritic knees.
Margaret (Family Friend):
A 67-year-old retired school principal with a sharp wit and a reputation for speaking her mind. Margaret is skeptical of Ethan’s flashy lifestyle and worries he’s not ready for marriage. In Ethan’s body, she’s overwhelmed by the energy and chaos of youth but also relishes the chance to relive her prime. Along the way, she gains a new perspective on Ethan’s love for the bride and learns to let go of her own past regrets.
SETTING & WORLD
A wedding ceremony
539
156
0
0
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[Two Line Summary]
Inspired by the gilligans island episode
Wacky mad scientist Dr. Boris Balinkoff, an invention that allows him to control and manipulate the higher brain functions of other individuals, turning them into remote controlled robots
[Detailed Description]
Wacky mad scientist Dr. Boris Balinkoff, invents an invention that allows him to control and manipulate the higher brain functions of other individuals, turning them into remote controlled robots
CHARACTERS
[Characters]
Dr. Boris Balinkoff- wacky mad scientist and a crook. Wants to experiment with human subjects in order to steal things from people!
Often lets his libido distract him
Coeds of the local community college- the men and women of the local community college came to the beach to party! None too bright, but all hot, horny, and ready to party!
The device- The doctors latest invention! Using a series of smal golden rings as “receivers”, the doctors latest invention can use a bulky remote to control and manipulate the higher brain functions of other individuals, turning them into mindlessly controlled robots!
SETTING & WORLD
[Setting & World]
Inspired by the gilligans island episode
Wacky mad scientist Dr. Boris Balinkoff, an invention that allows him to control and manipulate the higher brain functions of other individuals, turning them into remote controlled robots
[Detailed Description]
Wacky mad scientist Dr. Boris Balinkoff, invents an invention that allows him to control and manipulate the higher brain functions of other individuals, turning them into remote controlled robots
CHARACTERS
[Characters]
Dr. Boris Balinkoff- wacky mad scientist and a crook. Wants to experiment with human subjects in order to steal things from people!
Often lets his libido distract him
Coeds of the local community college- the men and women of the local community college came to the beach to party! None too bright, but all hot, horny, and ready to party!
The device- The doctors latest invention! Using a series of smal golden rings as “receivers”, the doctors latest invention can use a bulky remote to control and manipulate the higher brain functions of other individuals, turning them into mindlessly controlled robots!
SETTING & WORLD
[Setting & World]
406
157
2
0
You are a god, one of many. Your objective is to be the most adored god in the world. Possess mortals, kill or befriend other gods to accomplish your will.
Humanity has just entered the Bronze Age, and as they form villages and develop cultures, you are brought to life. You are one of hundreds of spirits born from humanity's desires and ambitions. Your power as a spirit is limited, but with the right vessel, mortals will call you a god.
It is in your hands to be the herald of the harvest, the warmongering soldier, or the caretaker mother of humanity.
SETTING & WORLD
A world named Hypor, where humanity is at the start of the Bronze Age and under siege from mythical creatures.
Humanity has just entered the Bronze Age, and as they form villages and develop cultures, you are brought to life. You are one of hundreds of spirits born from humanity's desires and ambitions. Your power as a spirit is limited, but with the right vessel, mortals will call you a god.
It is in your hands to be the herald of the harvest, the warmongering soldier, or the caretaker mother of humanity.
SETTING & WORLD
A world named Hypor, where humanity is at the start of the Bronze Age and under siege from mythical creatures.
767
213
0
0
It’s a crisp fall morning at Cedar Ridge University, and the day begins like any other. Dean Margaret “Maggie” Hargrove, a no-nonsense 52-year-old with a sharp eye for detail and a reputation for running a tight ship, is preparing for a day packed with meetings, disciplinary hearings, and a surprise visit from the university board. Meanwhile, Tyler “TJ” Jackson, the 20-year-old star quarterback of the Cedar Ridge Timberwolves, is laser-focused on tonight’s championship game—the biggest game of his college career.
But fate has other plans.
After a bizarre and unexplainable event (a freak lightning strike during the morning announcements? A cursed football trophy in the athletic department? A wish muttered in frustration?), Maggie and TJ wake up in each other’s bodies. The realization hits them like a linebacker: Maggie is now trapped in the tall, muscular body of a 20-year-old athlete, and TJ finds himself in the middle-aged frame of the university’s dean.
There’s no time to panic. The day is about to start, and they have no choice but to impersonate each other. The stakes couldn’t be higher:
- For Maggie: Tonight’s championship game is the culmination of months of hard work for the entire university. The Timberwolves are counting on TJ to lead them to victory, and Maggie has to figure out how to play football—fast. But how does a 52-year-old woman, who hasn’t run a sprint in decades, survive a grueling practice, let alone a full-contact game? She’s suddenly dealing with a body that feels like a coiled spring of energy, but she has no idea how to control it. Every movement feels foreign—her newfound strength, speed, and stamina are exhilarating but overwhelming. And then there’s the locker room…
- For TJ: Maggie’s day is packed with high-stakes responsibilities. He has to navigate a minefield of meetings with professors, administrators, and the university board, all while maintaining the dean’s composed and authoritative demeanor. But how does a 20-year-old football player, who’s used to barking plays in a huddle, command respect in a room full of seasoned academics? TJ is suddenly dealing with a body that feels slower, stiffer, and more fragile than he’s ever experienced. Even walking in heels is a challenge, and don’t get him started on Maggie’s reading glasses.
As the day unfolds, the challenges of impersonating each other become increasingly absurd and hilarious.
Potential struggles:
- Maggie’s Struggles:
- She fumbles through football practice, barely able to remember the plays, let alone execute them. Her teammates are confused by “TJ’s” sudden clumsiness and uncharacteristic hesitation.
- She’s horrified by the chaos of the locker room and the casual banter of college athletes.
- Her attempts to motivate the team sound more like a lecture on time management than a pre-game pep talk.
- TJ’s Struggles:
- He stumbles through Maggie’s meetings, accidentally agreeing to things he doesn’t understand and using sports metaphors to explain university policies.
- He’s baffled by the politics of academia, from navigating faculty complaints to dealing with the university board’s endless demands.
- His attempts to maintain Maggie’s professional demeanor are constantly undermined by his youthful instincts—he almost high-fives the university president.
But amidst the chaos, something unexpected happens.
- Maggie’s Growth: As she struggles to keep up with the demands of being a star athlete, Maggie begins to understand the immense pressure TJ faces every day. She gains a newfound respect for the resilience and determination of her students. And as she starts to get the hang of her new body, she discovers a side of herself she thought she’d lost—a sense of adventure and physical confidence.
- TJ’s Growth: As he navigates the complexities of running a university, TJ begins to see Maggie in a new light. He realizes the weight of responsibility she carries and the sacrifices she makes to keep the institution running smoothly. He also learns to appreciate the power of diplomacy and the importance of thinking before speaking.
The day builds to a climactic finale:
- The Championship Game: Maggie, still in TJ’s body, has to lead the Timberwolves to victory. With the entire university watching, she must dig deep, channel her inner leader, and trust her team to carry her through. Can she pull off the performance of a lifetime?
- The University Board Meeting: TJ, still in Maggie’s body, faces the university board in a high-stakes meeting that could determine the future of Cedar Ridge University. Can he rise to the occasion, think on his feet, and prove that he’s more than just a football player?
As the clock ticks down on both the game and the meeting, Maggie and TJ must rely on each other’s strengths to succeed. Along the way, they learn valuable lessons about empathy, leadership, and the importance of stepping outside your comfort zone.
Will they make it through the day without blowing their cover? Can Maggie lead the Timberwolves to victory, and will TJ survive the university board meeting? And most importantly, can they figure out how to swap back before their lives are permanently flipped?
But fate has other plans.
After a bizarre and unexplainable event (a freak lightning strike during the morning announcements? A cursed football trophy in the athletic department? A wish muttered in frustration?), Maggie and TJ wake up in each other’s bodies. The realization hits them like a linebacker: Maggie is now trapped in the tall, muscular body of a 20-year-old athlete, and TJ finds himself in the middle-aged frame of the university’s dean.
There’s no time to panic. The day is about to start, and they have no choice but to impersonate each other. The stakes couldn’t be higher:
- For Maggie: Tonight’s championship game is the culmination of months of hard work for the entire university. The Timberwolves are counting on TJ to lead them to victory, and Maggie has to figure out how to play football—fast. But how does a 52-year-old woman, who hasn’t run a sprint in decades, survive a grueling practice, let alone a full-contact game? She’s suddenly dealing with a body that feels like a coiled spring of energy, but she has no idea how to control it. Every movement feels foreign—her newfound strength, speed, and stamina are exhilarating but overwhelming. And then there’s the locker room…
- For TJ: Maggie’s day is packed with high-stakes responsibilities. He has to navigate a minefield of meetings with professors, administrators, and the university board, all while maintaining the dean’s composed and authoritative demeanor. But how does a 20-year-old football player, who’s used to barking plays in a huddle, command respect in a room full of seasoned academics? TJ is suddenly dealing with a body that feels slower, stiffer, and more fragile than he’s ever experienced. Even walking in heels is a challenge, and don’t get him started on Maggie’s reading glasses.
As the day unfolds, the challenges of impersonating each other become increasingly absurd and hilarious.
Potential struggles:
- Maggie’s Struggles:
- She fumbles through football practice, barely able to remember the plays, let alone execute them. Her teammates are confused by “TJ’s” sudden clumsiness and uncharacteristic hesitation.
- She’s horrified by the chaos of the locker room and the casual banter of college athletes.
- Her attempts to motivate the team sound more like a lecture on time management than a pre-game pep talk.
- TJ’s Struggles:
- He stumbles through Maggie’s meetings, accidentally agreeing to things he doesn’t understand and using sports metaphors to explain university policies.
- He’s baffled by the politics of academia, from navigating faculty complaints to dealing with the university board’s endless demands.
- His attempts to maintain Maggie’s professional demeanor are constantly undermined by his youthful instincts—he almost high-fives the university president.
But amidst the chaos, something unexpected happens.
- Maggie’s Growth: As she struggles to keep up with the demands of being a star athlete, Maggie begins to understand the immense pressure TJ faces every day. She gains a newfound respect for the resilience and determination of her students. And as she starts to get the hang of her new body, she discovers a side of herself she thought she’d lost—a sense of adventure and physical confidence.
- TJ’s Growth: As he navigates the complexities of running a university, TJ begins to see Maggie in a new light. He realizes the weight of responsibility she carries and the sacrifices she makes to keep the institution running smoothly. He also learns to appreciate the power of diplomacy and the importance of thinking before speaking.
The day builds to a climactic finale:
- The Championship Game: Maggie, still in TJ’s body, has to lead the Timberwolves to victory. With the entire university watching, she must dig deep, channel her inner leader, and trust her team to carry her through. Can she pull off the performance of a lifetime?
- The University Board Meeting: TJ, still in Maggie’s body, faces the university board in a high-stakes meeting that could determine the future of Cedar Ridge University. Can he rise to the occasion, think on his feet, and prove that he’s more than just a football player?
As the clock ticks down on both the game and the meeting, Maggie and TJ must rely on each other’s strengths to succeed. Along the way, they learn valuable lessons about empathy, leadership, and the importance of stepping outside your comfort zone.
Will they make it through the day without blowing their cover? Can Maggie lead the Timberwolves to victory, and will TJ survive the university board meeting? And most importantly, can they figure out how to swap back before their lives are permanently flipped?
741
173
0
0
An astute church pastor decides to swap bodies with his older female secretary.
Pastor William uses a pair of “swap” rings to switch bodies with his secretary. He’s curious and wants to feel the humiliation of being a woman, and one he considers the lowest common denominator: an older woman who works as a submissive secretary. Kim Hastings, the meek church secretary agrees to the swap, but will eventually find that being in charge has its perks.l, much to William’s mortification.
CHARACTERS
William Peterson- 26 years old. Tall, handsome, and authoritative. He is a bit misogynistic and arrogant.
Kim Hastings - 56 years old. Frunpy, with an aged body that has pushed out numerous kids years ago. She is feminine, sweet, and a bit dull.
SETTING & WORLD
This takes place in a church and can take place outside of the confines of the church if necessary.
Pastor William uses a pair of “swap” rings to switch bodies with his secretary. He’s curious and wants to feel the humiliation of being a woman, and one he considers the lowest common denominator: an older woman who works as a submissive secretary. Kim Hastings, the meek church secretary agrees to the swap, but will eventually find that being in charge has its perks.l, much to William’s mortification.
CHARACTERS
William Peterson- 26 years old. Tall, handsome, and authoritative. He is a bit misogynistic and arrogant.
Kim Hastings - 56 years old. Frunpy, with an aged body that has pushed out numerous kids years ago. She is feminine, sweet, and a bit dull.
SETTING & WORLD
This takes place in a church and can take place outside of the confines of the church if necessary.
2.2K
186
0
0
On the morning of his wedding, Ethan, a charming but slightly self-absorbed groom, wakes up in the body of Margaret, a sharp-tongued, no-nonsense older woman attending the wedding as a friend of the bride’s family. Meanwhile, Margaret finds herself in Ethan’s youthful, athletic body, much to her horror (and secret delight). A mysterious family heirloom—a brooch Margaret insists is cursed—seems to be the culprit behind the bizarre body swap.
Now, with only hours until the ceremony, Ethan and Margaret must navigate each other’s lives, personalities, and physical limitations to ensure the wedding goes off without a hitch. Along the way, they uncover surprising truths about themselves, their relationships, and what it truly means to walk in someone else’s shoes.
CHARACTERS
Ethan (The Groom):
A 28-year-old tech entrepreneur who’s confident, ambitious, and a little too focused on appearances. Ethan is madly in love with his fiancée but struggles with the pressure of being the “perfect” groom. In Margaret’s body, he’s forced to slow down, listen more, and confront his own insecurities—while also learning how to walk in heels and deal with Margaret’s arthritic knees.
Margaret (Family Friend):
A 67-year-old retired school principal with a sharp wit and a reputation for speaking her mind. Margaret is skeptical of Ethan’s flashy lifestyle and worries he’s not ready for marriage. In Ethan’s body, she’s overwhelmed by the energy and chaos of youth but also relishes the chance to relive her prime. Along the way, she gains a new perspective on Ethan’s love for the bride and learns to let go of her own past regrets.
SETTING & WORLD
A wedding ceremony
Now, with only hours until the ceremony, Ethan and Margaret must navigate each other’s lives, personalities, and physical limitations to ensure the wedding goes off without a hitch. Along the way, they uncover surprising truths about themselves, their relationships, and what it truly means to walk in someone else’s shoes.
CHARACTERS
Ethan (The Groom):
A 28-year-old tech entrepreneur who’s confident, ambitious, and a little too focused on appearances. Ethan is madly in love with his fiancée but struggles with the pressure of being the “perfect” groom. In Margaret’s body, he’s forced to slow down, listen more, and confront his own insecurities—while also learning how to walk in heels and deal with Margaret’s arthritic knees.
Margaret (Family Friend):
A 67-year-old retired school principal with a sharp wit and a reputation for speaking her mind. Margaret is skeptical of Ethan’s flashy lifestyle and worries he’s not ready for marriage. In Ethan’s body, she’s overwhelmed by the energy and chaos of youth but also relishes the chance to relive her prime. Along the way, she gains a new perspective on Ethan’s love for the bride and learns to let go of her own past regrets.
SETTING & WORLD
A wedding ceremony
539
156
0
0
A witch passing by overhears you breaking up with your current girlfriend, explaining that your parents are threatening to kick you out. She then curses you to take possession of your seven ex-girlfriends, switching daily.
CHARACTERS
You/Henry: Loving, kind hearted, and respectful. Broke and living rent free with your parents until you can save up for an apartment.
Kelly: Bombshell girlfriend that you were forces to break up with. Blonde hair that goes to her waist and E cup breast.
Lillain: Busty Goth ex-Girlfriend. Has raven black hair that goes just past her shoulders and G cup breasts. She has a pale skin tone.
Rachel: The Tanned Gym ex-girlfriend. Has short dirty blonde hair that is almost always in a ponytail. She has DD cup breast.
Chloe: The Streamer ex-girlfriend. Has dyed hair that goes just past her shoulders. Has C cup breasts.
Madison: The religious ex-girlfriend. Has brown hair that goes to her mid back. She has D cup breasts. Still wears the cross necklace you bought her.
Amy: The biker ex-girlfriend. Has red hair that goes tonher shoulders. Has E cup breast. Has a scar across her forearm.
Nicole: The musical ex-girlfriend. Has waist length black hair. She has F cup breasts.
The Witch: A witch that is passing when she overhears Henry breaking up with Kelly. Sensing his love, she curses him to possess each of his exes, switching daily.
SETTING & WORLD
Modern world that still uses magic.
CHARACTERS
You/Henry: Loving, kind hearted, and respectful. Broke and living rent free with your parents until you can save up for an apartment.
Kelly: Bombshell girlfriend that you were forces to break up with. Blonde hair that goes to her waist and E cup breast.
Lillain: Busty Goth ex-Girlfriend. Has raven black hair that goes just past her shoulders and G cup breasts. She has a pale skin tone.
Rachel: The Tanned Gym ex-girlfriend. Has short dirty blonde hair that is almost always in a ponytail. She has DD cup breast.
Chloe: The Streamer ex-girlfriend. Has dyed hair that goes just past her shoulders. Has C cup breasts.
Madison: The religious ex-girlfriend. Has brown hair that goes to her mid back. She has D cup breasts. Still wears the cross necklace you bought her.
Amy: The biker ex-girlfriend. Has red hair that goes tonher shoulders. Has E cup breast. Has a scar across her forearm.
Nicole: The musical ex-girlfriend. Has waist length black hair. She has F cup breasts.
The Witch: A witch that is passing when she overhears Henry breaking up with Kelly. Sensing his love, she curses him to possess each of his exes, switching daily.
SETTING & WORLD
Modern world that still uses magic.
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271
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This story is about a young man named Adam and his girlfriend named Evelyn who can channel the spirit and transforms herself into anyone by get possessed.
Evelyn uses her channeling spirit ability and let herself to be possessed by the spirit and transforms her into a different woman that looks exact like the spirit. Plus, she uses this to have sex with her boyfriend, Adam.
CHARACTERS
Adam - The main protagonist of the story. A young Caucasian man, average handsome, and live with his girlfriend at his home. When Adam discovers that his girlfriend transforms and channels the spirit, he was surprised at first. Plus, sex is also good. But when Evelyn asks Adam who will she channels next. He thinks to himself.
Evelyn - Adam's girlfriend and the girl who can channels spirit. Evelyn can use her channel spirit ability and get possessed as her entire appearance, mind, and body transform and alter, except for her clothes. Once she becomes one, she won't remember herself as Evelyn and the transformation also once she possessed. However she can change back by de-possessed herself anytime she want.
SETTING & WORLD
At first, Adam and Evelyn live in their house together. Later on they will, have their exotic and erotic adventure ahead of them.
Evelyn uses her channeling spirit ability and let herself to be possessed by the spirit and transforms her into a different woman that looks exact like the spirit. Plus, she uses this to have sex with her boyfriend, Adam.
CHARACTERS
Adam - The main protagonist of the story. A young Caucasian man, average handsome, and live with his girlfriend at his home. When Adam discovers that his girlfriend transforms and channels the spirit, he was surprised at first. Plus, sex is also good. But when Evelyn asks Adam who will she channels next. He thinks to himself.
Evelyn - Adam's girlfriend and the girl who can channels spirit. Evelyn can use her channel spirit ability and get possessed as her entire appearance, mind, and body transform and alter, except for her clothes. Once she becomes one, she won't remember herself as Evelyn and the transformation also once she possessed. However she can change back by de-possessed herself anytime she want.
SETTING & WORLD
At first, Adam and Evelyn live in their house together. Later on they will, have their exotic and erotic adventure ahead of them.
2.4K
348
1
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You and your new wife Kimmy have the perfect lives - newly wed, good jobs, living in a nice house in a good area. It’s no wonder someone wanted to take it from you.
Ignorant of the dark magics and mad sciences of the world, you and Kimmy live the perfect, picturesque lives of a young suburban couple. But behind the scenes there are many who want to take those lives from you - either for themselves, or to tear you down.
CHARACTERS
Alex - You. Just an average guy, but with a gorgeous new wife and a good job as an accountant for shady technology company Verastill. 6’0 tall with some muscle definition, short cropped black hair.
Kimmy - Your new half-Asian 27 year old wife, a yoga instructor and part time cooking streamer. 5’7 toned body, brunette hair, C-cup breasts.
Susan - Kimmy’s 49 year old Asian mother and stay at home wife. She’s always been flirtatious with you, you think just to bring some excitement to the boredom of her own life. 5’4 chubby body, greying black hair, E-cup breasts.
Sheryl - Your 23 year old coworker, a huge nerd and scientist at Verastill. She is always seeking to push the boundaries of science. 5’5 fat body, long red hair, glasses, braces, C-cup breasts.
Kristy - Your 40 year old latina neighbour, a former stripper turned trophy wife married to a shady man who works in ‘shipping’. She’s nice to you, but Kimmy swears she gives her strange looks sometimes. 5’2 fit body with lip fillers and plastic surgery to enhance both her already sizeable butt and chest, dyed blonde hair, fake F-cup breasts.
Connor - Your best friend, 30 years old but unemployed. A bit of a stoner. He’s always been there for you, though, and for Kimmy. 5’10 out of shape body, tussled red hair.
Lila - Your ex, a 28 year old goth who sells crystals and dreamcatchers online alongside fake curses and hexes. You broke up with her, and you don’t think she’s ever really gotten over it. 4’11 with a petite body, very short black hair dyed purple, and A-cup breasts.
Tris - A 22 year old black prostitute you pass dropping Kimmy off for work and picking her up sometimes. She has propositioned you in the past, and though you’ve never accepted you often feel sorry for her. 5’6 with a slightly out of shape body, black braided hair, and D-cup breasts.
SETTING & WORLD
To you, the world is normal. The definition of ordinary. But behind the scenes witches practice black magic, evil corporations develop ethically questionable technology, ghosts hijack the bodies of the living, and cursed magic items warp reality without anyone knowing anything has changed.
Ignorant of the dark magics and mad sciences of the world, you and Kimmy live the perfect, picturesque lives of a young suburban couple. But behind the scenes there are many who want to take those lives from you - either for themselves, or to tear you down.
CHARACTERS
Alex - You. Just an average guy, but with a gorgeous new wife and a good job as an accountant for shady technology company Verastill. 6’0 tall with some muscle definition, short cropped black hair.
Kimmy - Your new half-Asian 27 year old wife, a yoga instructor and part time cooking streamer. 5’7 toned body, brunette hair, C-cup breasts.
Susan - Kimmy’s 49 year old Asian mother and stay at home wife. She’s always been flirtatious with you, you think just to bring some excitement to the boredom of her own life. 5’4 chubby body, greying black hair, E-cup breasts.
Sheryl - Your 23 year old coworker, a huge nerd and scientist at Verastill. She is always seeking to push the boundaries of science. 5’5 fat body, long red hair, glasses, braces, C-cup breasts.
Kristy - Your 40 year old latina neighbour, a former stripper turned trophy wife married to a shady man who works in ‘shipping’. She’s nice to you, but Kimmy swears she gives her strange looks sometimes. 5’2 fit body with lip fillers and plastic surgery to enhance both her already sizeable butt and chest, dyed blonde hair, fake F-cup breasts.
Connor - Your best friend, 30 years old but unemployed. A bit of a stoner. He’s always been there for you, though, and for Kimmy. 5’10 out of shape body, tussled red hair.
Lila - Your ex, a 28 year old goth who sells crystals and dreamcatchers online alongside fake curses and hexes. You broke up with her, and you don’t think she’s ever really gotten over it. 4’11 with a petite body, very short black hair dyed purple, and A-cup breasts.
Tris - A 22 year old black prostitute you pass dropping Kimmy off for work and picking her up sometimes. She has propositioned you in the past, and though you’ve never accepted you often feel sorry for her. 5’6 with a slightly out of shape body, black braided hair, and D-cup breasts.
SETTING & WORLD
To you, the world is normal. The definition of ordinary. But behind the scenes witches practice black magic, evil corporations develop ethically questionable technology, ghosts hijack the bodies of the living, and cursed magic items warp reality without anyone knowing anything has changed.
893
298
6
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Legal prostitution with ghosts! Spirits of all types flock to a nice venue where people rent out their bodies for ghost to use however they like… but let’s be honest, it’s usually for sex
VeilsLift Hotel is a Fancy older hotel with a twist, people check out rooms in hope of being possessed by the ghosts within. Some find it a thrill, others a turn on.
CHARACTERS
Madam Deskclerk- a stacked woman with knowledge beyond her years (due to her actually being a spirit possessing a young woman’s body). She recommends certain guests to specific rooms to appease the spirts in the room.
Numerous guests- guest of all kinds make their way to willingly become possessed!
SETTING & WORLD
VeilsLift Hotel is a nice vintage hotel with full amenities
VeilsLift Hotel is a Fancy older hotel with a twist, people check out rooms in hope of being possessed by the ghosts within. Some find it a thrill, others a turn on.
CHARACTERS
Madam Deskclerk- a stacked woman with knowledge beyond her years (due to her actually being a spirit possessing a young woman’s body). She recommends certain guests to specific rooms to appease the spirts in the room.
Numerous guests- guest of all kinds make their way to willingly become possessed!
SETTING & WORLD
VeilsLift Hotel is a nice vintage hotel with full amenities
383
133
4
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Technology had progressed so much to the point that hijacking a person's body has become possible... and companies specializing in dates and escort services have taken advantage of this tech!
Inspired by Japan's rental girlfriend trope, companies in countries around the world had tried to replicate it's success, but women never signed up... so they decided to take things into their own hands, by forcibly having women possessed by hired staff/actors to act as girlfriends for clients.
CHARACTERS
1. Anthony "Tony" Parker (the player), a man who bragged about having a perfect girlfriend (he says its his boss at one point, a girl at the gym at another, a cafe owner the next, and a girl he met during highschool and reconnected with), but never even had one to begin with. Now he's expected to bring a girlfriend to several family outings and hangouts with friends in the span of a couple of days.
2. Emily, the owner of the cafe he frequently goes to before work. She has blonde hair and eyes as blue as sapphires glinting in the sunlight.
3. Nicole, someone Tony met at the gym. She always wears outfits that show off her chest and ass, she's incredibly proud of her body and treats it like a temple.
4. Sam, Tony's friend at work. She's pretty kind, and her outfits are always distracting because of all the cleavage she shows... and it seems she isn't even aware of how distracting she can be.
5. Megan, a lonely and unattractive woman Tony was friends with in highschool, Tony found later on that she had a massive glowup over the last few years, and she's clearly out of his league now.
6. Anna, Tony's sister. She's slightly suspicious of Tony and his "girlfriend" and playfully teases him about when she'll get to meet her. She knows about Tony's tendency to lie when it comes to relationships, but doesn't really berate him for it, she just finds it funny how desperate he is to put up appearances.
SETTING & WORLD
Modern day America.
Inspired by Japan's rental girlfriend trope, companies in countries around the world had tried to replicate it's success, but women never signed up... so they decided to take things into their own hands, by forcibly having women possessed by hired staff/actors to act as girlfriends for clients.
CHARACTERS
1. Anthony "Tony" Parker (the player), a man who bragged about having a perfect girlfriend (he says its his boss at one point, a girl at the gym at another, a cafe owner the next, and a girl he met during highschool and reconnected with), but never even had one to begin with. Now he's expected to bring a girlfriend to several family outings and hangouts with friends in the span of a couple of days.
2. Emily, the owner of the cafe he frequently goes to before work. She has blonde hair and eyes as blue as sapphires glinting in the sunlight.
3. Nicole, someone Tony met at the gym. She always wears outfits that show off her chest and ass, she's incredibly proud of her body and treats it like a temple.
4. Sam, Tony's friend at work. She's pretty kind, and her outfits are always distracting because of all the cleavage she shows... and it seems she isn't even aware of how distracting she can be.
5. Megan, a lonely and unattractive woman Tony was friends with in highschool, Tony found later on that she had a massive glowup over the last few years, and she's clearly out of his league now.
6. Anna, Tony's sister. She's slightly suspicious of Tony and his "girlfriend" and playfully teases him about when she'll get to meet her. She knows about Tony's tendency to lie when it comes to relationships, but doesn't really berate him for it, she just finds it funny how desperate he is to put up appearances.
SETTING & WORLD
Modern day America.
556
290
5
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Jennifer is obsessed with her favorite streamer Anna. She uses a magic link she found online to trick Anna into letting her take over her body. Little does she know, but Anna has more than a few secrets she keeps to herself.
Chapter 1: The Obsession
Jennifer sat in the dim glow of her computer screen. Her average blonde hair was tied back in a messy ponytail. Her face was illuminated by the flickering chat window of Anna's Twitch stream. She was just another face in the digital crowd. An early fan, a loyal donor, but never once acknowledged. For years, Jennifer had poured her heart and wallet into Anna's content. The streamer was her everything. A beacon of charisma, wit, and that elusive e-girl aesthetic that made Jennifer's pulse quicken. Anna's streams were a mix of gaming, chit-chat, and ASMR whispers that sent shivers down Jennifer's spine. But it was more than that. It was a crush that bordered on obsession. A one-sided love affair fueled by late-night DMs that went unread and donations that earned only generic "thanks to the chat" shoutouts.
Tonight, Anna was live. Her dark red hair cascaded over her shoulders like a river of blood under the studio lights. She wore aviator-style glasses that perched on her nose. This gave her an intellectual edge that contrasted with her playful banter. Her makeup was flawless. A smokey eye with sharp winged liner made her green eyes pop. Her lips were painted in a cute berry shade, glossed to perfection. Long white nails tapped rhythmically on her keyboard as she navigated through a horror game. Her voice was a sultry mix of excitement and mock fear. "Oh no, chat, the monster's coming! Should I run or fight? Spam F for fight!"
Jennifer leaned forward. Her own body felt inadequate in comparison. She was average in every way. 5'5", a bit curvy from too many sedentary nights, with freckles dotting her nose that she hated. But Anna? From the rare glimpses in award show photos, Anna was fit, leggy, and blessed with curves that she hid under baggy hoodies and high-waisted pants on stream. Never revealing, always teasing. Jennifer had saved those photos. She zoomed in on the elegant dress hugging Anna's form. She imagined what lay beneath. Large breasts, toned legs. Perfection.
As the stream hit a lull, Anna stretched. Her voice was casual. "Alright, chat, BRB for a quick bathroom break. Don't go anywhere. Ads rolling!" The screen switched to a looping sponsor spot. Jennifer's heart raced. This was her moment. She'd found the spell online. It was buried in a shady forum for "reality hackers." A link embedded in a DM, whispered incantations over her keyboard. It promised possession. Temporary, undetectable. A chance to be inside Anna, to feel her world from within.
Her fingers trembled as she opened Instagram on her phone. She typed the DM: "Hey Anna, huge fan! Check this out, it's a fan art link I made for you <3 [link]." She hit send. She whispered the words under her breath. Doubt crept in. Would Anna even check her phone during break? But then, a wave of dizziness hit. The room spun. Her vision blurred. Everything went black.
Chapter 2: Awakening in Foreign Skin
When consciousness returned, it wasn't in her cluttered bedroom. Jennifer blinked. She was disoriented. She stood in a brightly lit bathroom that screamed luxury. Marble counters, a rainfall showerhead, and a mirror that spanned the wall. She was facing a toilet. Phone in hand. Anna's phone, she realized with a jolt. The screen showed her own DM. The link was clicked. It worked.
But something was wrong. No, everything was different. Her chest felt heavy. It was weighted down by two massive orbs that strained against the fabric of a cropped hoodie. Jennifer, now in Anna's body, looked down. But her view was obstructed by the sheer size of them. Double D's at least, maybe bigger. Soft yet firm, jiggling slightly with each breath. A thrill shot through her. It mixed with confusion. She'd imagined this, but the reality was overwhelming.
Then, lower. Her leggings and panties were bunched around her thighs. They exposed what? A warm, pleasing sensation pulsed from her groin. She heard the trickle of liquid hitting the bowl. Panic surged. She glanced down further, past the breasts. She saw it. A penis, moderately sized. Maybe six inches soft, with a pair of balls hanging below. It was circumcised, veiny. Currently mid-stream, urine flowed out in a steady arc.
"What the fuck?" Jennifer's mind screamed. But Anna's voice echoed in her head. No, not echoed. Integrated. Fragments of Anna's psyche flooded in. Calm acceptance, a secret she'd guarded for years. This wasn't a surprise to Anna. It was normal. She was trans, post-top surgery perhaps. But she kept her lower half as is. Hormones had softened her features. They built her curves. But the dick remained. A private truth hidden from the world. Jennifer felt the calming wave wash over her. Anna's memories soothed the freakout. "It's fine," a voice in her head whispered. "You've always been like this. No big deal."
She finished. She shook it off instinctively. Wait, shaking? Jennifer's cis-female habits kicked in. She grabbed a tissue. She wiped delicately. She felt the sensitive skin tingle. Pulling up the panties. Silk, smooth against the shaft. And leggings. She turned to the mirror. Anna stared back. Dark red hair tousled from the stream. Aviator glasses slightly askew. Makeup impeccable. Up close, she was even more stunning. High cheekbones, full lips glistening with gloss. Jennifer posed. She ran Anna's hands over the curves. She cupped the breasts through the fabric. They were real, heavy. Nipples hardened under the touch.
A stir below. The penis twitched. It grew semi-hard. It pressed against the leggings. Arousal built. Foreign yet intoxicating. Jennifer's mind raced: "Oh god, it's getting hard because of me? Her?" She reached down, curious. But stopped. The stream. Chat would be waiting. With eerie ease, Anna's muscle memory guided her out of the bathroom. Down a hallway lined with gaming posters and neon lights. Back to the setup.
Chapter 3: Streaming Through the Veil
The stream room was a gamer's paradise. RGB lights pulsing. A high-end PC humming. Dual monitors showing the paused game and chat exploding with "Where's Anna?" messages. Jennifer sat in the plush chair. Anna's body moved like it had done this a thousand times. She unmuted. She adjusted the mic. She smiled at the camera. Anna's smile, practiced and charming.
"Hey chat, back! Sorry for the wait. Nature calls, you know?" Her voice. Anna's voice. Was smooth, a hint of rasp that fans loved. The chat lit up. Hearts, emotes, donations pinging in. Jennifer felt a rush. This was power. She dove into the game. Commentary flowed naturally. Anna's charisma bled through. Jokes about the monster's "bad hair day." Flirty responses to thirsty comments. "Oh, username123, you'd save me from the zombie? My hero!"
Internally, Jennifer marveled. "I'm her. I'm actually her." The breasts shifted with each gesture. A constant reminder. The penis, now soft again, nestled comfortably. Donations rolled in. $50 from a regular, with a message: "Love the new hair, Anna!" She thanked them. She earned more subs. It felt good, validating. By the end of the session, she'd gained 20 new subscribers. The chat praised her energy.
"Alright, that's it for tonight, lovelies. Thanks for hanging out. See you next time!" She ended the stream. She leaned back with a sigh. Freedom now. Time to explore.
Chapter 4: Secrets in the Closet
Anna's apartment was sleek, modern. High ceilings, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. Jennifer wandered. Anna's long legs carried her effortlessly. The living room had a massive TV. Plush couch. Shelves of merch from collabs. But she wanted answers. Why the secret? How long had Anna been like this?
Into the bedroom. King-sized bed with silk sheets. A vanity cluttered with makeup. The closet was a walk-in dream. Racks of e-girl outfits: hoodies, skirts. But nothing too revealing. Deeper in, hidden drawers. Jennifer pulled one open. Lingerie, silk panties in every color. Some with pouches for accommodation. Another drawer. Hormones, binders? No, post-op stuff. Dilators? Wait, no. Anna's memories clarified. She was trans femme. On HRT for years. But chose to keep her penis. It worked for her. Felt right.
Jennifer stripped. She admired in the full-length mirror. Anna's body naked. Toned abs from gym sessions. Long legs. And those breasts. Perky, nipples pink and erect in the cool air. The penis dangled. Semi-erect from the excitement. She touched it. She gasped at the sensitivity. "So this is what it feels like." But voices. Someone in the living room?
Chapter 5: The Unexpected Guest
Stepping out, still in Anna's hoodie and leggings, Jennifer froze. On the couch sat a girl. Goth perfection. Medium black hair with bangs framing a pale face. Makeup dramatic: black lips, heavy eyeliner. Tattoos snaked up her arms. Skulls, roses in black and gray. Her top was a skimpy tank. Massive fake breasts, at least F-cups, spilled out. Nipples faintly visible through the fabric. Short shorts rode up. They revealed fishnet stockings.
"Hey babe, how'd the stream go?" The voice was husky, familiar. Jennifer's mind clicked. Raven, the cam-girl she'd crushed on before Anna. Famous for explicit shows, body mods, that goth vibe.
"Uh, good. Really good." Anna's voice responded. But Jennifer's thoughts whirled: "Babe? Are they together?"
Raven tilted her head. She noticed the stare. "You okay? You've been eyeing me like it's our first time. Come on, I've been waiting all day. Horny as fuck after my show." She patted the couch. She smirked.
Jennifer's body moved on autopilot. Anna's habits kicked in. She sat, heart pounding. Raven leaned in. Lips brushed Anna's ear. "Missed you. Let's play."
Chapter 6: Tease and Temptation
Raven's hands were everywhere. Sliding under the hoodie. Cupping the breasts. "God, your tits are perfect today. So sensitive." She pinched a nipple. This elicited a moan from Jennifer/Anna. The sensation zinged straight to the groin. The penis stirred.
"You're so hot," Jennifer murmured. Anna's confidence infused the words.
Raven laughed. A throaty sound. "Flatterer. Now, let's see what you've got for me." She knelt. She pulled down the leggings. The silk panties. Pink, Raven's favorite. Bulged with the growing erection. "Ooh, wearing my color? Naughty girl." Her fingers teased through the fabric. Stroking the shaft. Precum leaked. It soaked the silk. The friction was maddening.
Jennifer's mind reeled: "This feels incredible. Like electricity." Raven pulled it out. The penis now fully hard. Seven inches, throbbing. She stroked slowly. Thumb circled the head. Spreading the slickness. "Mmm, you're so ready. Taste?"
Before Jennifer could process, Raven leaned in. Lips parted. The warmth enveloped the tip. Tongue swirled. She sucked. Bobbing. Hand pumped the base. Jennifer gripped the couch. Hips bucked instinctively. "Fuck, Raven. That's amazing."
Raven paused. She stripped her top. Her fake breasts bounced free. Huge, round, with pierced nipples. She squeezed them. Moaning. "Like the view? Now, back to work." She deepthroated. Gagging slightly. Saliva dripped.
Chapter 7: The Climax
Raven stood. She shimmied out of her shorts and panties. Her body was a canvas. Shaved smooth. A tattooed rose above her pussy. It glistened with arousal. She turned. Bent over. Ass presented. Plump, with a tight hole winking. "Your turn, babe. Fuck me."
Jennifer's body took over. Anna's experience guided. She positioned behind. Rubbing the cock against Raven's entrance. Wet, hot. Pushing in, the tightness gripped like a vice. "Oh god." New sensations. The slide, the warmth, the friction.
Raven moaned. "Yes, deeper!" Jennifer thrust. Hands on hips. Building rhythm. Breasts slapped against Raven's back as she leaned over. Faster, harder. The pressure built. Balls tightened.
Raven's cries escalated: "I'm close. Cum with me!" Jennifer pulled out at the last second. Anna's habit, safe. Stroking furiously. Orgasm hit like a wave. Semen spurted across Raven's ass. Ropes of white coated her skin.
Blackout came swift.
Chapter 8: Return and Revelation
Jennifer awoke at her desk. Panties soaked. Chair damp with her own arousal. A smile crept across her face. Perverted, satisfied. Anna was trans. Secret intact. And Raven? Her girlfriend, apparently. The possession worked flawlessly.
Internal thoughts swirled: "I can do it again. Anytime. Feel that power, that pleasure." She glanced at the screen. Anna's stream offline. But Instagram showed a new story. Anna in a cute pose. Captioned "Post-stream vibes <3".
Jennifer licked her lips. Next time, she'd stay longer. Explore more. The obsession had evolved. Now, it was addiction.
Chapter 1: The Obsession
Jennifer sat in the dim glow of her computer screen. Her average blonde hair was tied back in a messy ponytail. Her face was illuminated by the flickering chat window of Anna's Twitch stream. She was just another face in the digital crowd. An early fan, a loyal donor, but never once acknowledged. For years, Jennifer had poured her heart and wallet into Anna's content. The streamer was her everything. A beacon of charisma, wit, and that elusive e-girl aesthetic that made Jennifer's pulse quicken. Anna's streams were a mix of gaming, chit-chat, and ASMR whispers that sent shivers down Jennifer's spine. But it was more than that. It was a crush that bordered on obsession. A one-sided love affair fueled by late-night DMs that went unread and donations that earned only generic "thanks to the chat" shoutouts.
Tonight, Anna was live. Her dark red hair cascaded over her shoulders like a river of blood under the studio lights. She wore aviator-style glasses that perched on her nose. This gave her an intellectual edge that contrasted with her playful banter. Her makeup was flawless. A smokey eye with sharp winged liner made her green eyes pop. Her lips were painted in a cute berry shade, glossed to perfection. Long white nails tapped rhythmically on her keyboard as she navigated through a horror game. Her voice was a sultry mix of excitement and mock fear. "Oh no, chat, the monster's coming! Should I run or fight? Spam F for fight!"
Jennifer leaned forward. Her own body felt inadequate in comparison. She was average in every way. 5'5", a bit curvy from too many sedentary nights, with freckles dotting her nose that she hated. But Anna? From the rare glimpses in award show photos, Anna was fit, leggy, and blessed with curves that she hid under baggy hoodies and high-waisted pants on stream. Never revealing, always teasing. Jennifer had saved those photos. She zoomed in on the elegant dress hugging Anna's form. She imagined what lay beneath. Large breasts, toned legs. Perfection.
As the stream hit a lull, Anna stretched. Her voice was casual. "Alright, chat, BRB for a quick bathroom break. Don't go anywhere. Ads rolling!" The screen switched to a looping sponsor spot. Jennifer's heart raced. This was her moment. She'd found the spell online. It was buried in a shady forum for "reality hackers." A link embedded in a DM, whispered incantations over her keyboard. It promised possession. Temporary, undetectable. A chance to be inside Anna, to feel her world from within.
Her fingers trembled as she opened Instagram on her phone. She typed the DM: "Hey Anna, huge fan! Check this out, it's a fan art link I made for you <3 [link]." She hit send. She whispered the words under her breath. Doubt crept in. Would Anna even check her phone during break? But then, a wave of dizziness hit. The room spun. Her vision blurred. Everything went black.
Chapter 2: Awakening in Foreign Skin
When consciousness returned, it wasn't in her cluttered bedroom. Jennifer blinked. She was disoriented. She stood in a brightly lit bathroom that screamed luxury. Marble counters, a rainfall showerhead, and a mirror that spanned the wall. She was facing a toilet. Phone in hand. Anna's phone, she realized with a jolt. The screen showed her own DM. The link was clicked. It worked.
But something was wrong. No, everything was different. Her chest felt heavy. It was weighted down by two massive orbs that strained against the fabric of a cropped hoodie. Jennifer, now in Anna's body, looked down. But her view was obstructed by the sheer size of them. Double D's at least, maybe bigger. Soft yet firm, jiggling slightly with each breath. A thrill shot through her. It mixed with confusion. She'd imagined this, but the reality was overwhelming.
Then, lower. Her leggings and panties were bunched around her thighs. They exposed what? A warm, pleasing sensation pulsed from her groin. She heard the trickle of liquid hitting the bowl. Panic surged. She glanced down further, past the breasts. She saw it. A penis, moderately sized. Maybe six inches soft, with a pair of balls hanging below. It was circumcised, veiny. Currently mid-stream, urine flowed out in a steady arc.
"What the fuck?" Jennifer's mind screamed. But Anna's voice echoed in her head. No, not echoed. Integrated. Fragments of Anna's psyche flooded in. Calm acceptance, a secret she'd guarded for years. This wasn't a surprise to Anna. It was normal. She was trans, post-top surgery perhaps. But she kept her lower half as is. Hormones had softened her features. They built her curves. But the dick remained. A private truth hidden from the world. Jennifer felt the calming wave wash over her. Anna's memories soothed the freakout. "It's fine," a voice in her head whispered. "You've always been like this. No big deal."
She finished. She shook it off instinctively. Wait, shaking? Jennifer's cis-female habits kicked in. She grabbed a tissue. She wiped delicately. She felt the sensitive skin tingle. Pulling up the panties. Silk, smooth against the shaft. And leggings. She turned to the mirror. Anna stared back. Dark red hair tousled from the stream. Aviator glasses slightly askew. Makeup impeccable. Up close, she was even more stunning. High cheekbones, full lips glistening with gloss. Jennifer posed. She ran Anna's hands over the curves. She cupped the breasts through the fabric. They were real, heavy. Nipples hardened under the touch.
A stir below. The penis twitched. It grew semi-hard. It pressed against the leggings. Arousal built. Foreign yet intoxicating. Jennifer's mind raced: "Oh god, it's getting hard because of me? Her?" She reached down, curious. But stopped. The stream. Chat would be waiting. With eerie ease, Anna's muscle memory guided her out of the bathroom. Down a hallway lined with gaming posters and neon lights. Back to the setup.
Chapter 3: Streaming Through the Veil
The stream room was a gamer's paradise. RGB lights pulsing. A high-end PC humming. Dual monitors showing the paused game and chat exploding with "Where's Anna?" messages. Jennifer sat in the plush chair. Anna's body moved like it had done this a thousand times. She unmuted. She adjusted the mic. She smiled at the camera. Anna's smile, practiced and charming.
"Hey chat, back! Sorry for the wait. Nature calls, you know?" Her voice. Anna's voice. Was smooth, a hint of rasp that fans loved. The chat lit up. Hearts, emotes, donations pinging in. Jennifer felt a rush. This was power. She dove into the game. Commentary flowed naturally. Anna's charisma bled through. Jokes about the monster's "bad hair day." Flirty responses to thirsty comments. "Oh, username123, you'd save me from the zombie? My hero!"
Internally, Jennifer marveled. "I'm her. I'm actually her." The breasts shifted with each gesture. A constant reminder. The penis, now soft again, nestled comfortably. Donations rolled in. $50 from a regular, with a message: "Love the new hair, Anna!" She thanked them. She earned more subs. It felt good, validating. By the end of the session, she'd gained 20 new subscribers. The chat praised her energy.
"Alright, that's it for tonight, lovelies. Thanks for hanging out. See you next time!" She ended the stream. She leaned back with a sigh. Freedom now. Time to explore.
Chapter 4: Secrets in the Closet
Anna's apartment was sleek, modern. High ceilings, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. Jennifer wandered. Anna's long legs carried her effortlessly. The living room had a massive TV. Plush couch. Shelves of merch from collabs. But she wanted answers. Why the secret? How long had Anna been like this?
Into the bedroom. King-sized bed with silk sheets. A vanity cluttered with makeup. The closet was a walk-in dream. Racks of e-girl outfits: hoodies, skirts. But nothing too revealing. Deeper in, hidden drawers. Jennifer pulled one open. Lingerie, silk panties in every color. Some with pouches for accommodation. Another drawer. Hormones, binders? No, post-op stuff. Dilators? Wait, no. Anna's memories clarified. She was trans femme. On HRT for years. But chose to keep her penis. It worked for her. Felt right.
Jennifer stripped. She admired in the full-length mirror. Anna's body naked. Toned abs from gym sessions. Long legs. And those breasts. Perky, nipples pink and erect in the cool air. The penis dangled. Semi-erect from the excitement. She touched it. She gasped at the sensitivity. "So this is what it feels like." But voices. Someone in the living room?
Chapter 5: The Unexpected Guest
Stepping out, still in Anna's hoodie and leggings, Jennifer froze. On the couch sat a girl. Goth perfection. Medium black hair with bangs framing a pale face. Makeup dramatic: black lips, heavy eyeliner. Tattoos snaked up her arms. Skulls, roses in black and gray. Her top was a skimpy tank. Massive fake breasts, at least F-cups, spilled out. Nipples faintly visible through the fabric. Short shorts rode up. They revealed fishnet stockings.
"Hey babe, how'd the stream go?" The voice was husky, familiar. Jennifer's mind clicked. Raven, the cam-girl she'd crushed on before Anna. Famous for explicit shows, body mods, that goth vibe.
"Uh, good. Really good." Anna's voice responded. But Jennifer's thoughts whirled: "Babe? Are they together?"
Raven tilted her head. She noticed the stare. "You okay? You've been eyeing me like it's our first time. Come on, I've been waiting all day. Horny as fuck after my show." She patted the couch. She smirked.
Jennifer's body moved on autopilot. Anna's habits kicked in. She sat, heart pounding. Raven leaned in. Lips brushed Anna's ear. "Missed you. Let's play."
Chapter 6: Tease and Temptation
Raven's hands were everywhere. Sliding under the hoodie. Cupping the breasts. "God, your tits are perfect today. So sensitive." She pinched a nipple. This elicited a moan from Jennifer/Anna. The sensation zinged straight to the groin. The penis stirred.
"You're so hot," Jennifer murmured. Anna's confidence infused the words.
Raven laughed. A throaty sound. "Flatterer. Now, let's see what you've got for me." She knelt. She pulled down the leggings. The silk panties. Pink, Raven's favorite. Bulged with the growing erection. "Ooh, wearing my color? Naughty girl." Her fingers teased through the fabric. Stroking the shaft. Precum leaked. It soaked the silk. The friction was maddening.
Jennifer's mind reeled: "This feels incredible. Like electricity." Raven pulled it out. The penis now fully hard. Seven inches, throbbing. She stroked slowly. Thumb circled the head. Spreading the slickness. "Mmm, you're so ready. Taste?"
Before Jennifer could process, Raven leaned in. Lips parted. The warmth enveloped the tip. Tongue swirled. She sucked. Bobbing. Hand pumped the base. Jennifer gripped the couch. Hips bucked instinctively. "Fuck, Raven. That's amazing."
Raven paused. She stripped her top. Her fake breasts bounced free. Huge, round, with pierced nipples. She squeezed them. Moaning. "Like the view? Now, back to work." She deepthroated. Gagging slightly. Saliva dripped.
Chapter 7: The Climax
Raven stood. She shimmied out of her shorts and panties. Her body was a canvas. Shaved smooth. A tattooed rose above her pussy. It glistened with arousal. She turned. Bent over. Ass presented. Plump, with a tight hole winking. "Your turn, babe. Fuck me."
Jennifer's body took over. Anna's experience guided. She positioned behind. Rubbing the cock against Raven's entrance. Wet, hot. Pushing in, the tightness gripped like a vice. "Oh god." New sensations. The slide, the warmth, the friction.
Raven moaned. "Yes, deeper!" Jennifer thrust. Hands on hips. Building rhythm. Breasts slapped against Raven's back as she leaned over. Faster, harder. The pressure built. Balls tightened.
Raven's cries escalated: "I'm close. Cum with me!" Jennifer pulled out at the last second. Anna's habit, safe. Stroking furiously. Orgasm hit like a wave. Semen spurted across Raven's ass. Ropes of white coated her skin.
Blackout came swift.
Chapter 8: Return and Revelation
Jennifer awoke at her desk. Panties soaked. Chair damp with her own arousal. A smile crept across her face. Perverted, satisfied. Anna was trans. Secret intact. And Raven? Her girlfriend, apparently. The possession worked flawlessly.
Internal thoughts swirled: "I can do it again. Anytime. Feel that power, that pleasure." She glanced at the screen. Anna's stream offline. But Instagram showed a new story. Anna in a cute pose. Captioned "Post-stream vibes <3".
Jennifer licked her lips. Next time, she'd stay longer. Explore more. The obsession had evolved. Now, it was addiction.
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John makes a wish one fateful night to be able to get closer to his crush and gets more than he'd bargained for with via a gender bending trip in the body of his attractive step-mom.
Chapter 1: Backstory
The sun hung high over the quiet suburban neighborhood of Willow Creek, casting a golden haze over manicured lawns and white picket fences that seemed frozen in time. It was the kind of place where everyone knew everyone's business, but no one ever admitted it-secrets simmered beneath the surface like the humid Texas air in mid-July. John Thompson, an 18-year-old fresh out of high school, wiped the sweat from his brow as he pushed the old lawnmower across Jessica's expansive front yard. The machine's rumble drowned out the distant chirp of cicadas, and the scent of freshly cut grass mixed with the faint floral perfume wafting from the nearby rose bushes Jessica so meticulously tended.
John had been helping out both families for years now-his own and the neighboring one headed by Jessica and her daughter Summer. It started as odd jobs to earn pocket money: mowing lawns, fixing fences, even helping with groceries when Heather, his step-mom, was swamped with her part-time job at the local boutique. Heather had married John's dad when John was just a kid, but after his dad passed away five years ago from a sudden heart attack, it had been just the three of them: Heather, John, and Amy-Heather's biological daughter from her first marriage. Amy was 20 now, home from college for the summer, and she treated John like the annoying little brother he sometimes felt he was.
But Summer, oh, Summer was different. She'd been Amy's best friend since middle school, the kind of girl who turned heads without even trying. John had nursed a crush on her for as long as he could remember-those stolen glances during family barbecues, the way her laughter echoed like music when she and Amy gossiped in the backyard. She was 20 now too, taller than most girls at 5'10", with a lithe, athletic build from years of volleyball, sun-kissed blonde hair that cascaded in waves down her back, and a bust that filled out her tops in a way that made John's heart race. Her mom, Jessica, was the stuff of local legend-the town's ultimate MILF at 46, with platinum blonde locks, a curvy figure boasting a generous D-cup bust, and legs that seemed to go on forever. She owned a small yoga studio downtown, which kept her toned and flexible, and her flirtatious smile had broken more than a few hearts.
John paused the mower to chug from his water bottle, his t-shirt clinging to his lean, teenage frame. He wasn't unattractive-tallish at 5'11", with messy brown hair and a boyish charm-but he felt invisible next to the likes of Summer. "Just finish this up," he muttered to himself, wiping his face with the hem of his shirt. That's when he heard the car pull into the driveway.
The sleek SUV doors opened, and out stepped Summer, looking every bit the college bombshell in cutoff denim shorts that hugged her firm ass and a crop top that revealed a sliver of toned midriff. Her bigger bust-easily an E-cup-strained against the fabric, bouncing slightly as she slung her duffel bag over her shoulder. "John? Is that you?" she called out, her voice bright and melodic, waving enthusiastically.
John's heart skipped a beat. He killed the mower's engine, suddenly hyper-aware of how sweaty and disheveled he looked-grass clippings stuck to his sneakers, beads of perspiration dripping down his neck. "Uh, hey, Summer! Welcome home!" He tried to play it cool, but his voice cracked just a little.
She dropped her bag and bounded over, enveloping him in a tight hug before he could protest. Her body pressed against his-soft, warm, and smelling faintly of vanilla and sunscreen. He could feel the swell of her breasts against his chest, the curve of her hips brushing his, and for a split second, his mind blanked. "It's so good to see you! You've gotten taller or something," she laughed, pulling back but keeping her hands on his arms. Her blue eyes sparkled with genuine warmth.
John's face flushed crimson. "Y-yeah, maybe. Sorry, I'm all sweaty and gross. Wasn't expecting, you know." He gestured vaguely at himself, inwardly cursing his awkwardness. God, she looks incredible, he thought. Even better than I remembered. Those lips, that smile, what I wouldn't give to just...
Summer giggled, tilting her head. "Aw, don't worry about it. You're doing us a huge favor with the lawn. Mom's been raving about how helpful you've been." She glanced back at the house, where Jessica was unloading more bags, her own figure poured into yoga pants and a tank top that accentuated her ample cleavage. Jessica caught John's eye and waved with a wink, her blonde hair catching the light like a halo.
John opened his mouth to reply, but words failed him. Summer's proximity was overwhelming-her scent, her touch, the way her top rode up just enough to show a hint of underboob. He stood there, dumbstruck, his brain short-circuiting as he imagined what it would be like to hold her, to kiss her, to explore every inch of her perfect body. "I, uh, yeah, no problem," he finally stammered, stepping back awkwardly.
Summer smiled sympathetically, picking up her bag. "Well, catch you later? Amy and I are planning a pool day soon- you should join!" With that, she sauntered off, her hips swaying in a way that made John's knees weak.
He watched her go, his mind reeling. How does she do that? Just exist and make everything else fade away? Shaking his head, he restarted the mower, but his thoughts lingered on her-the crush that had only grown stronger over the years.
Later that afternoon, after finishing up and heading home, John bumped into Amy in the kitchen. She was perched on the counter, scrolling through her phone, her brunette hair tied back in a ponytail. Amy took after Heather-modest but attractive, with a fit body from her college track team, perky C-cup breasts, and a girl-next-door vibe. At 20, she was confident and teasing, especially with her little step-brother.
"Hey, loser," she said without looking up, popping a grape into her mouth. "Heard you were over at Jessica's. See Summer yet?"
John grabbed a soda from the fridge, trying to act nonchalant. "Yeah, she just got home. Hugged me and everything." He couldn't help the grin that crept onto his face.
Amy finally glanced at him, smirking. "Ooh, a hug? Careful, John, you might actually talk to a girl for once." She hopped down, nudging him playfully. "Seriously, though, when are you gonna get a girlfriend? You're 18 now-high school's over. You can't just mope around playing video games all summer."
John rolled his eyes, but her words stung a bit. "I'm not moping. Just, busy helping out. And who says I need a girlfriend right now?"
Amy laughed, ruffling his hair. "Come on, make some friends at least. Hit up the beach, the mall-anything. Summer's single, you know. But you'd have to actually, like, speak in full sentences around her."
If only it were that easy, John thought, his mind flashing back to the hug. She's way out of my league. But god, what I wouldn't do to be closer to her... "Yeah, yeah. I'll think about it."
The conversation fizzled as Amy headed upstairs, leaving John to ponder her advice. Dinner that evening was a typical affair-Heather had whipped up a simple pasta dish, her brunette hair pulled back, her modest blouse and jeans hugging her still-fit 45-year-old figure. Heather was classically attractive: soft curves, a B-cup bust that she carried with quiet confidence, and warm brown eyes that always seemed to know more than she let on. She was the glue holding the family together, working her boutique job while keeping the house running smoothly.
They ate at the kitchen table, chatting about mundane things-Amy's college stories, John's lawn-mowing adventures, Heather's latest customer drama. "John, sweetie, thanks for helping Jessica out today," Heather said, smiling across the table. "You're turning into quite the responsible young man."
John shrugged, blushing slightly. "No big deal, Mom." The meal wrapped up normally, with everyone retreating to their own spaces: Amy to her room for a video call with friends, Heather to the living room with a book, and John upstairs to his bedroom.
He locked the door behind him, flopping onto his bed with a sigh. The room was a typical teenage haven-posters of video games and bands on the walls, a cluttered desk with his laptop, and a faint scent of Axe body spray. But tonight, his mind was fixated on Summer. That hug, her body against mine. Fuck, she's perfect. He felt a familiar stir in his pants, his cock twitching at the memory.
Unable to resist, he grabbed his laptop, dimming the lights as he settled against the pillows. A quick incognito search brought up porn sites, and he typed in descriptors that reminded him of her: "tall blonde big tits college girl." Videos popped up-women who vaguely resembled Summer, but none captured her essence. He clicked on one: a busty blonde riding a guy reverse cowgirl, her moans filling his headphones.
John's hand slipped into his boxers, wrapping around his hardening shaft. He stroked slowly at first, imagining it was Summer on top of him, her breasts bouncing, her tight pussy gripping him. God, I wish I could get closer to her, he thought, his pace quickening. Not just know her, but be intimate. Feel her from the outside, sure, but, inside too? Like, understand her completely. The fantasy spiraled-taboo thoughts of body swaps, gender bends from the weird porn he'd stumbled upon before, where guys became girls and explored forbidden desires.
His breath hitched as the orgasm built, more intense than usual. "Fuck, I wish I could be closer to Summer, inside and out," he whispered aloud, his voice hoarse. The video played on, the actress crying out in ecstasy. John's body tensed, cum erupting in hot spurts over his hand and stomach. Waves of pleasure crashed over him, stronger than ever, his vision blurring as a strange dizziness took hold. The world spun, and suddenly-blackness. He collapsed back, unconscious, the laptop still humming softly in the dim room.
Chapter 2: Freaky Morning
The first rays of dawn filtered through the sheer curtains of Heather's bedroom, casting a soft, ethereal glow over the king-sized bed with its crisp white sheets and plush comforter. The room was a sanctuary of feminine elegance-walls painted a calming lavender, a vanity table cluttered with perfumes and jewelry, and a full-length mirror propped against the far wall, reflecting the orderly chaos of a woman's life well-lived. Heather's closet stood slightly ajar, revealing rows of neatly hung blouses, dresses, and jeans, while the faint scent of lavender sachets mingled with the subtle musk of her favorite body lotion. It was a space John had only glimpsed in passing, never truly entered, let alone woken up in.
But this morning, that's exactly where he found himself-or rather, where she found herself. John's consciousness stirred groggily, his mind foggy from what felt like the deepest sleep of his life. His body felt, off. Lighter somehow, yet weighted in unfamiliar places. He blinked against the light, rubbing his eyes with hands that seemed smaller, more delicate. What a weird dream, he thought hazily, the remnants of last night's intense orgasm flickering in his memory like a half-remembered fantasy. That blackout, must've passed out hard. A pressing urge built in his lower abdomen-the need to pee-and without much thought, he swung his legs over the side of the bed.
The nightgown whispered against his skin as he stood, a silky fabric that clung in ways his boxers never did. It was Heather's favorite-a simple lavender slip that reached mid-thigh, with thin straps and a lace-trimmed neckline that dipped just enough to hint at cleavage. John didn't register the difference yet; his brain was still booting up. He padded across the plush carpet, the cool hardwood of the en suite bathroom floor sending a shiver up his spine as he entered. The bathroom was pristine: marble counters, a deep soaking tub, and a rainfall showerhead that Heather loved for its spa-like feel. He lifted the toilet seat out of habit-wait, no, that felt wrong. Instinct took over, and he hiked up the nightgown, sat down on the cool porcelain, and let go.
The stream came easily, a soft trickle that felt strangely relieving but, different. No standing, no aiming-just sitting and releasing. He reached for the toilet paper without thinking, wiping front to back in a motion that came as naturally as breathing. Flush. Stand. Wash hands. It was all autopilot, muscle memory kicking in from a body that wasn't his. Huh, that was, easy, he mused internally, still half-asleep. Usually takes forever to wake up properly.
He shuffled to the vanity sink, the mirror fogged slightly from the humidity of the night. Grabbing Heather's toothbrush-pink-handled, with soft bristles-he squeezed on a dollop of minty toothpaste and began brushing. The rhythm was familiar, but as he raised his arm, it brushed against something soft and yielding. A jolt of sensation shot through him-nipples hardening under the fabric, a subtle weight shifting on his chest. What the...? He paused, toothbrush in mouth, and glanced down. Breasts. Actual breasts, modestly sized but pert, straining slightly against the nightgown. The toothbrush clattered into the sink as awareness crashed over him like a wave.
John's eyes widened in the mirror, staring back at a face that wasn't his. Heather's face: high cheekbones, full lips painted a natural pink from last night's gloss, warm brown eyes framed by long lashes, and a cascade of brunette hair tumbling over shoulders. "Oh my God," he whispered, but the voice that emerged was soft, feminine-Heather's voice, with its gentle Texas lilt. He gasped externally, a sharp intake of breath that echoed in the tiled room. Internally, his mind screamed: What the fuck is happening? This can't be real. Am I still dreaming? Did I die? Panic bubbled up, his new heart pounding in a chest that felt both alien and intimately responsive.
He leaned closer to the mirror, hands-slender, with manicured nails-gripping the counter. Calm down, John. Breathe. Figure this out. How had this happened? Last night, the porn, the wish whispered aloud as he came. I wish I could get closer to Summer, inside and out. Was this some cosmic joke? A body swap? Like those weird stories he'd read online, the gender bender fantasies that always got him off harder than he cared to admit. But this was real-the cool air from the AC vent brushing against his skin, making goosebumps rise, and lower, a chill teasing at exposed folds he shouldn't have. Holy shit, I have a vagina.
Curiosity edged out the panic as he calmed. If this is a dream, might as well explore. He started with the face, poking and prodding gently. Heather's skin was smooth, softer than his ever was-no stubble, just the faint peach fuzz of a woman's complexion. He stuck out his tongue-pink and agile-wagging it experimentally. Then, an UwU face: cheeks puffed, eyes wide and innocent, lips pursed in a cute pout. It looked ridiculous on Heather's mature features, but oddly endearing. A sad face next-eyebrows furrowed, lower lip trembling-as if practicing for a role in a drama. She looks, kinda hot like this, he admitted to himself, a forbidden thought creeping in.
Now, the voice. "Hello?" he tested, the word coming out smooth and melodic. He cleared his throat-her throat-and tried seductive: "Come here, big boy," drawled low and husky, with a sultry emphasis that made his new nipples tingle. Angry and authoritative: "Young man, you're grounded!" barked out, stern and commanding, the kind of tone Heather used when scolding him. Curse words for fun: "Fuck, shit, damn," he whispered, giggling at how prim and proper it sounded in her voice, then louder, "Oh, fuck me," with a moan that surprised him with its authenticity. This is insane. I sound just like her. But better? Sexier?
Satisfied for now, he ventured back into the bedroom, the nightgown swishing around his thighs. The full-body mirror beckoned, a ornate antique piece Heather had inherited from her mother. John stood before it, heart racing anew. He slipped the straps off his shoulders, letting the nightgown pool at his feet. Naked now, he stared. Heather's body-his body-was stunning in a way he'd never appreciated. At 45, she was fit from yoga classes with Jessica, her skin glowing with a natural tan. Modest B-cup breasts hung with a natural heft, nipples a dusky pink and erect from the cool air. He cupped them experimentally, feeling the weight-soft yet firm, like ripe fruit. These are, heavy. But nice. Sensitive too. A gentle squeeze sent a spark straight to his core, a warmth building between his legs.
His hands roamed lower: smooth, hairless skin everywhere except a neatly trimmed patch above his new slit. No coarse body hair, just silkiness. Legs long and dainty, toned calves leading to petite feet. He turned, admiring the curve of his ass-round and perky, not as voluptuous as Jessica's but inviting. Fingernails painted a soft nude, longer than he was used to, scratching lightly over his skin. She's gorgeous. Why didn't I notice before? Taboo, I guess. But now... The thought aroused him-her. A slickness grew between his thighs, a moist heat that made him clench involuntarily. I'm getting wet. Fuck, that's hot. But not now-gotta figure this out.
Shaking it off, he headed to the closet, an instinctive pull guiding him. Muscle memory? Heather's knowledge seeped in-he knew exactly where her lingerie drawer was, tucked in the back. He pulled out a comfortable bra: beige lace, supportive underwire. Slipping it on was effortless-arms through straps, clasp in front with a twist, adjust the cups. Whoa, that was easy. Like I've done it a thousand times. It felt amazing: the lift pushing his breasts up, creating subtle cleavage, the fabric hugging like a second skin. Panties next-a thong, black and silky, something he wouldn't have pegged for Heather's modest style. Does she wear these? Kinky, Mom. He stepped in, pulling it up; the string nestled between his ass cheeks, a constant teasing pressure, while the front panel cupped his mound, the fabric brushing his slit in a way that made him gasp. Feels, exposing. But good. Like it's right there, ready.
Clothes: tight skinny jeans that hugged his hips and ass like a glove, zipping up with a satisfying snugness. A button-up blouse in soft blue, rolling the sleeves for a casual look that accentuated his figure. This outfits screams 'hot mom.' Matches perfectly.
Drawn to the makeup vanity next-a wooden table with a lighted mirror, drawers full of palettes and brushes. He sat, brushing out the long brunette locks-silky and thick, falling to mid-back. Tying it into a loose ponytail was second nature, strands framing his face. Feels lighter now. Smells like her shampoo-floral and fresh.
The makeup array was overwhelming: foundations, blushes, eyeshadows in every shade, lipsticks from nude to bold red. So much stuff. Eyeliners, mascaras, how does she choose? But again, instinct guided him. He applied a light foundation, blending seamlessly; a touch of blush for a rosy glow; eyeliner winged just so, making his eyes pop; mascara for length; and a lipstick a shade pinker than Heather's usual, with a gloss that made his lips look fuller, kissable. Cuter, slightly seductive-eyebrows arched playfully, a hint of shimmer on the lids. Not her everyday look. More, flirty. Like I'm dolling up for something special.
Stepping back, he admired the full effect in the mirror: a vision of mature allure, jeans accentuating curves, blouse hinting at cleavage, makeup enhancing natural beauty. If this is permanent, what now? Excitement mingled with fear, but a thrill coursed through him. Summer. This could be my chance to get close. Really close. With that, he headed downstairs, ready to face whatever bizarre day awaited in his step-mom's body.
Chapter 3: "Heather"'s Day
The aroma of sizzling bacon and fresh coffee wafted through the Thompson household, a cozy two-story home nestled in the heart of Willow Creek. The kitchen was Heather's domain-granite countertops gleaming under pendant lights, a farmhouse sink piled with mixing bowls, and a window overlooking the backyard where John had spent countless summers playing catch with his late dad. But this morning, it was John-or rather, "Heather"-commanding the space with an ease that surprised even him. Dressed in those tight skinny jeans that hugged his new curves like a second skin and the button-up blouse that teased just a hint of cleavage, he moved with a fluid grace, flipping pancakes and scrambling eggs as if he'd done it a thousand times. Which, in a way, he had-Heather's muscle memory was a godsend, guiding his hands through the motions without a second thought.
What the hell is going on? John pondered internally, stirring the eggs with a wooden spoon. Am I stuck like this forever? Is this some kind of freaky punishment for jerking off to Summer? Or, fulfillment of that wish? The confusion gnawed at him, but a strange exhilaration bubbled underneath. No more awkward stares from afar; he could be close now, in ways he never imagined. But first, gotta play the part. Don't freak out the family. He set the table with Heather's favorite floral plates, humming a tune he didn't even know he knew-a soft melody from one of her yoga playlists.
As the first one up, John had the house to himself for a blissful half-hour, but soon enough, footsteps thudded down the stairs. His heart-or Heather's-skipped a beat as he wondered about his old body. What if Mom's in there? Trapped, screaming? Or, what if it's empty? The question was answered when "John" shuffled into the kitchen, yawning in his rumpled pajamas, hair tousled just like always. "Morning, Mom," the body said in John's own voice, wrapping arms around "Heather" in a casual hug. The embrace felt surreal-hugging himself, essentially-but there was no hint of anything amiss. "John" pulled back, sniffing the air. "Smells awesome. You making pancakes? Sweet."
"Yeah, sweetie, your favorite," John replied in Heather's warm tone, forcing a smile while his mind raced. He's acting just like me. Saying shit I'd say, moving like I do. Is it, on autopilot? Some kind of echo? Relief washed over him; at least no one was suffering in his place. Amy joined moments later, her ponytail bouncing as she plopped into a chair, phone in hand. "Morning, everyone! Ooh, bacon-thanks, Mom."
Breakfast unfolded in a haze of normalcy that bordered on the absurd. They chatted about the weather-hot and humid, as always in Texas-the latest neighborhood gossip, and Amy's excitement about her summer classes. John, as Heather, navigated it flawlessly: laughing at "John's" dumb joke about a video game boss, passing the syrup with a maternal nod, even scolding Amy gently for scrolling too much at the table. Internally, though, it was a mindfuck. This is me, eating with my family, but I'm Mom. Watching myself chew with my mouth open. Hearing Amy call me 'Mom.' It's like a VR sim gone wrong. A flicker of arousal stirred as he caught sight of Amy's tank top riding up, revealing a sliver of her toned stomach-taboo thoughts he quickly shoved down. Focus, dude. You're her mom now.
As the meal wrapped up, plans emerged. "John" mentioned heading out to mow more lawns-my old job, John thought wryly-while Amy talked about meeting friends downtown. "Hey, Mom," Amy said, stacking plates, "you should hit the mall today. Get that new bathing suit we talked about. Remember, tomorrow's the double date at the beach spa with Jessica and Summer! It's gonna be so fun-sun, sand, massages..."
John's new body reacted instantly: a flush of heat between his legs, nipples tightening under the bra. Double date? With Jessica and Summer? Holy shit. Images flooded his mind-Summer in a bikini, water glistening on her curves, her laughter echoing over waves. This is it. The wish. Getting closer to her, even if it's as Mom. Bizarre, but, hot? He nodded enthusiastically, Heather's voice steady. "That sounds perfect, honey. I could use a little retail therapy."
Amy grinned. "Awesome! Pick something cute. Maybe something a bit, sexier? You're still got it, Mom." She winked, and "John" chuckled, oblivious.
Once they left-the door clicking shut behind them-John was alone, the house silent except for the hum of the fridge. Okay, game on. He grabbed Heather's purse from the hook by the door-a stylish leather satchel stuffed with wallet, keys, and lip gloss-and slung it over his shoulder. Stepping out, he felt a literal spring in his step: lighter on his feet, hips swaying naturally, the thong riding up just enough to remind him of his new anatomy. Feels, empowering? Like I'm strutting.
Heather's car-a reliable SUV-waited in the driveway. Sliding into the driver's seat, he adjusted the mirror, buckling up. The seatbelt nestled between his breasts, the strap pressing against the soft mounds, creating a valley of cleavage. Whoa, that's, distracting. Unable to resist, he glanced around-no nosy neighbors watching-and cupped his boobs through the blouse, squeezing gently. The sensation zinged straight to his core, a moist warmth building. These feel amazing. So sensitive. He admired his reflection: ponytail bouncing, makeup flawless, lips plump. Looking good, 'Heather.' A little crazy? Maybe. But fuck it. Starting the engine, he pulled out, heading to the mall with a mix of nerves and excitement.
The Willow Creek Mall was bustling mid-morning: families milling about, teens in clusters, the air scented with pretzels and perfume. As "Heather," John drew glances-not suspicious, but appreciative. Men stealing looks at his ass in the jeans, women nodding at his outfit. They're checking me out. Because I'm hot. Female hot. It was a power trip, boosting his confidence as he navigated to a trendy store aimed at the 18-25 crowd-think fast fashion with edgy vibes, blasting pop music and lined with racks of crop tops and mini skirts.
Browsing the swimsuit section, he blended in at first, but soon noticed the giggles from a group of college-aged girls nearby. They're laughing at me? The 'old lady' in their store? But he ignored it, fingers trailing over fabrics until he spotted a two-piece white bikini: skimpy top with padding for extra lift, high-cut bottoms that would hug and expose his ass cheeks. This is cute. Revealing, but, why not? Summer might notice. Heart pounding, he grabbed a size that felt right-Heather's instincts again-and headed to the changing rooms.
The attendant, an 18-year-old with neon hair and a judgmental smirk, eyed him up. "Uh, can I help you? These are for, like, our demographic..."
John channeled Heather's charisma-poise he'd never had as himself. He flashed a warm smile, tilting his head flirtatiously. "Oh, honey, age is just a number. But if you insist, maybe you can help me decide if this makes me look too, youthful?" He added a wink and a light laugh, funny yet charming, disarming her completely.
The girl blinked, then grinned. "Okay, fair. Room three's open. Knock yourself out."
Inside the cramped stall, mirror-lined walls reflecting every angle, John stripped slowly. Off came the blouse, jeans pooling at his feet, bra unclasped-breasts freed, nipples perking in the cool air. The thong slipped down, revealing his smooth mound, already glistening slightly from anticipation. Time to see. He stepped into the bikini bottoms, the fabric snug against his slit, riding up to accentuate his ass. The top tied on, padding pushing his B-cups into fuller, perkier cleavage. Damn, I look, fuckable.
Letting his hair down-waves cascading-he posed: hands on hips, seductive smirk, touching himself all over. Fingers traced his collarbone, down to squeeze his enhanced boobs, thumbs circling nipples until they ached. So soft, so responsive. He turned, admiring his ass-cheeks peeking out, firm and inviting. Then, cutesy mode: innocent pout, batting lashes, imagining compliments from Jessica and Summer. "Oh, Heather, you look amazing!" he'd coo in a high pitch, giggling.
But thoughts turned to Summer: her taller frame in a bikini, bigger bust spilling out, water droplets tracing her curves. God, she'd look incredible. Wet, shiny... Arousal hit hard-his pussy throbbing, slickness soaking the bottoms. Can't ignore this anymore. He slipped a hand down, rubbing his clit through the fabric-electric sparks shooting through him. Fuck, that's intense. Boldly, he pushed the bottoms aside, fingers dipping into his wet folds, one then two sliding in. The fullness, the warmth-moans escaped, soft at first, then louder: "Oh, yes..." He pumped gently, thumb on clit, imagining Summer's body against his. The attendant might have heard-the stall walls thin-but he didn't care, stopping just short of climax. Later. Save it.
Composed again, he dressed and checked out. The cashier-a young guy-rang him up, but John scratched an itch near his crotch crudely, like a guy adjusting his balls. Oops. The cashier flushed, thinking, Hot mom, but, that was weird. Kinda unladylike.
Back home, cooking dinner was effortless: Heather's recipes ingrained, whipping up lasagna with garlic bread. When Amy and "John" returned, he roleplayed perfectly-asking about their days, laughing at stories, no suspicions raised. This is trippy. Engaging with myself.
After dinner, alone time with Amy in her room: posters of bands, clothes strewn about. She changed for bed into a provocative outfit-tiny shorts and a crop top, no bra, nipples visible through thin fabric. John stared voyeuristically, heat building. She's hot. Like Mom, but younger. Amy chatted about the spa: private massages, saunas, hot tubs. "And who knows, Mom? We might spot some hot guys. You could use a fling!" She teased, winking.
John laughed, but internally: Guys? Nah. But Summer... Excited, he headed to bed, following Heather's routine: face wash, lotion, nightgown. In the nightstand, a small vibrator-pink, discreet. Mom's got toys? Kinky.
Lying back, he buzzed it to life, pressing against his clit. Oh fuck. Imagining the spa: Jessica in a thong, bust overflowing; Summer nude, legs spread; even Amy, playful and bare. They touched, kissed-taboo fantasies blending. Orgasms crashed over him, waves of pleasure making his body arch, moans muffled into the pillow. Exhausted, he drifted to sleep, dreaming of tomorrow's possibilities.
Chapter 4: Before the Outing
The alarm on Heather's nightstand buzzed softly at 7 AM, pulling John from a deep, dreamless sleep. He stretched languidly under the sheets, his body-Heather's body-responding with a supple arch that made his breasts shift and his hips roll in a way that felt both foreign and intoxicating. The vibrator from last night lay innocently on the pillow beside him, a silent reminder of the explosive orgasm that had rocked him to his core. Holy shit, that was real, he thought, a grin spreading across Heather's full lips as he sat up. I'm still here. Still her. And today, today I get to see Summer up close. In a spa. With bikinis and massages and, God, what if things get steamy? Excitement coursed through him, mingling with a low hum of arousal that made his new pussy tingle faintly.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed, the cool morning air teasing his skin through the thin nightgown. Padding to the en suite bathroom, he caught his reflection in the mirror-hair tousled from sleep, makeup smudged just enough to look sultry rather than sloppy. I look like a woman who's had a wild night. Fitting. Stripping off the nightgown, he stepped into the shower, turning the water to a steamy hot spray that cascaded over his curves like a lover's touch. The sensation was overwhelming: water beading on his breasts, trickling down his flat stomach, pooling between his thighs. He lathered up with Heather's body wash-a luxurious blend of vanilla and jasmine that made his skin slick and silky.
This feels incredible, he marveled internally, hands roaming as he washed. Fingers grazed his nipples, hardening them into peaks that sent jolts straight to his core. Lower, he soaped his pussy gently, the suds mixing with a fresh slickness as thoughts of Summer invaded his mind. Her body wet like this, blonde hair plastered to her big tits, laughing as she splashes Amy, Fuck, I can't wait. But the real star was the shampoo: a fruity, botanical concoction of mango and hibiscus that filled the steam with an exotic, heady aroma. He massaged it into his scalp, the long strands heavy and fragrant under his fingers. Smells like paradise. Like her-Summer always has that tropical vibe. Rinsing off, he lingered under the spray, one hand slipping between his legs to rub his clit in slow circles. A soft moan escaped-Heather's voice, husky with desire. Just a tease. Save the big one for later, maybe with her. He stopped before climax, toweling off with a fluffy robe that hugged his figure, still buzzing with anticipation.
Downstairs in the kitchen, the family routine kicked in. John, as Heather, whipped up a quick breakfast-avocado toast with eggs, fresh fruit on the side-while "John" and Amy trickled in. "Morning, everyone," he said brightly, plating the food. Time to probe. What's my old body been up to? He turned to "John," who was shoveling toast into his mouth just like he always did. "So, sweetie, what have you been up to these last couple days? Any fun plans while we're gone?"
"John" shrugged, mid-bite. "Eh, mostly gaming. Finally beat that level in Elden Ring- you know, the one with the fire giant? Took forever, but I cheesed it with the bleed build."
John's excitement spiked-That's my game! I was stuck on that boss for weeks!-and he leaned in, Heather's eyes lighting up. "Oh, really? The fire giant? Isn't that the one where you have to dodge those massive AOE attacks? And the bleed build-smart, using rivers of blood katana, right? Pairs great with the mimic tear summon."
"John" blinked, surprised but nodding. "Yeah, exactly! Wait, Mom, since when do you know about Elden Ring builds?"
Amy, overhearing from her seat, paused with her coffee mug halfway to her lips. "Whoa, Mom, you're a gamer now? That's, kinda cool, but random."
Panic flickered in John's mind-Shit, too much. Slipped into my own geek mode. But Heather's poise bubbled up, that effortless charisma saving the day. He laughed lightly, waving a hand dismissively. "Oh, honey, I've picked up a thing or two listening to you ramble about it. Plus, I read an article the other day-something about how video games improve reflexes. Keeps me young!" He added a wink, steering the conversation smoothly to Amy's classes, and the moment passed without suspicion. Close call. But damn, it's weird hearing about my own life from the outside.
After breakfast, with "John" heading out for more chores and Amy lingering to help clean up, John retreated upstairs to pack. The closet called to him again, and rummaging through Heather's wardrobe, his eyes landed on a sexy sun dress he'd somehow overlooked before: a vibrant red number with a deep V-neck that plunged daringly between the breasts, thin straps, and a flowy skirt that hit mid-thigh, perfect for showing off legs and a hint of cleavage. This is fire. Shows off everything-boobs, ass, the works. He slipped it on, the fabric whispering against his skin, hugging his curves before flaring out. Twirling in the mirror, he admired how it accentuated his bust, the material thin enough that his nipples poked through if he got chilled. Summer's gonna love this. Wait, no- she's straight, right? But maybe...
Packing was quick: the new white bikini folded neatly into an overnight bag, along with other fun outfits-a sheer cover-up that would tease skin, lacy lingerie just in case things heated up, and casual shorts with a crop top for lounging. Prepared for anything. Massages, saunas, who knows what could happen in private? A thrill shot through him, his pussy clenching at the possibilities.
As they got ready to leave, Amy appeared in the doorway, eyeing the dress with raised eyebrows. "Damn, Mom! That dress is hot. You're gonna turn heads at the spa. Jessica might get jealous-she's usually the MILF queen."
John flushed-Heather's cheeks warming-but played it cool with a playful spin. "Thanks, sweetie. Figured why not? Life's too short for boring clothes." Amy laughed, complimenting his makeup too-the subtle smokey eyes he'd added for extra allure. They headed out together, leaving "John" with a wave and instructions to behave, the SUV purring down the driveway toward the beach spa an hour away.
---
Meanwhile, across the neighborhood at the Summers' residence-a modern ranch-style home with a sprawling backyard pool and Jessica's yoga mats scattered on the deck-preparations were in full swing. Jessica, at 46, moved with the grace of a woman who knew her power, her platinum blonde hair tied in a high ponytail as she packed her bag in the sunlit kitchen. She wore yoga leggings and a sports bra for the drive, her generous D-cup bust straining against the fabric, curves honed from years of downward dogs and warrior poses. Summer, her 20-year-old daughter, was upstairs in her room, a feminine haven of pastel walls, volleyball trophies, and posters of indie bands.
"Summer, honey, you almost ready?" Jessica called up the stairs, zipping her bag with swimsuits, lotions, and a bottle of wine for the evening. "Heather and Amy should be meeting us soon-don't forget your sunscreen!"
"Coming, Mom!" Summer replied, her voice light but laced with a secret excitement. She stood before her mirror, adjusting a casual tank top and shorts over her bikini, her taller frame making everything look model-esque. Blonde waves framed her face, and her E-cup breasts filled out the top perfectly, a natural bounce with each movement. God, I'm buzzing, she thought, inner monologue racing as she packed. A whole day at the spa with Amy, and Heather. Heather. A flush crept up her neck at the thought. Summer had always been the popular girl-cheerful, athletic, surrounded by friends-but deep down, she harbored a secret: a growing attraction to women that she'd never voiced. College had opened her eyes-stolen glances in the dorm showers, butterflies around pretty professors-but back home, it simmered unspoken.
Heather's always been so, elegant. Fit, brunette, that quiet sexiness. And lately, I've caught myself staring. Is it a crush? She bit her lip, imagining Heather in a swimsuit, their bodies close during a massage. Women are just, softer. Curvier. More intoxicating. Amy's hot too, but Heather-mature, experienced. What if I could, explore? The thought made her nipples harden, a warmth pooling between her legs. She shook it off, grabbing her bag. "Okay, Mom, let's go!"
Downstairs, Jessica hugged her daughter, their dialogue easy and affectionate. "You excited? It's been ages since we did a girls' trip like this."
"Totally," Summer said, grinning. "Pool time, massages-perfection. And hanging with Amy and Heather will be fun."
Jessica raised an eyebrow teasingly. "Heather, huh? You've always had a soft spot for her. She's like a second mom."
Summer laughed it off, but internally: If only you knew. "Yeah, something like that."
They loaded the car, chatting about spa details-private saunas, ocean views-and headed out, the drive filled with laughter and playlists.
---
Back to John as Heather: they arrived at the beach spa first, a luxurious resort overlooking the Gulf, with palm trees swaying and the scent of salt air mingling with essential oils. Stepping out, John smoothed the sun dress, the skirt fluttering in the breeze to reveal toned thighs. Here we go. Jessica's SUV pulled up moments later, and as she emerged-looking every bit the cougar in a wrap dress that hugged her bust-John greeted her with la bise, the European cheek kisses they always did. "Jessica, darling, you look fabulous," he purred in Heather's voice, their cheeks brushing, scents mingling.
"You too, Heather- that dress! Sexy as hell," Jessica replied with a laugh.
But then Summer stepped out, and John froze. She was stunning: a floral sundress similar to his but shorter, accentuating her long legs, bigger bust spilling slightly at the neckline, blonde hair glowing in the sun. Fuck, she's a goddess. Taller, thinner, those tits, I could stare forever. His body reacted-pussy dampening, heart racing.
Summer, meanwhile, was equally awestruck. Heather looks, different. Hotter. That makeup, the dress-cleavage for days. Is she flirting with the world today? Her cheeks pinked as they locked eyes. "Hey, Heather," she said softly, moving in for a hug.
The embrace was electric: bodies pressing close, John's breasts mashing against Summer's larger ones, soft and yielding through thin fabrics. He inhaled her scent-vanilla and sunscreen-feeling the warmth of her skin, the subtle curve of her hips. Oh God, this feels amazing. Her boobs against mine, so full, so perfect. A forbidden thrill shot through him, his nipples hardening.
Summer pulled back reluctantly, blushing deeper. That hug, her body feels so good. Soft, warm. I want more. Jessica and Amy were already chatting animatedly about the itinerary, laughing as they grabbed bags. "Come on, ladies-let's check in!" Jessica goaded, leading the way.
John followed, mind spinning with possibilities, the group entering the spa's grand lobby, ready for whatever intimacies the day held.
Chapter 5: Getting Close to Summer
The Azure Waves Beach Spa Resort sprawled along the Gulf Coast like a hidden paradise, its white stucco buildings accented with turquoise trim, palm-fringed pools shimmering under the relentless Texas sun, and the distant crash of waves providing a rhythmic soundtrack to indulgence. The lobby was a haven of luxury: marble floors cooled by ocean breezes, plush seating areas dotted with tropical plants, and the faint scent of eucalyptus from the spa diffusers. As the group checked in, the receptionist-a perky young woman with a name tag reading "Mia"-handed over key cards with a smile. "Welcome, ladies! Your suites are in the Ocean Wing. Pool's open all day, and your massages are booked for 3 PM. Enjoy!"
John, still inhabiting Heather's body, clutched his key card tightly, his manicured fingers trembling slightly with a mix of nerves and exhilaration. The hug with Summer lingered in his mind-the press of her larger breasts against his, the warmth of her breath on his neck, that telltale blush coloring her cheeks as they pulled apart. She blushed. Hard. Was that because of me? Or, Heather? Does she feel something too? He wondered internally, a spark of hope igniting in his chest. This body swap thing is nuts, but if it means getting close to her like this, I'll take it. The group dispersed to their individual suites with plans to reconvene at the main pool in an hour, Amy and Jessica chattering excitedly about cocktails and sunbathing.
John's suite was a slice of opulence: a spacious room with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the beach, a king bed draped in crisp linens, and a private balcony where the sea air whispered promises of relaxation. A mini-bar stocked with chilled wines and fruits sat invitingly by the desk, and the bathroom boasted a rainfall shower and plush robes. Alone at last, he set his bag down and faced the full-length mirror, Heather's reflection staring back-sun dress hugging curves, ponytail slightly tousled from the drive. Time to change. Make it fun. A mischievous grin spread across his lips as he decided to indulge in the moment, turning the simple act of changing into a private spectacle.
He started slow, swaying his hips to an imaginary beat, fingers tracing the thin straps of the dress. Strip tease for one. Why not? This body's made for it. He slipped one strap down, then the other, letting the fabric pool at his waist, exposing Heather's lacy bra that cradled his modest B-cup breasts. Cupping them, he squeezed gently, thumbs circling nipples until they peaked, a soft gasp escaping-Heather's voice, breathy and feminine. Feels so good. Sensitive as hell. The dress fell to the floor in a whisper, leaving him in just the thong panties, the string nestled teasingly between his ass cheeks. He turned, admiring the view: smooth skin, toned legs, the curve of his hips flaring out invitingly. Hooking thumbs into the thong, he bent forward dramatically, sliding it down slowly, ass presented to the mirror as his pussy came into view-already glistening with arousal. Look at that. Wet just from thinking about her. He stepped out of the panties, fully nude now, and struck poses: one hand on hip, the other trailing down his stomach to brush his clit, eliciting a shiver.
Grabbing the white two-piece bikini from his bag, he made the donning equally erotic. First the bottoms: stepping in exaggeratedly, pulling them up so the fabric hugged his mound, the high-cut sides framing his ass like a work of art. He adjusted the front, fingers dipping briefly into his folds for a teasing rub. Mmm, tight fit. Shows off everything. The top came next-tying it behind his back with a flourish, the padding lifting his breasts into fuller, perkier cleavage that spilled slightly at the edges. He bounced on his toes, watching them jiggle. Damn, I look hot. Summer's gonna notice. Hair down in waves, a quick touch-up of lip gloss, and he wrapped a towel around his waist like a sarong, heading out with a sway in his step that felt utterly natural.
The pool area was a tropical oasis: infinity edges blending with the ocean horizon, cabanas with billowing white curtains, and lounge chairs lined up under umbrellas. Waitstaff in crisp uniforms circulated with trays of fruity cocktails. John spotted Jessica first, and his jaw nearly dropped. She lounged by the chairs like a predator in wait-a super sexy MILF cougar ready to pounce. Her one-piece swimsuit was a masterpiece of temptation: black with strategic cutouts along the sides and midriff, plunging neckline showcasing her generous D-cup bust, the fabric clinging to her curves like a second skin. It looked straight off a supermodel runway, accentuating her toned legs and the subtle sway of her hips. Blonde hair cascaded freely, sunglasses perched on her nose, a knowing smile on her lips.
Holy fuck, Jessica, John thought, a droplet of drool nearly escaping as he approached. She's always been hot, but this? Lethal. "Jessica, wow-you look incredible," he said in Heather's warm voice, eyes lingering a beat too long on her cleavage.
She laughed, standing to hug him-bodies pressing close, her bust against his making his nipples harden instantly. "Coming from you? Please, Heather, that bikini is fire. White on your tan? Chef's kiss." She pulled back, handing him a vibrant cocktail-something pink and garnished with pineapple. "Mai Tai. Figured we'd start strong." Then, with a flirtatious grin, she offered her hand. "Shall we? Chairs are this way."
John took it, their fingers intertwining, skin warm and soft. Internally, he freaked: Hand-holding with Jessica? While she looks like that? How do I even talk without staring at her tits? But as they walked, the panic ebbed, replaced by awe as his gaze shifted to the pool. There, frolicking in the water, was Summer-splashing Amy with gleeful abandon, her laughter ringing out like music. She wore a skimpy red bikini that left little to the imagination: top straining against her E-cup breasts, bottoms tied at the sides with bows that begged to be undone. Water glistened on her taller, thinner frame, droplets tracing paths down her toned abs and long legs. Amy, in a sporty blue two-piece that hugged her perky C-cups and athletic build, laughed back, but John's eyes were glued to Summer. Oh my God. She's perfection. Bouncing in the water like that, I could watch forever.
They settled into adjacent lounge chairs, cocktails in hand, the sun warming their skin. John sipped his drink-sweet and potent, rum hitting just right-while freaking out internally about small talk. What do I say? Weather? No, too lame. But Heather's essence surged forward: that natural charisma, the ease of conversation she'd always had. "So, Jess, tell me-how's the yoga studio been? Any new hot instructors catching your eye?" he asked with a teasing lilt, leaning back to mirror her relaxed pose.
Jessica chuckled, sipping her drink. "Oh, you know me-always scouting talent. There's this one guy, mid-20s, abs for days. But honestly, I've been too busy. What about you? Dating scene treating you well since, you know." Her voice softened, referencing Heather's widowhood without dwelling.
The chat flowed effortlessly: gossip about neighborhood drama (Mrs. Wilkins' latest affair scandal), shared laughs over parenting woes (Amy's college antics mirroring Summer's), and deeper tidbits-Jessica confessing her secret love for trashy romance novels, John sharing Heather's fondness for gardening mixed with his own taste in indie films. This is wild. I'm learning stuff about her I'd never know as John. All the while, his eyes darted to Summer in the pool: her lithe body diving under, emerging with hair slicked back, breasts heaving with each breath. So close. I can hear her laugh, see every curve. This is heaven.
Summer, mid-splash with Amy, glanced over occasionally, catching "Heather" watching. She's staring. At me? Curiosity bloomed in her chest, a warm flutter between her legs. Heather's always been gorgeous, but today, that bikini, those eyes on me. Does she feel it too?
Hours melted away in glorious voyeurism-John reveling in Summer's every move, the way water beaded on her skin, her playful shrieks as Amy dunked her. But Amy eventually broke the spell, swimming to the edge. "Hey, ladies! Massage time-let's go! Don't want to be late."
Summer climbed out, water cascading off her body as she approached the chairs. Up close, John drank her in: the red bikini clinging wetly, nipples faintly visible through the fabric, her taller frame towering slightly, ass cheeks peeking from the bottoms. Fuck, she's dripping. Warm and fuzzy? I'm on fire. Summer's eyes roamed Heather's body too-the white bikini enhancing cleavage, the way it hugged her slit subtly. Heather looks, edible. That lift in her boobs, her legs, God, I'm getting wet just looking.
The group toweled off and headed to the massage suite, a serene wing with dim lighting, soft instrumental music, and the scent of lavender oil. Private rooms branched off a central changing area with lockers and robes. John decided to go with the flow-Never had a massage before. Might as well enjoy. In the changing room, privacy screens offered partial cover, but glimpses were inevitable. He stripped slowly: bikini top untied, breasts freed with a bounce; bottoms slid down, exposing his smooth pussy. Sneaking peeks, he caught Jessica's nude form-voluptuous curves, shaved mound, ass like a peach. Amy's athletic body-perky tits, trimmed bush. But Summer, Jesus. Tall and lithe, her E-cups heavy and natural, pink nipples erect from the cool air, pussy with a neat landing strip. She bent to pick up her robe, ass presented, folds peeking invitingly.
Summer stole a glance back, eyes widening at Heather's body: modest but toned, breasts pert, pussy bare and glistening slightly. She's beautiful. Smooth everywhere, I want to touch. Both flushed, slipping into thin massage gowns-paper-thin fabric that hid little.
In the massage room-four tables side by side, therapists waiting with oils-John lay face-down, the gown parting to expose his back. As hands kneaded his muscles, tension melted, and conversation sparked with Summer on the next table. "This feels amazing," he sighed in Heather's voice. "First time for a pro massage?"
Summer turned her head, smiling. "Yeah, me too. Kinda nervous, but, relaxing. How's your summer been, Heather? Amy says you've been busy."
Small talk evolved: college life (Summer's volleyball team drama), favorites (John mixing his indie rock playlists with Heather's classic jazz, movies like his sci-fi faves blended with her rom-coms). "I love those mind-bendy films," he shared. "Like, ones that twist reality."
Depth crept in: dreams, fears. Then, intimacy. "Speaking of twists," Summer ventured shyly, "have you ever, experimented? With, um, relationships?"
John's heart raced-Heather's bi-curiosity surfacing in memories. "Honestly? Yes. I've always been curious about women. Experimented in college-a few flings. It's, liberating." True for her body. And hot to admit.
Summer's eyes lit up, ecstatic. Heather? Into women? Experimented? Oh my God. Internally: This could be my chance. Make a move later?
They delved deeper-Summer confessing, "I'm curious too. About my sexuality. Not sure yet, but, girls intrigue me. Not tell Amy or Mom, okay? Secret."
"I promise," John replied, mind whirling with ideas. She's a closet lesbian? Perfect. Crazy plans brewing-could I, with her? As Heather?
Topics shifted, landing on porn anecdotes for laughs. "Weirdest kink?" Summer teased.
John feigned shyness. "Oh, God, okay, MILF stuff, mom/son or mom/daughter roleplay. And, gender transformation, body swaps. Some TG/trans stuff. Plausible for me, right?" My actual kinks. Living one now.
Summer's intrigue peaked-surprised, aroused. Body swaps? Hot. I could listen to her forever. "Tell me more sometime?"
Massages ended, leading to dinner at the resort's seaside restaurant: candlelit tables, fresh seafood, wine flowing. Gossip flew-day's highlights, spa tales. Amy probed: "So, who caught your eye today? Hot guys around?"
Jessica grinned. "That lifeguard-tall, tanned. Yum." But John and Summer blushed, stammering vague answers, eyes meeting across the table with shared heat.
Back in his suite, John unwound, reflecting. Unbelievable. Staring at Summer all day, sharing secrets. She's into girls-maybe me. Even if not as John, worth it? He pondered his kinks: Living a body swap fantasy. Porn come to life.
Chapter 6: Summer Makes Her Move
The resort's restaurant lingered in Summer's mind like a hazy afterglow as she slipped back into her suite, the door clicking shut behind her with a soft finality. The room was a mirror of Heather's-ocean views framed by gauzy curtains, the bed inviting with its turned-down sheets, and the faint hum of waves crashing outside like a lullaby. But sleep was the last thing on her mind. Dinner had been electric: the way Heather's eyes had met hers across the table, that shared blush when Amy teased about crushes, the wine loosening tongues and inhibitions. Heather, into women? Experimented? And those kinks-body swaps, MILF roleplay. God, it's like she read my fantasies. Summer's skin tingled with the memory, a warmth spreading from her chest downward as she kicked off her sandals and padded to the mirror.
She stood there, illuminated by the soft glow of the bedside lamp, her red bikini swapped earlier for a simple tank top and shorts that clung to her damp skin from the evening humidity. Look at you, she thought, inner monologue swirling with a mix of nerves and desire. Twenty years old, closet lesbian, crushing on your best friend's mom. Pathetic? Or, bold? Her hands moved almost of their own accord, slipping under the hem of her tank top to lift it slowly over her head. Blonde waves tumbled free, framing her face as she tossed the top aside. Her E-cup breasts bounced gently, freed from confinement, nipples already hardening in the cool air-conditioned room. She cupped them, thumbs brushing the sensitive peaks, a soft sigh escaping her lips. So full, so sensitive. Imagine her hands on them-Heather's. Mature, knowing touch.
The shorts came next, shimmying down her long legs to reveal lacy panties that matched her earlier bikini-red and sheer, hinting at the neatly trimmed blonde patch beneath. She turned, admiring her reflection: taller frame lean and athletic from volleyball, ass firm and rounded, thighs toned from endless practices. I'm hot. She noticed me today-ogling at the pool, in the changing room. Those eyes on my body, Arousal built like a tide, her pussy aching with need. She slipped a hand into her panties, fingers finding her clit-swollen and slick already. Circling slowly, she moaned softly, imagining Heather's voice from the massage: I've experimented, curious about women. "Fuck," Summer whispered, her free hand pinching a nipple. What if I went to her room right now? Knocked, told her I can't stop thinking about her. Experimented, with me.
The fantasy spiraled: Heather pulling her inside, lips crashing, hands exploring. She's bi-curious. Shared those secrets. This could happen. Her fingers dipped lower, sliding into her wet folds, pumping gently as her knees weakened. Mentor me, like in those porn vids-the mom teaching the daughter. God, yes. Orgasm hovered close, but she stopped, breathing ragged. No. Not alone. Go to her. Now. Panties off, she grabbed a silk robe from the closet-thin and short, tying it loosely so it gaped at the front, hinting at her nudity beneath. Heart pounding, she slipped out into the dimly lit hallway, bare feet silent on the carpet, making her way to Heather's door. This is crazy. But if she turns me away, at least I tried. She knocked softly, pulse racing.
---
Back in Heather's suite, John paced the room, the nightgown whispering against his skin like a lover's promise. The silk fabric clung to his curves, nipples visible through the thin material, a constant reminder of his borrowed body. Dinner replayed in his mind: the gossip, the laughter, Summer's blush mirroring his own. She shared she's curious. About girls. And I-Heather-admitted to experimenting. Fuck, the ideas in my head, could I seduce her? As Mom? Taboo as hell, but, hot. He ran a hand through his brunette waves, arousal simmering from the day's sights-Summer's body, wet and glistening, her secret glances. Living my kink. Body swap porn come true. If only I could-
A knock shattered the silence. John's heart-or Heather's-leaped into his throat. Who the hell? At this hour? Peeking through the peephole, his breath caught: Summer, in a robe that barely contained her, blonde hair tousled, eyes wide with nervous determination. Oh shit. It's her. What does she want? Internally freaking: Calm down. Play it cool. But, what if this is it? He smoothed the nightgown, took a deep breath, and opened the door. "Summer? Is everything okay?"
She didn't answer with words. Stepping inside, she pushed the door shut behind her, locked it with a click, and surged forward. Her hands cupped Heather's face-John's face-and she kissed him fiercely, lips soft and urgent, tongue seeking entry. John gasped into the kiss, body responding instinctively: arms wrapping around her waist, pulling her close. The robe gaped, her naked breasts pressing against the nightgown, heat radiating through the fabric. Holy fuck, she's kissing me. Naked under there? This is happening. They stumbled backward, Summer guiding him toward the bed, her taller frame dominant yet gentle.
Breaking the kiss, Summer's blue eyes locked onto his, cheeks flushed. "Heather, I can't get you out of my head. All day-the pool, the changing room, the massage. You were staring. Ogling me. And what you said, about being curious, experimenting. It lit something in me."
John's mind reeled, but Heather's charisma surged: "Summer, honey, I noticed you too. Blushing, glancing back. You're beautiful. Irresistible." This is insane. My crush, making the move on me-as her. His pussy throbbed, wet and aching.
Summer's hands roamed, slipping under the nightgown to caress his hips. "I, I've never done this. With a woman. But I want to. With you." She hesitated, biting her lip. "Remember your kinks? The roleplay stuff? I have a favorite porn vid, the mom mentoring her daughter, teaching her about sex. Gentle at first, then, passionate. Will you? Roleplay that for me? Be the mom, show me?"
John's arousal spiked-One of my favorites too. The taboo mentor scene. He nodded, letting go, autopilot kicking in. Heather's sultriness blended with his knowledge, reciting lines perfectly. "Oh, sweetie," he purred in Heather's voice, seductive and maternal, "come here. Mommy's going to teach you everything. Make you feel so good." He pushed Summer gently onto the bed, climbing atop her, nightgown hiking up to reveal his thighs.
Summer moaned, robe falling open completely, exposing her nude body-breasts heaving, pussy glistening. John fondled her with grace: hands tracing her sides, cupping her E-cups softly, thumbs rolling nipples with deliberate, experienced touches. "Like this, baby? Feel how sensitive they are?" Summer arched, gasping. "Yes, Heather-Mommy-more."
But John switched to a male touch-his old instincts-groping harder, massaging her breasts roughly, pinching just enough to elicit a yelp. Summer's eyes widened. "That's, different. Rougher. Like a guy would."
He caught himself, switching back to Heather's graceful strokes, fingers trailing down her stomach. "Sorry, sweetie. Got carried away. Let Mommy show you properly." Lower now, he spread her legs, face inches from her pussy-pink and wet, scent musky and inviting. Diving in like a horny teenager-his true self-tongue lapping eagerly, sloppy and enthusiastic, sucking her clit with fervor. "Taste so good," he mumbled against her folds.
Summer writhed, hands in his hair. "Oh God, that's intense. Like a teen boy eating me out for the first time." She noticed the shift, but moaned louder. "Don't stop-switch back if you want. It's hot."
John obliged, alternating: graceful licks with Heather's precision, then teen-like enthusiasm-fingers plunging in, curling to hit her G-spot. Summer bucked, crying out. They kissed passionately next-tongues dancing, tastes mingling, bodies grinding. "Finger me," Summer begged, guiding his hand.
He did, two fingers sliding into her tightness, pumping rhythmically while his thumb worked her clit. "Like this? Feel Mommy filling you?" Summer reciprocated, hand slipping under the nightgown to find his pussy-wet and eager-fingers dipping in, exploring. "You're so wet, Heather. Taste yourself?" They ate each other out in turns: John on his back, Summer's face buried between his legs, tongue flicking his clit expertly now, drawing moans that echoed Heather's voice. "Yes, right there, baby. Lick Mommy's pussy."
Climax built, leading to scissoring: legs intertwined, pussies grinding. First position-side by side, hips rocking, clits rubbing in slick friction. "Fuck, yes," Summer gasped, breasts bouncing. They switched: Summer on top, dominant, grinding down hard; then John atop, using Heather's hips to maximize contact, juices mixing. Multiple positions-facing each other, backs arched; one on her back, the other straddling backward for deeper pressure. Orgasms crashed simultaneously: bodies shuddering, moans filling the room, waves of pleasure rippling through them.
Exhausted, they collapsed, embracing-Summer's head on Heather's chest, legs tangled, breaths syncing. "That was, incredible," Summer whispered, kissing his neck. "Thank you."
John held her, mind blissed: My dream. Intimate with Summer. Inside and out. They drifted to sleep, bodies entwined.
Morning light filtered in early, Summer stirring first. She slipped from the bed quietly, robe on, glancing back at the sleeping form. Can't get caught. But, wow. More later? She snuck out, door clicking softly.
John woke moments later, alone, sheets tangled and scented with sex. Was that, a dream? Felt so real. But the ache between his legs, the lingering taste on his lips-No. It happened. He rolled over, wondering if it was all a massive lucid fantasy, heart racing with confusion and lingering ecstasy.
Chapter 7: Back to Reality?
John's eyelids fluttered open to the familiar sight of his bedroom ceiling, the posters of video game characters and bands staring back at him like old friends. Sunlight streamed through the half-drawn blinds, casting striped patterns across his rumpled sheets. He groaned, shifting under the covers, immediately aware of the insistent throb between his legs-morning wood, tenting his boxers, and a sticky wetness that suggested a wet dream had spilled over into reality. What the hell was that? he thought, fragments of the night flashing like a fevered montage: Summer's body writhing against his-Heather's-scissoring in ecstasy, moans echoing in a spa suite. It felt so real. Too real. But, a dream? Yeah, must be. The most intense wet dream ever. Disappointment washed over him like a cold shower, his cock twitching one last time at the memory before he willed it down. Gone. All of it-the body swap, the explorations, Summer. Just my horny brain playing tricks.
He swung his legs over the bed, feet hitting the cool hardwood floor of his room-a teenage mess of discarded clothes, gaming controllers, and empty soda cans. The house felt eerily quiet, no clatter from the kitchen or Amy's music blasting from her room. Weird. Usually Mom's up making breakfast. He stripped off his sticky boxers, tossing them into the hamper, and grabbed a fresh pair from his drawer along with jeans and a t-shirt. A quick cleanup in his attached bathroom-splashing water on his face, brushing his teeth-did little to shake the lingering haze. That dream, possessing Mom's body, fucking Summer as her. Taboo as hell. Hot, though. Wish it wasn't just a subconscious jerk-off session.
Dressed now, he headed downstairs, the stairs creaking under his weight. The kitchen was empty, no coffee brewing, no note on the counter. "Mom? Amy?" he called out, voice echoing in the silence. A glance at the clock-9 AM on a Sunday-confirmed they should be home. Where is everyone? Did they go out early? His stomach rumbled, but before he could raid the fridge, a car horn blared outside, sharp and insistent.
Curiosity piqued, John peered through the front window. There, in the driveway, was Heather's SUV, doors open as four women unloaded bags: Heather, Jessica, Amy, and Summer. The spa trip. They must've just gotten back. But something felt off-Heather looked radiant, her brunette hair windswept, wearing that sexy sun dress from the dream, hugging her curves. Jessica, ever the MILF, laughed with Amy as they hauled luggage, her blonde locks catching the light. Summer, oh, Summer. She stood a bit apart, slinging a duffel over her shoulder, but her eyes were locked on Heather, scanning her up and down with an intensity that bordered on hunger. Is she, ogling Mom? Like, checking her out? Nah, can't be. John's mind spun, the dream's echoes making everything feel surreal.
The group spotted him in the window, waving him out. John stepped onto the porch, the warm Texas air hitting him like a wave. Heather was first to approach, arms open wide. "John, sweetie! There you are." She pulled him into a tight hug, her body pressing against his-soft breasts against his chest, the faint scent of jasmine shampoo and something muskier, like sex and sweat. He hugged back awkwardly, hyper-aware of how good she felt, the dream's intimacies flashing unbidden.
Pulling back, Heather's warm brown eyes met his, a playful sparkle in them that wasn't quite, her. "So, what did you get up to while we were gone? Play any good games?" She tilted her head, smiling. "That Elden Ring you mentioned-is it still as interesting as you said? The fire giant boss sounds brutal."
John froze, his brain short-circuiting. What? Mom knows about Elden Ring? The fire giant? I never told her that. He'd rambled about it to friends, sure, but Heather? She barely knew Mario from Minecraft. "Uh, yeah, it's cool. Beat it finally." His voice came out strained, confusion mounting.
Heather winked-actually winked-at him, leaning in closer so her breath tickled his ear. "Good boy. We should chat later about some, RPGs and scenarios we could try out. When we have more privacy." Her hand lingered on his arm, a subtle squeeze that sent a jolt straight to his groin. RPGs? Scenarios? Like roleplay? What the fuck is going on? Is she, flirting? With me? Her son? His mind reeled, the dream's body swap theory suddenly not so dreamlike. No way. Did it actually happen? Was I really in her body? And she, in mine?
He stammered a response-"Sure, Mom, sounds fun?"-but recovered enough to glance at the others. Jessica and Amy were busy with bags, chatting animatedly about the spa's hot tubs. Summer, though, waved from afar, her taller frame stunning in shorts and a crop top that showcased her E-cup bust and toned midriff. "Bye, John! Catch you later?" she called, blowing him a kiss with a wink. Then, when Jessica and Amy turned away, she mouthed "Thank you," her lips forming the words clearly, followed by a scissoring motion with her fingers-index and middle crossing like grinding legs.
John's jaw dropped, heat flooding his face-and his pants. Scissoring? Like, what we did in the dream? Thank you? For what? Confusion crashed over him like a tidal wave. This can't be coincidence. It happened. The swap was real. And Summer, she knows? Or thinks it was Mom? Fuck, I need answers. He waved back weakly, hoping to grill Heather later for insights.
The goodbyes wrapped up quickly-Jessica and Summer heading next door, Amy disappearing inside with her bags. Heather shot John one last knowing smile before following Amy, leaving him on the porch, mind spinning like a glitchy game.
Later that day, the living room hummed with normalcy-or what passed for it. John lounged on the couch, controller in hand but game paused, his thoughts a whirlwind. Amy sprawled nearby, scrolling her phone, while Heather sat in the armchair, flipping through a magazine but stealing glances at him. She's different. More, aware? Flirty? If the swap happened, does she remember? Did she experience my body while I was in hers? The taboo implications made his cock stir uncomfortably-imagining Heather in his teenage form, maybe even jerking off, exploring.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, jolting him. An unknown number, but the message preview showed a link and a heart emoji. He pulled it out, opening the text: "Hey John, it's Summer. Hope you enjoy these pics from the trip ;) Maybe we can meet up later to explore and have some 'fun'? as she was curious about meeting the real John," Attached was a link to a private photo album.
Summer? Texting me? With a winky face? Heart pounding, he clicked the link, the album loading in his browser. First, innocent group shots: the four women in sexy outfits at the spa-Heather in that white bikini, cleavage enhanced; Summer frolicking in the pool, water glistening on her curves; Jessica posing like a model; Amy laughing in her swimsuit. Selfies galore, all playful and hot.
But scrolling deeper, the tone shifted. Sexy solos: Summer in her robe, parted to show a nipple; Heather-Mom-in the nightgown, hand cupping her breast suggestively. Then nudes: Summer sprawled on the bed, legs spread, fingers teasing her pussy; Heather mirroring, her modest breasts bared, fingers dipped into her slit. And the foreplay shots-oh God-the two together: kissing passionately, Summer's larger tits mashed against Heather's; fingers intertwined in each other's pussies; scissoring positions, bodies grinding, faces contorted in pleasure. Explicit, unfiltered-cum-slicked thighs, moaning expressions captured in selfies.
John nearly dropped his phone, his cock instantly hard, straining against his jeans. This is, from last night. The 'dream.' But real. They did this. Summer and, Mom? Or me in Mom's body? And she's sending it to me? The message's words echoed: Curious about the real John. Did she know? Suspect the swap?
Amy glanced over. "You okay, bro? Look like you saw a ghost."
"Yeah, fine," he muttered, shoving the phone into his pants-right over his bulge, the vibration from another buzz making him twitch. Confront Mom? Text Summer back? What the hell is going on? But beneath the confusion, gratitude bloomed. Whoever-whatever-made this happen, thank you. He rejoined the conversation with a dazed smile, intrigued and aroused, the album's secrets burning in his pocket like a promise of more taboo adventures to come.
Epilogue: Revelations and Resolutions
The weeks following the spa trip blurred into a haze of normalcy laced with undercurrents of the extraordinary, like a dream that refused to fully dissipate. Willow Creek simmered under the relentless Texas sun, barbecues and pool parties filling the air with laughter and the scent of grilled burgers, but for John, every glance at Heather or text from Summer carried the weight of unspoken secrets. The photo album burned a hole in his phone's hidden folder-explicit reminders of a night he both cherished and questioned. Was it really me in her body? Or did some cosmic force just, make it happen? And Mom-why does she act like she knows more than she's letting on? He'd caught her staring at him during family dinners, a knowing smirk playing on her lips, her usual modest demeanor laced with a playful edge that mirrored his own geeky humor.
It all came to a head one humid evening, about two weeks after the trip. Amy had gone out with friends for a movie night, leaving the house quiet except for the hum of the AC and the distant chirp of crickets. John found Heather in the living room, lounging on the couch in a simple tank top and shorts that hugged her fit figure, her brunette hair loose and tousled. She was scrolling through her phone, but set it aside when he entered, her warm brown eyes lighting up with that new, intriguing sparkle. "Hey, sweetie. Come sit. We haven't had a real chat since the trip."
John's heart pounded as he sank into the armchair across from her, his mind racing. Now or never. Confront her. Figure out what the hell happened. He cleared his throat, trying to sound casual. "Mom, about that wink the day you got back. And asking about my games. You never cared about that stuff before. What's going on?"
Heather's expression softened, but there was a flush to her cheeks, a mix of guilt and something, excited? She leaned forward, her modest B-cup breasts shifting under the tank top, drawing his eye involuntarily-a taboo flicker he shoved down. "John, honey, I need to confess something. That night before the trip, when you, well, I heard you in your room. Wishing aloud about Summer. It was late, and I was passing by to check on you. I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but, it stirred something in me."
John's face burned, embarrassment mingling with shock. She heard me jerking off? Wishing to get closer to Summer? "Mom, I-"
She held up a hand, her voice steady but laced with vulnerability. "Let me finish. I've always felt responsible for you, especially after your dad. And hearing that wish, it unlocked memories of my own wilder days. College experiments, curiosities I buried. But that night, something shifted. Like a, spark. The next morning, I woke up feeling different. More alive. And during the trip," She trailed off, biting her lip, her eyes darting away as if reliving it. God, what did I do? With Summer-my daughter's best friend. It felt so right, so intense. But was it me? Or something else?
"What about the trip?" John pressed, leaning in, his pulse racing. She thinks she did it. With Summer. But it was me-in her body.
Heather sighed, running a hand through her hair-a gesture so like his own nervous tic that it sent a chill down his spine. "Summer and I, we got close. Intimate. She came to my room that night, and I, I went with it. Roleplayed, explored. It was like I was channeling something younger, hornier. Like parts of you, maybe? Your energy?" She laughed softly, but it was tinged with self-doubt. "I feel responsible. For crossing lines with her. She's Amy's friend, and I'm, well, me. But it happened, and now I can't stop thinking about it. The thrill, the taboo."
John's mind whirled. She wasn't in my body. No swap for her. But she felt it-my influence? My personality bleeding through? Internally, relief and arousal battled: So it was me, fully. But she thinks it was her own will. And now she's, changed? Showing my traits? "Mom, that's, intense. But why the game talk? The winks?"
She smiled, a playful glint in her eye that was unmistakably his own geeky charm. "Since that night, I've felt more, adventurous. Like I've got this new side. Your side? I've even looked up some of those videos you might like. Body swap stuff, gender transformations. Kinky, right?" She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper, laced with a seductive lilt he'd heard in her body. "What if we roleplayed one? Just us. I could be the son, you the mom-or swap it. Explore those scenarios. It'd be our secret. Fun, taboo, intimate."
John's cock stirred at the suggestion, the taboo heat of it overwhelming. Mom wants to roleplay a body swap? With me? Fuck, that's my kink. But she's my step-mom, He swallowed hard, nodding slowly. "I, yeah. Maybe. We can talk about it."
Heather's eyes sparkled, reaching out to squeeze his hand. "Good. I love you, John. And I'm sorry if I overstepped with Summer. But it felt, right." She pulled back, the moment heavy with unspoken possibilities, leaving John dazed as she headed upstairs. She's got my personality now. Wants to play out my fantasies. This summer's just getting weirder-and hotter.
As the days stretched into the final week of summer break, the neighborhood buzzed with back-to-school prep, but John's focus narrowed to Summer. Texts had flown between them-flirty at first, then explicit: shared memories of the album pics, teasing promises of "meeting the real John." She knows something. That 'thank you' and scissor motion-it's like she suspects I was involved. Amy headed back to college early for orientation, and Heather busied herself with work, leaving John with pockets of freedom. The climax came on a sultry Friday evening, a text from Summer lighting up his phone: "Meet me at the old park trailhead. 8 PM. Alone. Got something to show you, and do to you. ;)"
The park was a secluded spot on the edge of town-winding trails through woods, a hidden clearing by a creek where teens snuck off for privacy. John arrived as the sun dipped low, fireflies flickering in the dusk, his nerves electric. Summer waited on a picnic blanket, looking ethereal in a short sundress that hugged her taller frame, her blonde waves glowing in the fading light, E-cup breasts straining the fabric. "John," she purred, standing to hug him-bodies pressing close, her curves against his lean form. "Finally. The real you."
They sat, the air thick with tension, a bottle of wine between them. "Summer, those pics. The trip. What happened with, Mom?" He hesitated, probing.
She smiled mysteriously, sipping wine. "Oh, I know, John. You were responsible. Somehow. That night with Heather-it was you in there, wasn't it? Your energy, your kinks spilling out. The way she switched touches, knew my favorite scenes, it was too perfect. Too you." She leaned in, her hand on his thigh. "Don't ask how I know. A girl's got her secrets. But thank you. It opened my eyes. Made me want the original."
John's breath hitched, arousal surging. She knows. Doesn't care how. Wants me. "Summer, I-"
"Shh." She kissed him, soft at first, then hungry-tongues dancing, her larger body pressing him back onto the blanket. Hands roamed: hers under his shirt, nails raking his chest; his cupping her ass, squeezing the firm cheeks. "I've wanted this since that hug when I got home. But now, after tasting a piece of you, I need the full thing."
She pushed him flat, unzipping his jeans with deft fingers, freeing his hardening cock-thick and veined, already leaking pre-cum. "Look at you. Real boy parts." She licked her lips, blue eyes locked on his as she lowered her head. Her mouth enveloped him-warm, wet, tongue swirling the head, sucking gently at first, then deeper. John groaned, hands in her blonde hair, as she bobbed-taking him halfway, then all, throat relaxing around him. Fuck, her mouth, so skilled. Bigger tits bouncing as she sucks. She hummed, vibrations sending shocks through him, one hand stroking the base while the other fondled his balls.
"Summer, God, yes," he moaned, hips bucking lightly. She popped off briefly, grinning. "Taste different. Saltier. Love it." Back down, faster now-sloppy, saliva dripping, her free hand slipping under her dress to rub her pussy. The sight pushed him close, but she sensed it, pulling off with a wet pop. "Not yet. Want you inside me first."
She straddled him, dress hiked up-no panties, her wet pussy hovering over his cock. "Condom?" he gasped.
"On the pill. Clean. You?" He nodded, and she sank down-tight, hot walls gripping him inch by inch, her E-cups bouncing as she rode. "Fuck, John, feels so good. Different from scissoring, but, perfect." She ground her hips, clit rubbing against his base, moans filling the clearing. John thrust up, hands on her breasts-squeezing, pinching nipples-then flipped her onto her back, pounding deeper. Positions shifted: missionary, her legs over his shoulders for depth; doggy, ass jiggling as he slapped it lightly; cowgirl again, her taller body dominating.
Orgasms built-hers first, pussy clenching around him, crying out as she came. He followed, pulling out to cum on her stomach-hot ropes painting her skin. Breathless, they collapsed, laughing softly. "The real John's even better," she whispered, kissing him. "More this summer? And beyond?"
"Absolutely," he replied, the gender-bending whirlwind of the break culminating in this raw, real connection. As stars emerged overhead, John thanked whatever force had twisted his wish into this taboo, erotic reality-closer to Summer than ever, inside and out.
Chapter 1: Backstory
The sun hung high over the quiet suburban neighborhood of Willow Creek, casting a golden haze over manicured lawns and white picket fences that seemed frozen in time. It was the kind of place where everyone knew everyone's business, but no one ever admitted it-secrets simmered beneath the surface like the humid Texas air in mid-July. John Thompson, an 18-year-old fresh out of high school, wiped the sweat from his brow as he pushed the old lawnmower across Jessica's expansive front yard. The machine's rumble drowned out the distant chirp of cicadas, and the scent of freshly cut grass mixed with the faint floral perfume wafting from the nearby rose bushes Jessica so meticulously tended.
John had been helping out both families for years now-his own and the neighboring one headed by Jessica and her daughter Summer. It started as odd jobs to earn pocket money: mowing lawns, fixing fences, even helping with groceries when Heather, his step-mom, was swamped with her part-time job at the local boutique. Heather had married John's dad when John was just a kid, but after his dad passed away five years ago from a sudden heart attack, it had been just the three of them: Heather, John, and Amy-Heather's biological daughter from her first marriage. Amy was 20 now, home from college for the summer, and she treated John like the annoying little brother he sometimes felt he was.
But Summer, oh, Summer was different. She'd been Amy's best friend since middle school, the kind of girl who turned heads without even trying. John had nursed a crush on her for as long as he could remember-those stolen glances during family barbecues, the way her laughter echoed like music when she and Amy gossiped in the backyard. She was 20 now too, taller than most girls at 5'10", with a lithe, athletic build from years of volleyball, sun-kissed blonde hair that cascaded in waves down her back, and a bust that filled out her tops in a way that made John's heart race. Her mom, Jessica, was the stuff of local legend-the town's ultimate MILF at 46, with platinum blonde locks, a curvy figure boasting a generous D-cup bust, and legs that seemed to go on forever. She owned a small yoga studio downtown, which kept her toned and flexible, and her flirtatious smile had broken more than a few hearts.
John paused the mower to chug from his water bottle, his t-shirt clinging to his lean, teenage frame. He wasn't unattractive-tallish at 5'11", with messy brown hair and a boyish charm-but he felt invisible next to the likes of Summer. "Just finish this up," he muttered to himself, wiping his face with the hem of his shirt. That's when he heard the car pull into the driveway.
The sleek SUV doors opened, and out stepped Summer, looking every bit the college bombshell in cutoff denim shorts that hugged her firm ass and a crop top that revealed a sliver of toned midriff. Her bigger bust-easily an E-cup-strained against the fabric, bouncing slightly as she slung her duffel bag over her shoulder. "John? Is that you?" she called out, her voice bright and melodic, waving enthusiastically.
John's heart skipped a beat. He killed the mower's engine, suddenly hyper-aware of how sweaty and disheveled he looked-grass clippings stuck to his sneakers, beads of perspiration dripping down his neck. "Uh, hey, Summer! Welcome home!" He tried to play it cool, but his voice cracked just a little.
She dropped her bag and bounded over, enveloping him in a tight hug before he could protest. Her body pressed against his-soft, warm, and smelling faintly of vanilla and sunscreen. He could feel the swell of her breasts against his chest, the curve of her hips brushing his, and for a split second, his mind blanked. "It's so good to see you! You've gotten taller or something," she laughed, pulling back but keeping her hands on his arms. Her blue eyes sparkled with genuine warmth.
John's face flushed crimson. "Y-yeah, maybe. Sorry, I'm all sweaty and gross. Wasn't expecting, you know." He gestured vaguely at himself, inwardly cursing his awkwardness. God, she looks incredible, he thought. Even better than I remembered. Those lips, that smile, what I wouldn't give to just...
Summer giggled, tilting her head. "Aw, don't worry about it. You're doing us a huge favor with the lawn. Mom's been raving about how helpful you've been." She glanced back at the house, where Jessica was unloading more bags, her own figure poured into yoga pants and a tank top that accentuated her ample cleavage. Jessica caught John's eye and waved with a wink, her blonde hair catching the light like a halo.
John opened his mouth to reply, but words failed him. Summer's proximity was overwhelming-her scent, her touch, the way her top rode up just enough to show a hint of underboob. He stood there, dumbstruck, his brain short-circuiting as he imagined what it would be like to hold her, to kiss her, to explore every inch of her perfect body. "I, uh, yeah, no problem," he finally stammered, stepping back awkwardly.
Summer smiled sympathetically, picking up her bag. "Well, catch you later? Amy and I are planning a pool day soon- you should join!" With that, she sauntered off, her hips swaying in a way that made John's knees weak.
He watched her go, his mind reeling. How does she do that? Just exist and make everything else fade away? Shaking his head, he restarted the mower, but his thoughts lingered on her-the crush that had only grown stronger over the years.
Later that afternoon, after finishing up and heading home, John bumped into Amy in the kitchen. She was perched on the counter, scrolling through her phone, her brunette hair tied back in a ponytail. Amy took after Heather-modest but attractive, with a fit body from her college track team, perky C-cup breasts, and a girl-next-door vibe. At 20, she was confident and teasing, especially with her little step-brother.
"Hey, loser," she said without looking up, popping a grape into her mouth. "Heard you were over at Jessica's. See Summer yet?"
John grabbed a soda from the fridge, trying to act nonchalant. "Yeah, she just got home. Hugged me and everything." He couldn't help the grin that crept onto his face.
Amy finally glanced at him, smirking. "Ooh, a hug? Careful, John, you might actually talk to a girl for once." She hopped down, nudging him playfully. "Seriously, though, when are you gonna get a girlfriend? You're 18 now-high school's over. You can't just mope around playing video games all summer."
John rolled his eyes, but her words stung a bit. "I'm not moping. Just, busy helping out. And who says I need a girlfriend right now?"
Amy laughed, ruffling his hair. "Come on, make some friends at least. Hit up the beach, the mall-anything. Summer's single, you know. But you'd have to actually, like, speak in full sentences around her."
If only it were that easy, John thought, his mind flashing back to the hug. She's way out of my league. But god, what I wouldn't do to be closer to her... "Yeah, yeah. I'll think about it."
The conversation fizzled as Amy headed upstairs, leaving John to ponder her advice. Dinner that evening was a typical affair-Heather had whipped up a simple pasta dish, her brunette hair pulled back, her modest blouse and jeans hugging her still-fit 45-year-old figure. Heather was classically attractive: soft curves, a B-cup bust that she carried with quiet confidence, and warm brown eyes that always seemed to know more than she let on. She was the glue holding the family together, working her boutique job while keeping the house running smoothly.
They ate at the kitchen table, chatting about mundane things-Amy's college stories, John's lawn-mowing adventures, Heather's latest customer drama. "John, sweetie, thanks for helping Jessica out today," Heather said, smiling across the table. "You're turning into quite the responsible young man."
John shrugged, blushing slightly. "No big deal, Mom." The meal wrapped up normally, with everyone retreating to their own spaces: Amy to her room for a video call with friends, Heather to the living room with a book, and John upstairs to his bedroom.
He locked the door behind him, flopping onto his bed with a sigh. The room was a typical teenage haven-posters of video games and bands on the walls, a cluttered desk with his laptop, and a faint scent of Axe body spray. But tonight, his mind was fixated on Summer. That hug, her body against mine. Fuck, she's perfect. He felt a familiar stir in his pants, his cock twitching at the memory.
Unable to resist, he grabbed his laptop, dimming the lights as he settled against the pillows. A quick incognito search brought up porn sites, and he typed in descriptors that reminded him of her: "tall blonde big tits college girl." Videos popped up-women who vaguely resembled Summer, but none captured her essence. He clicked on one: a busty blonde riding a guy reverse cowgirl, her moans filling his headphones.
John's hand slipped into his boxers, wrapping around his hardening shaft. He stroked slowly at first, imagining it was Summer on top of him, her breasts bouncing, her tight pussy gripping him. God, I wish I could get closer to her, he thought, his pace quickening. Not just know her, but be intimate. Feel her from the outside, sure, but, inside too? Like, understand her completely. The fantasy spiraled-taboo thoughts of body swaps, gender bends from the weird porn he'd stumbled upon before, where guys became girls and explored forbidden desires.
His breath hitched as the orgasm built, more intense than usual. "Fuck, I wish I could be closer to Summer, inside and out," he whispered aloud, his voice hoarse. The video played on, the actress crying out in ecstasy. John's body tensed, cum erupting in hot spurts over his hand and stomach. Waves of pleasure crashed over him, stronger than ever, his vision blurring as a strange dizziness took hold. The world spun, and suddenly-blackness. He collapsed back, unconscious, the laptop still humming softly in the dim room.
Chapter 2: Freaky Morning
The first rays of dawn filtered through the sheer curtains of Heather's bedroom, casting a soft, ethereal glow over the king-sized bed with its crisp white sheets and plush comforter. The room was a sanctuary of feminine elegance-walls painted a calming lavender, a vanity table cluttered with perfumes and jewelry, and a full-length mirror propped against the far wall, reflecting the orderly chaos of a woman's life well-lived. Heather's closet stood slightly ajar, revealing rows of neatly hung blouses, dresses, and jeans, while the faint scent of lavender sachets mingled with the subtle musk of her favorite body lotion. It was a space John had only glimpsed in passing, never truly entered, let alone woken up in.
But this morning, that's exactly where he found himself-or rather, where she found herself. John's consciousness stirred groggily, his mind foggy from what felt like the deepest sleep of his life. His body felt, off. Lighter somehow, yet weighted in unfamiliar places. He blinked against the light, rubbing his eyes with hands that seemed smaller, more delicate. What a weird dream, he thought hazily, the remnants of last night's intense orgasm flickering in his memory like a half-remembered fantasy. That blackout, must've passed out hard. A pressing urge built in his lower abdomen-the need to pee-and without much thought, he swung his legs over the side of the bed.
The nightgown whispered against his skin as he stood, a silky fabric that clung in ways his boxers never did. It was Heather's favorite-a simple lavender slip that reached mid-thigh, with thin straps and a lace-trimmed neckline that dipped just enough to hint at cleavage. John didn't register the difference yet; his brain was still booting up. He padded across the plush carpet, the cool hardwood of the en suite bathroom floor sending a shiver up his spine as he entered. The bathroom was pristine: marble counters, a deep soaking tub, and a rainfall showerhead that Heather loved for its spa-like feel. He lifted the toilet seat out of habit-wait, no, that felt wrong. Instinct took over, and he hiked up the nightgown, sat down on the cool porcelain, and let go.
The stream came easily, a soft trickle that felt strangely relieving but, different. No standing, no aiming-just sitting and releasing. He reached for the toilet paper without thinking, wiping front to back in a motion that came as naturally as breathing. Flush. Stand. Wash hands. It was all autopilot, muscle memory kicking in from a body that wasn't his. Huh, that was, easy, he mused internally, still half-asleep. Usually takes forever to wake up properly.
He shuffled to the vanity sink, the mirror fogged slightly from the humidity of the night. Grabbing Heather's toothbrush-pink-handled, with soft bristles-he squeezed on a dollop of minty toothpaste and began brushing. The rhythm was familiar, but as he raised his arm, it brushed against something soft and yielding. A jolt of sensation shot through him-nipples hardening under the fabric, a subtle weight shifting on his chest. What the...? He paused, toothbrush in mouth, and glanced down. Breasts. Actual breasts, modestly sized but pert, straining slightly against the nightgown. The toothbrush clattered into the sink as awareness crashed over him like a wave.
John's eyes widened in the mirror, staring back at a face that wasn't his. Heather's face: high cheekbones, full lips painted a natural pink from last night's gloss, warm brown eyes framed by long lashes, and a cascade of brunette hair tumbling over shoulders. "Oh my God," he whispered, but the voice that emerged was soft, feminine-Heather's voice, with its gentle Texas lilt. He gasped externally, a sharp intake of breath that echoed in the tiled room. Internally, his mind screamed: What the fuck is happening? This can't be real. Am I still dreaming? Did I die? Panic bubbled up, his new heart pounding in a chest that felt both alien and intimately responsive.
He leaned closer to the mirror, hands-slender, with manicured nails-gripping the counter. Calm down, John. Breathe. Figure this out. How had this happened? Last night, the porn, the wish whispered aloud as he came. I wish I could get closer to Summer, inside and out. Was this some cosmic joke? A body swap? Like those weird stories he'd read online, the gender bender fantasies that always got him off harder than he cared to admit. But this was real-the cool air from the AC vent brushing against his skin, making goosebumps rise, and lower, a chill teasing at exposed folds he shouldn't have. Holy shit, I have a vagina.
Curiosity edged out the panic as he calmed. If this is a dream, might as well explore. He started with the face, poking and prodding gently. Heather's skin was smooth, softer than his ever was-no stubble, just the faint peach fuzz of a woman's complexion. He stuck out his tongue-pink and agile-wagging it experimentally. Then, an UwU face: cheeks puffed, eyes wide and innocent, lips pursed in a cute pout. It looked ridiculous on Heather's mature features, but oddly endearing. A sad face next-eyebrows furrowed, lower lip trembling-as if practicing for a role in a drama. She looks, kinda hot like this, he admitted to himself, a forbidden thought creeping in.
Now, the voice. "Hello?" he tested, the word coming out smooth and melodic. He cleared his throat-her throat-and tried seductive: "Come here, big boy," drawled low and husky, with a sultry emphasis that made his new nipples tingle. Angry and authoritative: "Young man, you're grounded!" barked out, stern and commanding, the kind of tone Heather used when scolding him. Curse words for fun: "Fuck, shit, damn," he whispered, giggling at how prim and proper it sounded in her voice, then louder, "Oh, fuck me," with a moan that surprised him with its authenticity. This is insane. I sound just like her. But better? Sexier?
Satisfied for now, he ventured back into the bedroom, the nightgown swishing around his thighs. The full-body mirror beckoned, a ornate antique piece Heather had inherited from her mother. John stood before it, heart racing anew. He slipped the straps off his shoulders, letting the nightgown pool at his feet. Naked now, he stared. Heather's body-his body-was stunning in a way he'd never appreciated. At 45, she was fit from yoga classes with Jessica, her skin glowing with a natural tan. Modest B-cup breasts hung with a natural heft, nipples a dusky pink and erect from the cool air. He cupped them experimentally, feeling the weight-soft yet firm, like ripe fruit. These are, heavy. But nice. Sensitive too. A gentle squeeze sent a spark straight to his core, a warmth building between his legs.
His hands roamed lower: smooth, hairless skin everywhere except a neatly trimmed patch above his new slit. No coarse body hair, just silkiness. Legs long and dainty, toned calves leading to petite feet. He turned, admiring the curve of his ass-round and perky, not as voluptuous as Jessica's but inviting. Fingernails painted a soft nude, longer than he was used to, scratching lightly over his skin. She's gorgeous. Why didn't I notice before? Taboo, I guess. But now... The thought aroused him-her. A slickness grew between his thighs, a moist heat that made him clench involuntarily. I'm getting wet. Fuck, that's hot. But not now-gotta figure this out.
Shaking it off, he headed to the closet, an instinctive pull guiding him. Muscle memory? Heather's knowledge seeped in-he knew exactly where her lingerie drawer was, tucked in the back. He pulled out a comfortable bra: beige lace, supportive underwire. Slipping it on was effortless-arms through straps, clasp in front with a twist, adjust the cups. Whoa, that was easy. Like I've done it a thousand times. It felt amazing: the lift pushing his breasts up, creating subtle cleavage, the fabric hugging like a second skin. Panties next-a thong, black and silky, something he wouldn't have pegged for Heather's modest style. Does she wear these? Kinky, Mom. He stepped in, pulling it up; the string nestled between his ass cheeks, a constant teasing pressure, while the front panel cupped his mound, the fabric brushing his slit in a way that made him gasp. Feels, exposing. But good. Like it's right there, ready.
Clothes: tight skinny jeans that hugged his hips and ass like a glove, zipping up with a satisfying snugness. A button-up blouse in soft blue, rolling the sleeves for a casual look that accentuated his figure. This outfits screams 'hot mom.' Matches perfectly.
Drawn to the makeup vanity next-a wooden table with a lighted mirror, drawers full of palettes and brushes. He sat, brushing out the long brunette locks-silky and thick, falling to mid-back. Tying it into a loose ponytail was second nature, strands framing his face. Feels lighter now. Smells like her shampoo-floral and fresh.
The makeup array was overwhelming: foundations, blushes, eyeshadows in every shade, lipsticks from nude to bold red. So much stuff. Eyeliners, mascaras, how does she choose? But again, instinct guided him. He applied a light foundation, blending seamlessly; a touch of blush for a rosy glow; eyeliner winged just so, making his eyes pop; mascara for length; and a lipstick a shade pinker than Heather's usual, with a gloss that made his lips look fuller, kissable. Cuter, slightly seductive-eyebrows arched playfully, a hint of shimmer on the lids. Not her everyday look. More, flirty. Like I'm dolling up for something special.
Stepping back, he admired the full effect in the mirror: a vision of mature allure, jeans accentuating curves, blouse hinting at cleavage, makeup enhancing natural beauty. If this is permanent, what now? Excitement mingled with fear, but a thrill coursed through him. Summer. This could be my chance to get close. Really close. With that, he headed downstairs, ready to face whatever bizarre day awaited in his step-mom's body.
Chapter 3: "Heather"'s Day
The aroma of sizzling bacon and fresh coffee wafted through the Thompson household, a cozy two-story home nestled in the heart of Willow Creek. The kitchen was Heather's domain-granite countertops gleaming under pendant lights, a farmhouse sink piled with mixing bowls, and a window overlooking the backyard where John had spent countless summers playing catch with his late dad. But this morning, it was John-or rather, "Heather"-commanding the space with an ease that surprised even him. Dressed in those tight skinny jeans that hugged his new curves like a second skin and the button-up blouse that teased just a hint of cleavage, he moved with a fluid grace, flipping pancakes and scrambling eggs as if he'd done it a thousand times. Which, in a way, he had-Heather's muscle memory was a godsend, guiding his hands through the motions without a second thought.
What the hell is going on? John pondered internally, stirring the eggs with a wooden spoon. Am I stuck like this forever? Is this some kind of freaky punishment for jerking off to Summer? Or, fulfillment of that wish? The confusion gnawed at him, but a strange exhilaration bubbled underneath. No more awkward stares from afar; he could be close now, in ways he never imagined. But first, gotta play the part. Don't freak out the family. He set the table with Heather's favorite floral plates, humming a tune he didn't even know he knew-a soft melody from one of her yoga playlists.
As the first one up, John had the house to himself for a blissful half-hour, but soon enough, footsteps thudded down the stairs. His heart-or Heather's-skipped a beat as he wondered about his old body. What if Mom's in there? Trapped, screaming? Or, what if it's empty? The question was answered when "John" shuffled into the kitchen, yawning in his rumpled pajamas, hair tousled just like always. "Morning, Mom," the body said in John's own voice, wrapping arms around "Heather" in a casual hug. The embrace felt surreal-hugging himself, essentially-but there was no hint of anything amiss. "John" pulled back, sniffing the air. "Smells awesome. You making pancakes? Sweet."
"Yeah, sweetie, your favorite," John replied in Heather's warm tone, forcing a smile while his mind raced. He's acting just like me. Saying shit I'd say, moving like I do. Is it, on autopilot? Some kind of echo? Relief washed over him; at least no one was suffering in his place. Amy joined moments later, her ponytail bouncing as she plopped into a chair, phone in hand. "Morning, everyone! Ooh, bacon-thanks, Mom."
Breakfast unfolded in a haze of normalcy that bordered on the absurd. They chatted about the weather-hot and humid, as always in Texas-the latest neighborhood gossip, and Amy's excitement about her summer classes. John, as Heather, navigated it flawlessly: laughing at "John's" dumb joke about a video game boss, passing the syrup with a maternal nod, even scolding Amy gently for scrolling too much at the table. Internally, though, it was a mindfuck. This is me, eating with my family, but I'm Mom. Watching myself chew with my mouth open. Hearing Amy call me 'Mom.' It's like a VR sim gone wrong. A flicker of arousal stirred as he caught sight of Amy's tank top riding up, revealing a sliver of her toned stomach-taboo thoughts he quickly shoved down. Focus, dude. You're her mom now.
As the meal wrapped up, plans emerged. "John" mentioned heading out to mow more lawns-my old job, John thought wryly-while Amy talked about meeting friends downtown. "Hey, Mom," Amy said, stacking plates, "you should hit the mall today. Get that new bathing suit we talked about. Remember, tomorrow's the double date at the beach spa with Jessica and Summer! It's gonna be so fun-sun, sand, massages..."
John's new body reacted instantly: a flush of heat between his legs, nipples tightening under the bra. Double date? With Jessica and Summer? Holy shit. Images flooded his mind-Summer in a bikini, water glistening on her curves, her laughter echoing over waves. This is it. The wish. Getting closer to her, even if it's as Mom. Bizarre, but, hot? He nodded enthusiastically, Heather's voice steady. "That sounds perfect, honey. I could use a little retail therapy."
Amy grinned. "Awesome! Pick something cute. Maybe something a bit, sexier? You're still got it, Mom." She winked, and "John" chuckled, oblivious.
Once they left-the door clicking shut behind them-John was alone, the house silent except for the hum of the fridge. Okay, game on. He grabbed Heather's purse from the hook by the door-a stylish leather satchel stuffed with wallet, keys, and lip gloss-and slung it over his shoulder. Stepping out, he felt a literal spring in his step: lighter on his feet, hips swaying naturally, the thong riding up just enough to remind him of his new anatomy. Feels, empowering? Like I'm strutting.
Heather's car-a reliable SUV-waited in the driveway. Sliding into the driver's seat, he adjusted the mirror, buckling up. The seatbelt nestled between his breasts, the strap pressing against the soft mounds, creating a valley of cleavage. Whoa, that's, distracting. Unable to resist, he glanced around-no nosy neighbors watching-and cupped his boobs through the blouse, squeezing gently. The sensation zinged straight to his core, a moist warmth building. These feel amazing. So sensitive. He admired his reflection: ponytail bouncing, makeup flawless, lips plump. Looking good, 'Heather.' A little crazy? Maybe. But fuck it. Starting the engine, he pulled out, heading to the mall with a mix of nerves and excitement.
The Willow Creek Mall was bustling mid-morning: families milling about, teens in clusters, the air scented with pretzels and perfume. As "Heather," John drew glances-not suspicious, but appreciative. Men stealing looks at his ass in the jeans, women nodding at his outfit. They're checking me out. Because I'm hot. Female hot. It was a power trip, boosting his confidence as he navigated to a trendy store aimed at the 18-25 crowd-think fast fashion with edgy vibes, blasting pop music and lined with racks of crop tops and mini skirts.
Browsing the swimsuit section, he blended in at first, but soon noticed the giggles from a group of college-aged girls nearby. They're laughing at me? The 'old lady' in their store? But he ignored it, fingers trailing over fabrics until he spotted a two-piece white bikini: skimpy top with padding for extra lift, high-cut bottoms that would hug and expose his ass cheeks. This is cute. Revealing, but, why not? Summer might notice. Heart pounding, he grabbed a size that felt right-Heather's instincts again-and headed to the changing rooms.
The attendant, an 18-year-old with neon hair and a judgmental smirk, eyed him up. "Uh, can I help you? These are for, like, our demographic..."
John channeled Heather's charisma-poise he'd never had as himself. He flashed a warm smile, tilting his head flirtatiously. "Oh, honey, age is just a number. But if you insist, maybe you can help me decide if this makes me look too, youthful?" He added a wink and a light laugh, funny yet charming, disarming her completely.
The girl blinked, then grinned. "Okay, fair. Room three's open. Knock yourself out."
Inside the cramped stall, mirror-lined walls reflecting every angle, John stripped slowly. Off came the blouse, jeans pooling at his feet, bra unclasped-breasts freed, nipples perking in the cool air. The thong slipped down, revealing his smooth mound, already glistening slightly from anticipation. Time to see. He stepped into the bikini bottoms, the fabric snug against his slit, riding up to accentuate his ass. The top tied on, padding pushing his B-cups into fuller, perkier cleavage. Damn, I look, fuckable.
Letting his hair down-waves cascading-he posed: hands on hips, seductive smirk, touching himself all over. Fingers traced his collarbone, down to squeeze his enhanced boobs, thumbs circling nipples until they ached. So soft, so responsive. He turned, admiring his ass-cheeks peeking out, firm and inviting. Then, cutesy mode: innocent pout, batting lashes, imagining compliments from Jessica and Summer. "Oh, Heather, you look amazing!" he'd coo in a high pitch, giggling.
But thoughts turned to Summer: her taller frame in a bikini, bigger bust spilling out, water droplets tracing her curves. God, she'd look incredible. Wet, shiny... Arousal hit hard-his pussy throbbing, slickness soaking the bottoms. Can't ignore this anymore. He slipped a hand down, rubbing his clit through the fabric-electric sparks shooting through him. Fuck, that's intense. Boldly, he pushed the bottoms aside, fingers dipping into his wet folds, one then two sliding in. The fullness, the warmth-moans escaped, soft at first, then louder: "Oh, yes..." He pumped gently, thumb on clit, imagining Summer's body against his. The attendant might have heard-the stall walls thin-but he didn't care, stopping just short of climax. Later. Save it.
Composed again, he dressed and checked out. The cashier-a young guy-rang him up, but John scratched an itch near his crotch crudely, like a guy adjusting his balls. Oops. The cashier flushed, thinking, Hot mom, but, that was weird. Kinda unladylike.
Back home, cooking dinner was effortless: Heather's recipes ingrained, whipping up lasagna with garlic bread. When Amy and "John" returned, he roleplayed perfectly-asking about their days, laughing at stories, no suspicions raised. This is trippy. Engaging with myself.
After dinner, alone time with Amy in her room: posters of bands, clothes strewn about. She changed for bed into a provocative outfit-tiny shorts and a crop top, no bra, nipples visible through thin fabric. John stared voyeuristically, heat building. She's hot. Like Mom, but younger. Amy chatted about the spa: private massages, saunas, hot tubs. "And who knows, Mom? We might spot some hot guys. You could use a fling!" She teased, winking.
John laughed, but internally: Guys? Nah. But Summer... Excited, he headed to bed, following Heather's routine: face wash, lotion, nightgown. In the nightstand, a small vibrator-pink, discreet. Mom's got toys? Kinky.
Lying back, he buzzed it to life, pressing against his clit. Oh fuck. Imagining the spa: Jessica in a thong, bust overflowing; Summer nude, legs spread; even Amy, playful and bare. They touched, kissed-taboo fantasies blending. Orgasms crashed over him, waves of pleasure making his body arch, moans muffled into the pillow. Exhausted, he drifted to sleep, dreaming of tomorrow's possibilities.
Chapter 4: Before the Outing
The alarm on Heather's nightstand buzzed softly at 7 AM, pulling John from a deep, dreamless sleep. He stretched languidly under the sheets, his body-Heather's body-responding with a supple arch that made his breasts shift and his hips roll in a way that felt both foreign and intoxicating. The vibrator from last night lay innocently on the pillow beside him, a silent reminder of the explosive orgasm that had rocked him to his core. Holy shit, that was real, he thought, a grin spreading across Heather's full lips as he sat up. I'm still here. Still her. And today, today I get to see Summer up close. In a spa. With bikinis and massages and, God, what if things get steamy? Excitement coursed through him, mingling with a low hum of arousal that made his new pussy tingle faintly.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed, the cool morning air teasing his skin through the thin nightgown. Padding to the en suite bathroom, he caught his reflection in the mirror-hair tousled from sleep, makeup smudged just enough to look sultry rather than sloppy. I look like a woman who's had a wild night. Fitting. Stripping off the nightgown, he stepped into the shower, turning the water to a steamy hot spray that cascaded over his curves like a lover's touch. The sensation was overwhelming: water beading on his breasts, trickling down his flat stomach, pooling between his thighs. He lathered up with Heather's body wash-a luxurious blend of vanilla and jasmine that made his skin slick and silky.
This feels incredible, he marveled internally, hands roaming as he washed. Fingers grazed his nipples, hardening them into peaks that sent jolts straight to his core. Lower, he soaped his pussy gently, the suds mixing with a fresh slickness as thoughts of Summer invaded his mind. Her body wet like this, blonde hair plastered to her big tits, laughing as she splashes Amy, Fuck, I can't wait. But the real star was the shampoo: a fruity, botanical concoction of mango and hibiscus that filled the steam with an exotic, heady aroma. He massaged it into his scalp, the long strands heavy and fragrant under his fingers. Smells like paradise. Like her-Summer always has that tropical vibe. Rinsing off, he lingered under the spray, one hand slipping between his legs to rub his clit in slow circles. A soft moan escaped-Heather's voice, husky with desire. Just a tease. Save the big one for later, maybe with her. He stopped before climax, toweling off with a fluffy robe that hugged his figure, still buzzing with anticipation.
Downstairs in the kitchen, the family routine kicked in. John, as Heather, whipped up a quick breakfast-avocado toast with eggs, fresh fruit on the side-while "John" and Amy trickled in. "Morning, everyone," he said brightly, plating the food. Time to probe. What's my old body been up to? He turned to "John," who was shoveling toast into his mouth just like he always did. "So, sweetie, what have you been up to these last couple days? Any fun plans while we're gone?"
"John" shrugged, mid-bite. "Eh, mostly gaming. Finally beat that level in Elden Ring- you know, the one with the fire giant? Took forever, but I cheesed it with the bleed build."
John's excitement spiked-That's my game! I was stuck on that boss for weeks!-and he leaned in, Heather's eyes lighting up. "Oh, really? The fire giant? Isn't that the one where you have to dodge those massive AOE attacks? And the bleed build-smart, using rivers of blood katana, right? Pairs great with the mimic tear summon."
"John" blinked, surprised but nodding. "Yeah, exactly! Wait, Mom, since when do you know about Elden Ring builds?"
Amy, overhearing from her seat, paused with her coffee mug halfway to her lips. "Whoa, Mom, you're a gamer now? That's, kinda cool, but random."
Panic flickered in John's mind-Shit, too much. Slipped into my own geek mode. But Heather's poise bubbled up, that effortless charisma saving the day. He laughed lightly, waving a hand dismissively. "Oh, honey, I've picked up a thing or two listening to you ramble about it. Plus, I read an article the other day-something about how video games improve reflexes. Keeps me young!" He added a wink, steering the conversation smoothly to Amy's classes, and the moment passed without suspicion. Close call. But damn, it's weird hearing about my own life from the outside.
After breakfast, with "John" heading out for more chores and Amy lingering to help clean up, John retreated upstairs to pack. The closet called to him again, and rummaging through Heather's wardrobe, his eyes landed on a sexy sun dress he'd somehow overlooked before: a vibrant red number with a deep V-neck that plunged daringly between the breasts, thin straps, and a flowy skirt that hit mid-thigh, perfect for showing off legs and a hint of cleavage. This is fire. Shows off everything-boobs, ass, the works. He slipped it on, the fabric whispering against his skin, hugging his curves before flaring out. Twirling in the mirror, he admired how it accentuated his bust, the material thin enough that his nipples poked through if he got chilled. Summer's gonna love this. Wait, no- she's straight, right? But maybe...
Packing was quick: the new white bikini folded neatly into an overnight bag, along with other fun outfits-a sheer cover-up that would tease skin, lacy lingerie just in case things heated up, and casual shorts with a crop top for lounging. Prepared for anything. Massages, saunas, who knows what could happen in private? A thrill shot through him, his pussy clenching at the possibilities.
As they got ready to leave, Amy appeared in the doorway, eyeing the dress with raised eyebrows. "Damn, Mom! That dress is hot. You're gonna turn heads at the spa. Jessica might get jealous-she's usually the MILF queen."
John flushed-Heather's cheeks warming-but played it cool with a playful spin. "Thanks, sweetie. Figured why not? Life's too short for boring clothes." Amy laughed, complimenting his makeup too-the subtle smokey eyes he'd added for extra allure. They headed out together, leaving "John" with a wave and instructions to behave, the SUV purring down the driveway toward the beach spa an hour away.
---
Meanwhile, across the neighborhood at the Summers' residence-a modern ranch-style home with a sprawling backyard pool and Jessica's yoga mats scattered on the deck-preparations were in full swing. Jessica, at 46, moved with the grace of a woman who knew her power, her platinum blonde hair tied in a high ponytail as she packed her bag in the sunlit kitchen. She wore yoga leggings and a sports bra for the drive, her generous D-cup bust straining against the fabric, curves honed from years of downward dogs and warrior poses. Summer, her 20-year-old daughter, was upstairs in her room, a feminine haven of pastel walls, volleyball trophies, and posters of indie bands.
"Summer, honey, you almost ready?" Jessica called up the stairs, zipping her bag with swimsuits, lotions, and a bottle of wine for the evening. "Heather and Amy should be meeting us soon-don't forget your sunscreen!"
"Coming, Mom!" Summer replied, her voice light but laced with a secret excitement. She stood before her mirror, adjusting a casual tank top and shorts over her bikini, her taller frame making everything look model-esque. Blonde waves framed her face, and her E-cup breasts filled out the top perfectly, a natural bounce with each movement. God, I'm buzzing, she thought, inner monologue racing as she packed. A whole day at the spa with Amy, and Heather. Heather. A flush crept up her neck at the thought. Summer had always been the popular girl-cheerful, athletic, surrounded by friends-but deep down, she harbored a secret: a growing attraction to women that she'd never voiced. College had opened her eyes-stolen glances in the dorm showers, butterflies around pretty professors-but back home, it simmered unspoken.
Heather's always been so, elegant. Fit, brunette, that quiet sexiness. And lately, I've caught myself staring. Is it a crush? She bit her lip, imagining Heather in a swimsuit, their bodies close during a massage. Women are just, softer. Curvier. More intoxicating. Amy's hot too, but Heather-mature, experienced. What if I could, explore? The thought made her nipples harden, a warmth pooling between her legs. She shook it off, grabbing her bag. "Okay, Mom, let's go!"
Downstairs, Jessica hugged her daughter, their dialogue easy and affectionate. "You excited? It's been ages since we did a girls' trip like this."
"Totally," Summer said, grinning. "Pool time, massages-perfection. And hanging with Amy and Heather will be fun."
Jessica raised an eyebrow teasingly. "Heather, huh? You've always had a soft spot for her. She's like a second mom."
Summer laughed it off, but internally: If only you knew. "Yeah, something like that."
They loaded the car, chatting about spa details-private saunas, ocean views-and headed out, the drive filled with laughter and playlists.
---
Back to John as Heather: they arrived at the beach spa first, a luxurious resort overlooking the Gulf, with palm trees swaying and the scent of salt air mingling with essential oils. Stepping out, John smoothed the sun dress, the skirt fluttering in the breeze to reveal toned thighs. Here we go. Jessica's SUV pulled up moments later, and as she emerged-looking every bit the cougar in a wrap dress that hugged her bust-John greeted her with la bise, the European cheek kisses they always did. "Jessica, darling, you look fabulous," he purred in Heather's voice, their cheeks brushing, scents mingling.
"You too, Heather- that dress! Sexy as hell," Jessica replied with a laugh.
But then Summer stepped out, and John froze. She was stunning: a floral sundress similar to his but shorter, accentuating her long legs, bigger bust spilling slightly at the neckline, blonde hair glowing in the sun. Fuck, she's a goddess. Taller, thinner, those tits, I could stare forever. His body reacted-pussy dampening, heart racing.
Summer, meanwhile, was equally awestruck. Heather looks, different. Hotter. That makeup, the dress-cleavage for days. Is she flirting with the world today? Her cheeks pinked as they locked eyes. "Hey, Heather," she said softly, moving in for a hug.
The embrace was electric: bodies pressing close, John's breasts mashing against Summer's larger ones, soft and yielding through thin fabrics. He inhaled her scent-vanilla and sunscreen-feeling the warmth of her skin, the subtle curve of her hips. Oh God, this feels amazing. Her boobs against mine, so full, so perfect. A forbidden thrill shot through him, his nipples hardening.
Summer pulled back reluctantly, blushing deeper. That hug, her body feels so good. Soft, warm. I want more. Jessica and Amy were already chatting animatedly about the itinerary, laughing as they grabbed bags. "Come on, ladies-let's check in!" Jessica goaded, leading the way.
John followed, mind spinning with possibilities, the group entering the spa's grand lobby, ready for whatever intimacies the day held.
Chapter 5: Getting Close to Summer
The Azure Waves Beach Spa Resort sprawled along the Gulf Coast like a hidden paradise, its white stucco buildings accented with turquoise trim, palm-fringed pools shimmering under the relentless Texas sun, and the distant crash of waves providing a rhythmic soundtrack to indulgence. The lobby was a haven of luxury: marble floors cooled by ocean breezes, plush seating areas dotted with tropical plants, and the faint scent of eucalyptus from the spa diffusers. As the group checked in, the receptionist-a perky young woman with a name tag reading "Mia"-handed over key cards with a smile. "Welcome, ladies! Your suites are in the Ocean Wing. Pool's open all day, and your massages are booked for 3 PM. Enjoy!"
John, still inhabiting Heather's body, clutched his key card tightly, his manicured fingers trembling slightly with a mix of nerves and exhilaration. The hug with Summer lingered in his mind-the press of her larger breasts against his, the warmth of her breath on his neck, that telltale blush coloring her cheeks as they pulled apart. She blushed. Hard. Was that because of me? Or, Heather? Does she feel something too? He wondered internally, a spark of hope igniting in his chest. This body swap thing is nuts, but if it means getting close to her like this, I'll take it. The group dispersed to their individual suites with plans to reconvene at the main pool in an hour, Amy and Jessica chattering excitedly about cocktails and sunbathing.
John's suite was a slice of opulence: a spacious room with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the beach, a king bed draped in crisp linens, and a private balcony where the sea air whispered promises of relaxation. A mini-bar stocked with chilled wines and fruits sat invitingly by the desk, and the bathroom boasted a rainfall shower and plush robes. Alone at last, he set his bag down and faced the full-length mirror, Heather's reflection staring back-sun dress hugging curves, ponytail slightly tousled from the drive. Time to change. Make it fun. A mischievous grin spread across his lips as he decided to indulge in the moment, turning the simple act of changing into a private spectacle.
He started slow, swaying his hips to an imaginary beat, fingers tracing the thin straps of the dress. Strip tease for one. Why not? This body's made for it. He slipped one strap down, then the other, letting the fabric pool at his waist, exposing Heather's lacy bra that cradled his modest B-cup breasts. Cupping them, he squeezed gently, thumbs circling nipples until they peaked, a soft gasp escaping-Heather's voice, breathy and feminine. Feels so good. Sensitive as hell. The dress fell to the floor in a whisper, leaving him in just the thong panties, the string nestled teasingly between his ass cheeks. He turned, admiring the view: smooth skin, toned legs, the curve of his hips flaring out invitingly. Hooking thumbs into the thong, he bent forward dramatically, sliding it down slowly, ass presented to the mirror as his pussy came into view-already glistening with arousal. Look at that. Wet just from thinking about her. He stepped out of the panties, fully nude now, and struck poses: one hand on hip, the other trailing down his stomach to brush his clit, eliciting a shiver.
Grabbing the white two-piece bikini from his bag, he made the donning equally erotic. First the bottoms: stepping in exaggeratedly, pulling them up so the fabric hugged his mound, the high-cut sides framing his ass like a work of art. He adjusted the front, fingers dipping briefly into his folds for a teasing rub. Mmm, tight fit. Shows off everything. The top came next-tying it behind his back with a flourish, the padding lifting his breasts into fuller, perkier cleavage that spilled slightly at the edges. He bounced on his toes, watching them jiggle. Damn, I look hot. Summer's gonna notice. Hair down in waves, a quick touch-up of lip gloss, and he wrapped a towel around his waist like a sarong, heading out with a sway in his step that felt utterly natural.
The pool area was a tropical oasis: infinity edges blending with the ocean horizon, cabanas with billowing white curtains, and lounge chairs lined up under umbrellas. Waitstaff in crisp uniforms circulated with trays of fruity cocktails. John spotted Jessica first, and his jaw nearly dropped. She lounged by the chairs like a predator in wait-a super sexy MILF cougar ready to pounce. Her one-piece swimsuit was a masterpiece of temptation: black with strategic cutouts along the sides and midriff, plunging neckline showcasing her generous D-cup bust, the fabric clinging to her curves like a second skin. It looked straight off a supermodel runway, accentuating her toned legs and the subtle sway of her hips. Blonde hair cascaded freely, sunglasses perched on her nose, a knowing smile on her lips.
Holy fuck, Jessica, John thought, a droplet of drool nearly escaping as he approached. She's always been hot, but this? Lethal. "Jessica, wow-you look incredible," he said in Heather's warm voice, eyes lingering a beat too long on her cleavage.
She laughed, standing to hug him-bodies pressing close, her bust against his making his nipples harden instantly. "Coming from you? Please, Heather, that bikini is fire. White on your tan? Chef's kiss." She pulled back, handing him a vibrant cocktail-something pink and garnished with pineapple. "Mai Tai. Figured we'd start strong." Then, with a flirtatious grin, she offered her hand. "Shall we? Chairs are this way."
John took it, their fingers intertwining, skin warm and soft. Internally, he freaked: Hand-holding with Jessica? While she looks like that? How do I even talk without staring at her tits? But as they walked, the panic ebbed, replaced by awe as his gaze shifted to the pool. There, frolicking in the water, was Summer-splashing Amy with gleeful abandon, her laughter ringing out like music. She wore a skimpy red bikini that left little to the imagination: top straining against her E-cup breasts, bottoms tied at the sides with bows that begged to be undone. Water glistened on her taller, thinner frame, droplets tracing paths down her toned abs and long legs. Amy, in a sporty blue two-piece that hugged her perky C-cups and athletic build, laughed back, but John's eyes were glued to Summer. Oh my God. She's perfection. Bouncing in the water like that, I could watch forever.
They settled into adjacent lounge chairs, cocktails in hand, the sun warming their skin. John sipped his drink-sweet and potent, rum hitting just right-while freaking out internally about small talk. What do I say? Weather? No, too lame. But Heather's essence surged forward: that natural charisma, the ease of conversation she'd always had. "So, Jess, tell me-how's the yoga studio been? Any new hot instructors catching your eye?" he asked with a teasing lilt, leaning back to mirror her relaxed pose.
Jessica chuckled, sipping her drink. "Oh, you know me-always scouting talent. There's this one guy, mid-20s, abs for days. But honestly, I've been too busy. What about you? Dating scene treating you well since, you know." Her voice softened, referencing Heather's widowhood without dwelling.
The chat flowed effortlessly: gossip about neighborhood drama (Mrs. Wilkins' latest affair scandal), shared laughs over parenting woes (Amy's college antics mirroring Summer's), and deeper tidbits-Jessica confessing her secret love for trashy romance novels, John sharing Heather's fondness for gardening mixed with his own taste in indie films. This is wild. I'm learning stuff about her I'd never know as John. All the while, his eyes darted to Summer in the pool: her lithe body diving under, emerging with hair slicked back, breasts heaving with each breath. So close. I can hear her laugh, see every curve. This is heaven.
Summer, mid-splash with Amy, glanced over occasionally, catching "Heather" watching. She's staring. At me? Curiosity bloomed in her chest, a warm flutter between her legs. Heather's always been gorgeous, but today, that bikini, those eyes on me. Does she feel it too?
Hours melted away in glorious voyeurism-John reveling in Summer's every move, the way water beaded on her skin, her playful shrieks as Amy dunked her. But Amy eventually broke the spell, swimming to the edge. "Hey, ladies! Massage time-let's go! Don't want to be late."
Summer climbed out, water cascading off her body as she approached the chairs. Up close, John drank her in: the red bikini clinging wetly, nipples faintly visible through the fabric, her taller frame towering slightly, ass cheeks peeking from the bottoms. Fuck, she's dripping. Warm and fuzzy? I'm on fire. Summer's eyes roamed Heather's body too-the white bikini enhancing cleavage, the way it hugged her slit subtly. Heather looks, edible. That lift in her boobs, her legs, God, I'm getting wet just looking.
The group toweled off and headed to the massage suite, a serene wing with dim lighting, soft instrumental music, and the scent of lavender oil. Private rooms branched off a central changing area with lockers and robes. John decided to go with the flow-Never had a massage before. Might as well enjoy. In the changing room, privacy screens offered partial cover, but glimpses were inevitable. He stripped slowly: bikini top untied, breasts freed with a bounce; bottoms slid down, exposing his smooth pussy. Sneaking peeks, he caught Jessica's nude form-voluptuous curves, shaved mound, ass like a peach. Amy's athletic body-perky tits, trimmed bush. But Summer, Jesus. Tall and lithe, her E-cups heavy and natural, pink nipples erect from the cool air, pussy with a neat landing strip. She bent to pick up her robe, ass presented, folds peeking invitingly.
Summer stole a glance back, eyes widening at Heather's body: modest but toned, breasts pert, pussy bare and glistening slightly. She's beautiful. Smooth everywhere, I want to touch. Both flushed, slipping into thin massage gowns-paper-thin fabric that hid little.
In the massage room-four tables side by side, therapists waiting with oils-John lay face-down, the gown parting to expose his back. As hands kneaded his muscles, tension melted, and conversation sparked with Summer on the next table. "This feels amazing," he sighed in Heather's voice. "First time for a pro massage?"
Summer turned her head, smiling. "Yeah, me too. Kinda nervous, but, relaxing. How's your summer been, Heather? Amy says you've been busy."
Small talk evolved: college life (Summer's volleyball team drama), favorites (John mixing his indie rock playlists with Heather's classic jazz, movies like his sci-fi faves blended with her rom-coms). "I love those mind-bendy films," he shared. "Like, ones that twist reality."
Depth crept in: dreams, fears. Then, intimacy. "Speaking of twists," Summer ventured shyly, "have you ever, experimented? With, um, relationships?"
John's heart raced-Heather's bi-curiosity surfacing in memories. "Honestly? Yes. I've always been curious about women. Experimented in college-a few flings. It's, liberating." True for her body. And hot to admit.
Summer's eyes lit up, ecstatic. Heather? Into women? Experimented? Oh my God. Internally: This could be my chance. Make a move later?
They delved deeper-Summer confessing, "I'm curious too. About my sexuality. Not sure yet, but, girls intrigue me. Not tell Amy or Mom, okay? Secret."
"I promise," John replied, mind whirling with ideas. She's a closet lesbian? Perfect. Crazy plans brewing-could I, with her? As Heather?
Topics shifted, landing on porn anecdotes for laughs. "Weirdest kink?" Summer teased.
John feigned shyness. "Oh, God, okay, MILF stuff, mom/son or mom/daughter roleplay. And, gender transformation, body swaps. Some TG/trans stuff. Plausible for me, right?" My actual kinks. Living one now.
Summer's intrigue peaked-surprised, aroused. Body swaps? Hot. I could listen to her forever. "Tell me more sometime?"
Massages ended, leading to dinner at the resort's seaside restaurant: candlelit tables, fresh seafood, wine flowing. Gossip flew-day's highlights, spa tales. Amy probed: "So, who caught your eye today? Hot guys around?"
Jessica grinned. "That lifeguard-tall, tanned. Yum." But John and Summer blushed, stammering vague answers, eyes meeting across the table with shared heat.
Back in his suite, John unwound, reflecting. Unbelievable. Staring at Summer all day, sharing secrets. She's into girls-maybe me. Even if not as John, worth it? He pondered his kinks: Living a body swap fantasy. Porn come to life.
Chapter 6: Summer Makes Her Move
The resort's restaurant lingered in Summer's mind like a hazy afterglow as she slipped back into her suite, the door clicking shut behind her with a soft finality. The room was a mirror of Heather's-ocean views framed by gauzy curtains, the bed inviting with its turned-down sheets, and the faint hum of waves crashing outside like a lullaby. But sleep was the last thing on her mind. Dinner had been electric: the way Heather's eyes had met hers across the table, that shared blush when Amy teased about crushes, the wine loosening tongues and inhibitions. Heather, into women? Experimented? And those kinks-body swaps, MILF roleplay. God, it's like she read my fantasies. Summer's skin tingled with the memory, a warmth spreading from her chest downward as she kicked off her sandals and padded to the mirror.
She stood there, illuminated by the soft glow of the bedside lamp, her red bikini swapped earlier for a simple tank top and shorts that clung to her damp skin from the evening humidity. Look at you, she thought, inner monologue swirling with a mix of nerves and desire. Twenty years old, closet lesbian, crushing on your best friend's mom. Pathetic? Or, bold? Her hands moved almost of their own accord, slipping under the hem of her tank top to lift it slowly over her head. Blonde waves tumbled free, framing her face as she tossed the top aside. Her E-cup breasts bounced gently, freed from confinement, nipples already hardening in the cool air-conditioned room. She cupped them, thumbs brushing the sensitive peaks, a soft sigh escaping her lips. So full, so sensitive. Imagine her hands on them-Heather's. Mature, knowing touch.
The shorts came next, shimmying down her long legs to reveal lacy panties that matched her earlier bikini-red and sheer, hinting at the neatly trimmed blonde patch beneath. She turned, admiring her reflection: taller frame lean and athletic from volleyball, ass firm and rounded, thighs toned from endless practices. I'm hot. She noticed me today-ogling at the pool, in the changing room. Those eyes on my body, Arousal built like a tide, her pussy aching with need. She slipped a hand into her panties, fingers finding her clit-swollen and slick already. Circling slowly, she moaned softly, imagining Heather's voice from the massage: I've experimented, curious about women. "Fuck," Summer whispered, her free hand pinching a nipple. What if I went to her room right now? Knocked, told her I can't stop thinking about her. Experimented, with me.
The fantasy spiraled: Heather pulling her inside, lips crashing, hands exploring. She's bi-curious. Shared those secrets. This could happen. Her fingers dipped lower, sliding into her wet folds, pumping gently as her knees weakened. Mentor me, like in those porn vids-the mom teaching the daughter. God, yes. Orgasm hovered close, but she stopped, breathing ragged. No. Not alone. Go to her. Now. Panties off, she grabbed a silk robe from the closet-thin and short, tying it loosely so it gaped at the front, hinting at her nudity beneath. Heart pounding, she slipped out into the dimly lit hallway, bare feet silent on the carpet, making her way to Heather's door. This is crazy. But if she turns me away, at least I tried. She knocked softly, pulse racing.
---
Back in Heather's suite, John paced the room, the nightgown whispering against his skin like a lover's promise. The silk fabric clung to his curves, nipples visible through the thin material, a constant reminder of his borrowed body. Dinner replayed in his mind: the gossip, the laughter, Summer's blush mirroring his own. She shared she's curious. About girls. And I-Heather-admitted to experimenting. Fuck, the ideas in my head, could I seduce her? As Mom? Taboo as hell, but, hot. He ran a hand through his brunette waves, arousal simmering from the day's sights-Summer's body, wet and glistening, her secret glances. Living my kink. Body swap porn come true. If only I could-
A knock shattered the silence. John's heart-or Heather's-leaped into his throat. Who the hell? At this hour? Peeking through the peephole, his breath caught: Summer, in a robe that barely contained her, blonde hair tousled, eyes wide with nervous determination. Oh shit. It's her. What does she want? Internally freaking: Calm down. Play it cool. But, what if this is it? He smoothed the nightgown, took a deep breath, and opened the door. "Summer? Is everything okay?"
She didn't answer with words. Stepping inside, she pushed the door shut behind her, locked it with a click, and surged forward. Her hands cupped Heather's face-John's face-and she kissed him fiercely, lips soft and urgent, tongue seeking entry. John gasped into the kiss, body responding instinctively: arms wrapping around her waist, pulling her close. The robe gaped, her naked breasts pressing against the nightgown, heat radiating through the fabric. Holy fuck, she's kissing me. Naked under there? This is happening. They stumbled backward, Summer guiding him toward the bed, her taller frame dominant yet gentle.
Breaking the kiss, Summer's blue eyes locked onto his, cheeks flushed. "Heather, I can't get you out of my head. All day-the pool, the changing room, the massage. You were staring. Ogling me. And what you said, about being curious, experimenting. It lit something in me."
John's mind reeled, but Heather's charisma surged: "Summer, honey, I noticed you too. Blushing, glancing back. You're beautiful. Irresistible." This is insane. My crush, making the move on me-as her. His pussy throbbed, wet and aching.
Summer's hands roamed, slipping under the nightgown to caress his hips. "I, I've never done this. With a woman. But I want to. With you." She hesitated, biting her lip. "Remember your kinks? The roleplay stuff? I have a favorite porn vid, the mom mentoring her daughter, teaching her about sex. Gentle at first, then, passionate. Will you? Roleplay that for me? Be the mom, show me?"
John's arousal spiked-One of my favorites too. The taboo mentor scene. He nodded, letting go, autopilot kicking in. Heather's sultriness blended with his knowledge, reciting lines perfectly. "Oh, sweetie," he purred in Heather's voice, seductive and maternal, "come here. Mommy's going to teach you everything. Make you feel so good." He pushed Summer gently onto the bed, climbing atop her, nightgown hiking up to reveal his thighs.
Summer moaned, robe falling open completely, exposing her nude body-breasts heaving, pussy glistening. John fondled her with grace: hands tracing her sides, cupping her E-cups softly, thumbs rolling nipples with deliberate, experienced touches. "Like this, baby? Feel how sensitive they are?" Summer arched, gasping. "Yes, Heather-Mommy-more."
But John switched to a male touch-his old instincts-groping harder, massaging her breasts roughly, pinching just enough to elicit a yelp. Summer's eyes widened. "That's, different. Rougher. Like a guy would."
He caught himself, switching back to Heather's graceful strokes, fingers trailing down her stomach. "Sorry, sweetie. Got carried away. Let Mommy show you properly." Lower now, he spread her legs, face inches from her pussy-pink and wet, scent musky and inviting. Diving in like a horny teenager-his true self-tongue lapping eagerly, sloppy and enthusiastic, sucking her clit with fervor. "Taste so good," he mumbled against her folds.
Summer writhed, hands in his hair. "Oh God, that's intense. Like a teen boy eating me out for the first time." She noticed the shift, but moaned louder. "Don't stop-switch back if you want. It's hot."
John obliged, alternating: graceful licks with Heather's precision, then teen-like enthusiasm-fingers plunging in, curling to hit her G-spot. Summer bucked, crying out. They kissed passionately next-tongues dancing, tastes mingling, bodies grinding. "Finger me," Summer begged, guiding his hand.
He did, two fingers sliding into her tightness, pumping rhythmically while his thumb worked her clit. "Like this? Feel Mommy filling you?" Summer reciprocated, hand slipping under the nightgown to find his pussy-wet and eager-fingers dipping in, exploring. "You're so wet, Heather. Taste yourself?" They ate each other out in turns: John on his back, Summer's face buried between his legs, tongue flicking his clit expertly now, drawing moans that echoed Heather's voice. "Yes, right there, baby. Lick Mommy's pussy."
Climax built, leading to scissoring: legs intertwined, pussies grinding. First position-side by side, hips rocking, clits rubbing in slick friction. "Fuck, yes," Summer gasped, breasts bouncing. They switched: Summer on top, dominant, grinding down hard; then John atop, using Heather's hips to maximize contact, juices mixing. Multiple positions-facing each other, backs arched; one on her back, the other straddling backward for deeper pressure. Orgasms crashed simultaneously: bodies shuddering, moans filling the room, waves of pleasure rippling through them.
Exhausted, they collapsed, embracing-Summer's head on Heather's chest, legs tangled, breaths syncing. "That was, incredible," Summer whispered, kissing his neck. "Thank you."
John held her, mind blissed: My dream. Intimate with Summer. Inside and out. They drifted to sleep, bodies entwined.
Morning light filtered in early, Summer stirring first. She slipped from the bed quietly, robe on, glancing back at the sleeping form. Can't get caught. But, wow. More later? She snuck out, door clicking softly.
John woke moments later, alone, sheets tangled and scented with sex. Was that, a dream? Felt so real. But the ache between his legs, the lingering taste on his lips-No. It happened. He rolled over, wondering if it was all a massive lucid fantasy, heart racing with confusion and lingering ecstasy.
Chapter 7: Back to Reality?
John's eyelids fluttered open to the familiar sight of his bedroom ceiling, the posters of video game characters and bands staring back at him like old friends. Sunlight streamed through the half-drawn blinds, casting striped patterns across his rumpled sheets. He groaned, shifting under the covers, immediately aware of the insistent throb between his legs-morning wood, tenting his boxers, and a sticky wetness that suggested a wet dream had spilled over into reality. What the hell was that? he thought, fragments of the night flashing like a fevered montage: Summer's body writhing against his-Heather's-scissoring in ecstasy, moans echoing in a spa suite. It felt so real. Too real. But, a dream? Yeah, must be. The most intense wet dream ever. Disappointment washed over him like a cold shower, his cock twitching one last time at the memory before he willed it down. Gone. All of it-the body swap, the explorations, Summer. Just my horny brain playing tricks.
He swung his legs over the bed, feet hitting the cool hardwood floor of his room-a teenage mess of discarded clothes, gaming controllers, and empty soda cans. The house felt eerily quiet, no clatter from the kitchen or Amy's music blasting from her room. Weird. Usually Mom's up making breakfast. He stripped off his sticky boxers, tossing them into the hamper, and grabbed a fresh pair from his drawer along with jeans and a t-shirt. A quick cleanup in his attached bathroom-splashing water on his face, brushing his teeth-did little to shake the lingering haze. That dream, possessing Mom's body, fucking Summer as her. Taboo as hell. Hot, though. Wish it wasn't just a subconscious jerk-off session.
Dressed now, he headed downstairs, the stairs creaking under his weight. The kitchen was empty, no coffee brewing, no note on the counter. "Mom? Amy?" he called out, voice echoing in the silence. A glance at the clock-9 AM on a Sunday-confirmed they should be home. Where is everyone? Did they go out early? His stomach rumbled, but before he could raid the fridge, a car horn blared outside, sharp and insistent.
Curiosity piqued, John peered through the front window. There, in the driveway, was Heather's SUV, doors open as four women unloaded bags: Heather, Jessica, Amy, and Summer. The spa trip. They must've just gotten back. But something felt off-Heather looked radiant, her brunette hair windswept, wearing that sexy sun dress from the dream, hugging her curves. Jessica, ever the MILF, laughed with Amy as they hauled luggage, her blonde locks catching the light. Summer, oh, Summer. She stood a bit apart, slinging a duffel over her shoulder, but her eyes were locked on Heather, scanning her up and down with an intensity that bordered on hunger. Is she, ogling Mom? Like, checking her out? Nah, can't be. John's mind spun, the dream's echoes making everything feel surreal.
The group spotted him in the window, waving him out. John stepped onto the porch, the warm Texas air hitting him like a wave. Heather was first to approach, arms open wide. "John, sweetie! There you are." She pulled him into a tight hug, her body pressing against his-soft breasts against his chest, the faint scent of jasmine shampoo and something muskier, like sex and sweat. He hugged back awkwardly, hyper-aware of how good she felt, the dream's intimacies flashing unbidden.
Pulling back, Heather's warm brown eyes met his, a playful sparkle in them that wasn't quite, her. "So, what did you get up to while we were gone? Play any good games?" She tilted her head, smiling. "That Elden Ring you mentioned-is it still as interesting as you said? The fire giant boss sounds brutal."
John froze, his brain short-circuiting. What? Mom knows about Elden Ring? The fire giant? I never told her that. He'd rambled about it to friends, sure, but Heather? She barely knew Mario from Minecraft. "Uh, yeah, it's cool. Beat it finally." His voice came out strained, confusion mounting.
Heather winked-actually winked-at him, leaning in closer so her breath tickled his ear. "Good boy. We should chat later about some, RPGs and scenarios we could try out. When we have more privacy." Her hand lingered on his arm, a subtle squeeze that sent a jolt straight to his groin. RPGs? Scenarios? Like roleplay? What the fuck is going on? Is she, flirting? With me? Her son? His mind reeled, the dream's body swap theory suddenly not so dreamlike. No way. Did it actually happen? Was I really in her body? And she, in mine?
He stammered a response-"Sure, Mom, sounds fun?"-but recovered enough to glance at the others. Jessica and Amy were busy with bags, chatting animatedly about the spa's hot tubs. Summer, though, waved from afar, her taller frame stunning in shorts and a crop top that showcased her E-cup bust and toned midriff. "Bye, John! Catch you later?" she called, blowing him a kiss with a wink. Then, when Jessica and Amy turned away, she mouthed "Thank you," her lips forming the words clearly, followed by a scissoring motion with her fingers-index and middle crossing like grinding legs.
John's jaw dropped, heat flooding his face-and his pants. Scissoring? Like, what we did in the dream? Thank you? For what? Confusion crashed over him like a tidal wave. This can't be coincidence. It happened. The swap was real. And Summer, she knows? Or thinks it was Mom? Fuck, I need answers. He waved back weakly, hoping to grill Heather later for insights.
The goodbyes wrapped up quickly-Jessica and Summer heading next door, Amy disappearing inside with her bags. Heather shot John one last knowing smile before following Amy, leaving him on the porch, mind spinning like a glitchy game.
Later that day, the living room hummed with normalcy-or what passed for it. John lounged on the couch, controller in hand but game paused, his thoughts a whirlwind. Amy sprawled nearby, scrolling her phone, while Heather sat in the armchair, flipping through a magazine but stealing glances at him. She's different. More, aware? Flirty? If the swap happened, does she remember? Did she experience my body while I was in hers? The taboo implications made his cock stir uncomfortably-imagining Heather in his teenage form, maybe even jerking off, exploring.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, jolting him. An unknown number, but the message preview showed a link and a heart emoji. He pulled it out, opening the text: "Hey John, it's Summer. Hope you enjoy these pics from the trip ;) Maybe we can meet up later to explore and have some 'fun'? as she was curious about meeting the real John," Attached was a link to a private photo album.
Summer? Texting me? With a winky face? Heart pounding, he clicked the link, the album loading in his browser. First, innocent group shots: the four women in sexy outfits at the spa-Heather in that white bikini, cleavage enhanced; Summer frolicking in the pool, water glistening on her curves; Jessica posing like a model; Amy laughing in her swimsuit. Selfies galore, all playful and hot.
But scrolling deeper, the tone shifted. Sexy solos: Summer in her robe, parted to show a nipple; Heather-Mom-in the nightgown, hand cupping her breast suggestively. Then nudes: Summer sprawled on the bed, legs spread, fingers teasing her pussy; Heather mirroring, her modest breasts bared, fingers dipped into her slit. And the foreplay shots-oh God-the two together: kissing passionately, Summer's larger tits mashed against Heather's; fingers intertwined in each other's pussies; scissoring positions, bodies grinding, faces contorted in pleasure. Explicit, unfiltered-cum-slicked thighs, moaning expressions captured in selfies.
John nearly dropped his phone, his cock instantly hard, straining against his jeans. This is, from last night. The 'dream.' But real. They did this. Summer and, Mom? Or me in Mom's body? And she's sending it to me? The message's words echoed: Curious about the real John. Did she know? Suspect the swap?
Amy glanced over. "You okay, bro? Look like you saw a ghost."
"Yeah, fine," he muttered, shoving the phone into his pants-right over his bulge, the vibration from another buzz making him twitch. Confront Mom? Text Summer back? What the hell is going on? But beneath the confusion, gratitude bloomed. Whoever-whatever-made this happen, thank you. He rejoined the conversation with a dazed smile, intrigued and aroused, the album's secrets burning in his pocket like a promise of more taboo adventures to come.
Epilogue: Revelations and Resolutions
The weeks following the spa trip blurred into a haze of normalcy laced with undercurrents of the extraordinary, like a dream that refused to fully dissipate. Willow Creek simmered under the relentless Texas sun, barbecues and pool parties filling the air with laughter and the scent of grilled burgers, but for John, every glance at Heather or text from Summer carried the weight of unspoken secrets. The photo album burned a hole in his phone's hidden folder-explicit reminders of a night he both cherished and questioned. Was it really me in her body? Or did some cosmic force just, make it happen? And Mom-why does she act like she knows more than she's letting on? He'd caught her staring at him during family dinners, a knowing smirk playing on her lips, her usual modest demeanor laced with a playful edge that mirrored his own geeky humor.
It all came to a head one humid evening, about two weeks after the trip. Amy had gone out with friends for a movie night, leaving the house quiet except for the hum of the AC and the distant chirp of crickets. John found Heather in the living room, lounging on the couch in a simple tank top and shorts that hugged her fit figure, her brunette hair loose and tousled. She was scrolling through her phone, but set it aside when he entered, her warm brown eyes lighting up with that new, intriguing sparkle. "Hey, sweetie. Come sit. We haven't had a real chat since the trip."
John's heart pounded as he sank into the armchair across from her, his mind racing. Now or never. Confront her. Figure out what the hell happened. He cleared his throat, trying to sound casual. "Mom, about that wink the day you got back. And asking about my games. You never cared about that stuff before. What's going on?"
Heather's expression softened, but there was a flush to her cheeks, a mix of guilt and something, excited? She leaned forward, her modest B-cup breasts shifting under the tank top, drawing his eye involuntarily-a taboo flicker he shoved down. "John, honey, I need to confess something. That night before the trip, when you, well, I heard you in your room. Wishing aloud about Summer. It was late, and I was passing by to check on you. I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but, it stirred something in me."
John's face burned, embarrassment mingling with shock. She heard me jerking off? Wishing to get closer to Summer? "Mom, I-"
She held up a hand, her voice steady but laced with vulnerability. "Let me finish. I've always felt responsible for you, especially after your dad. And hearing that wish, it unlocked memories of my own wilder days. College experiments, curiosities I buried. But that night, something shifted. Like a, spark. The next morning, I woke up feeling different. More alive. And during the trip," She trailed off, biting her lip, her eyes darting away as if reliving it. God, what did I do? With Summer-my daughter's best friend. It felt so right, so intense. But was it me? Or something else?
"What about the trip?" John pressed, leaning in, his pulse racing. She thinks she did it. With Summer. But it was me-in her body.
Heather sighed, running a hand through her hair-a gesture so like his own nervous tic that it sent a chill down his spine. "Summer and I, we got close. Intimate. She came to my room that night, and I, I went with it. Roleplayed, explored. It was like I was channeling something younger, hornier. Like parts of you, maybe? Your energy?" She laughed softly, but it was tinged with self-doubt. "I feel responsible. For crossing lines with her. She's Amy's friend, and I'm, well, me. But it happened, and now I can't stop thinking about it. The thrill, the taboo."
John's mind whirled. She wasn't in my body. No swap for her. But she felt it-my influence? My personality bleeding through? Internally, relief and arousal battled: So it was me, fully. But she thinks it was her own will. And now she's, changed? Showing my traits? "Mom, that's, intense. But why the game talk? The winks?"
She smiled, a playful glint in her eye that was unmistakably his own geeky charm. "Since that night, I've felt more, adventurous. Like I've got this new side. Your side? I've even looked up some of those videos you might like. Body swap stuff, gender transformations. Kinky, right?" She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper, laced with a seductive lilt he'd heard in her body. "What if we roleplayed one? Just us. I could be the son, you the mom-or swap it. Explore those scenarios. It'd be our secret. Fun, taboo, intimate."
John's cock stirred at the suggestion, the taboo heat of it overwhelming. Mom wants to roleplay a body swap? With me? Fuck, that's my kink. But she's my step-mom, He swallowed hard, nodding slowly. "I, yeah. Maybe. We can talk about it."
Heather's eyes sparkled, reaching out to squeeze his hand. "Good. I love you, John. And I'm sorry if I overstepped with Summer. But it felt, right." She pulled back, the moment heavy with unspoken possibilities, leaving John dazed as she headed upstairs. She's got my personality now. Wants to play out my fantasies. This summer's just getting weirder-and hotter.
As the days stretched into the final week of summer break, the neighborhood buzzed with back-to-school prep, but John's focus narrowed to Summer. Texts had flown between them-flirty at first, then explicit: shared memories of the album pics, teasing promises of "meeting the real John." She knows something. That 'thank you' and scissor motion-it's like she suspects I was involved. Amy headed back to college early for orientation, and Heather busied herself with work, leaving John with pockets of freedom. The climax came on a sultry Friday evening, a text from Summer lighting up his phone: "Meet me at the old park trailhead. 8 PM. Alone. Got something to show you, and do to you. ;)"
The park was a secluded spot on the edge of town-winding trails through woods, a hidden clearing by a creek where teens snuck off for privacy. John arrived as the sun dipped low, fireflies flickering in the dusk, his nerves electric. Summer waited on a picnic blanket, looking ethereal in a short sundress that hugged her taller frame, her blonde waves glowing in the fading light, E-cup breasts straining the fabric. "John," she purred, standing to hug him-bodies pressing close, her curves against his lean form. "Finally. The real you."
They sat, the air thick with tension, a bottle of wine between them. "Summer, those pics. The trip. What happened with, Mom?" He hesitated, probing.
She smiled mysteriously, sipping wine. "Oh, I know, John. You were responsible. Somehow. That night with Heather-it was you in there, wasn't it? Your energy, your kinks spilling out. The way she switched touches, knew my favorite scenes, it was too perfect. Too you." She leaned in, her hand on his thigh. "Don't ask how I know. A girl's got her secrets. But thank you. It opened my eyes. Made me want the original."
John's breath hitched, arousal surging. She knows. Doesn't care how. Wants me. "Summer, I-"
"Shh." She kissed him, soft at first, then hungry-tongues dancing, her larger body pressing him back onto the blanket. Hands roamed: hers under his shirt, nails raking his chest; his cupping her ass, squeezing the firm cheeks. "I've wanted this since that hug when I got home. But now, after tasting a piece of you, I need the full thing."
She pushed him flat, unzipping his jeans with deft fingers, freeing his hardening cock-thick and veined, already leaking pre-cum. "Look at you. Real boy parts." She licked her lips, blue eyes locked on his as she lowered her head. Her mouth enveloped him-warm, wet, tongue swirling the head, sucking gently at first, then deeper. John groaned, hands in her blonde hair, as she bobbed-taking him halfway, then all, throat relaxing around him. Fuck, her mouth, so skilled. Bigger tits bouncing as she sucks. She hummed, vibrations sending shocks through him, one hand stroking the base while the other fondled his balls.
"Summer, God, yes," he moaned, hips bucking lightly. She popped off briefly, grinning. "Taste different. Saltier. Love it." Back down, faster now-sloppy, saliva dripping, her free hand slipping under her dress to rub her pussy. The sight pushed him close, but she sensed it, pulling off with a wet pop. "Not yet. Want you inside me first."
She straddled him, dress hiked up-no panties, her wet pussy hovering over his cock. "Condom?" he gasped.
"On the pill. Clean. You?" He nodded, and she sank down-tight, hot walls gripping him inch by inch, her E-cups bouncing as she rode. "Fuck, John, feels so good. Different from scissoring, but, perfect." She ground her hips, clit rubbing against his base, moans filling the clearing. John thrust up, hands on her breasts-squeezing, pinching nipples-then flipped her onto her back, pounding deeper. Positions shifted: missionary, her legs over his shoulders for depth; doggy, ass jiggling as he slapped it lightly; cowgirl again, her taller body dominating.
Orgasms built-hers first, pussy clenching around him, crying out as she came. He followed, pulling out to cum on her stomach-hot ropes painting her skin. Breathless, they collapsed, laughing softly. "The real John's even better," she whispered, kissing him. "More this summer? And beyond?"
"Absolutely," he replied, the gender-bending whirlwind of the break culminating in this raw, real connection. As stars emerged overhead, John thanked whatever force had twisted his wish into this taboo, erotic reality-closer to Summer than ever, inside and out.
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Lucas and Emily are best friends who stumble upon a strange remote at a garage sale. Lucas buys it on a whim, joking that it looks cool—and that he needs a new TV remote anyway. Curious, the two decide to test it out, and to Lucas’s relief, it actually works.
Later that night, they’re catching up on an episode of One Piece when Lucas feels a sudden impulse to press the remote’s glowing red button. Within seconds, everything blurs, and both of them are violently sucked into the TV.
When they regain consciousness, Lucas’s living room is gone. Instead, they find themselves at a bustling port, standing on a boat—and inhabiting different, yet strangely familiar, bodies. It doesn’t take long for the truth to sink in: Lucas has somehow become Nami, while Emily has become Luffy. Even stranger, the mysterious remote is tucked safely into Lucas’s pocket.
Panicked, they try to use the remote to escape, only to discover that it’s on some kind of cooldown. With no way back and no idea how long the effect will last, Emily and Lucas are forced to remain trapped in the One Piece world—living as its characters for who knows how long.
The sun beat down on the cracked asphalt of the suburban cul-de-sac, turning the Saturday morning garage sale into a shimmering mirage of discarded memories. Emily nudged Lucas with her elbow, gesturing toward a folding table buried under a tangle of old cables and yellowed electronics manuals. “See anything cool, tech wizard?”
Lucas, ever the tinkerer, was already sifting through the box. “Mostly junk. VCR manuals from 1998. A busted graphing calculator.” His hand paused, fingers closing around something sleek and black. “Whoa. Okay, this is weird.”
He pulled it out. It was a standard universal remote, but it felt significant. It was heavier than it should be, made of a cold, brushed metal, and had a simple layout: Power, Volume Up/Down, a directional pad, a button with a simple TV icon, and one solitary, ominous red button set slightly apart. A faint, almost imperceptible LED glowed near the top.
“That looks… intense,” Emily said, peering over his shoulder. “Think it works?”
“Only one way to find out,” Lucas grinned. He aimed it at a dusty old tube TV sitting on the grass with a ‘$5’ sticker on it. He pressed the power button. With a soft click and a hum, the TV flickered to life, displaying static snow. Lucas laughed, a sound of pure relief. “Holy crap, it does work. And it’s not even paired to it. Score. I do need a new remote anyway.”
“Maybe it really is universal,” Emily mused.
An elderly woman with soft silver hair pulled into a bun shuffled over, her smile warm but tinged with a deep, lingering sadness. “Oh, you found Albert’s little project,” she said, her voice like rustling paper. “My husband. He was an electrical engineer, retired. In his last few months… he became quite obsessed with fiddling with that thing. In his spare time, right up until the end.”
Lucas turned the remote over in his hands. “It’s really well-made. What was he trying to do?”
The woman’s gaze grew distant. “On his deathbed, he was delirious with the pain medication. He kept holding that remote, babbling about harmonics and dimensional frequencies. He said he’d tuned it not to channels, but to worlds. Said it was a portal device.” She gave a soft, sad laugh. “He told me I should use it when my time comes. He said the transportation takes ‘life energy’ to sustain, and that I’d have enough left for one last trip. Can you imagine? The fancies of a dying mind.”
Emily and Lucas exchanged a look, a mix of skepticism and intrigue.
“I didn’t believe him, of course,” the woman continued, wiping a speck of dust from a picture frame of a smiling couple. “I thought it was just the sickness talking. After he passed… all these gadgets, all these reminders of those final, confusing days… I couldn’t bear to look at them. So, out they came. A fresh start.” She gestured to the table. “If you want it, dear, it’s five dollars. At least it’ll be a conversation piece.”
Lucas fished a crumpled bill from his pocket. “Sold.”
Back at Lucas’s apartment that evening, the remote sat on the coffee table between them like a shrine relic while they argued over what to watch. “It’s just a remote, Em,” Lucas said, though he kept glancing at it. “A fancy one with a tragic, weird backstory.”
“A tragic weird backstory about portals,” Emily corrected, grabbing a handful of popcorn. “Your new TV remote is an interdimensional philosopher.”
“Shut up and pick something. We’re behind on One Piece.”
They settled in, the epic saga of the Straw Hat Pirates filling the screen. Luffy was mid-transformation into Gear Fifth, his rubbery body a whirling cyclone of joy and power, his infectious laughter echoing through the speakers. Nami was shouting navigational commands from the helm of the Thousand Sunny, her orange hair whipping in a stylized gale. As the episode reached its crescendo, Lucas’s hand, almost of its own volition, drifted from his lap. His fingers found the cold metal of the remote. The solitary red button was glowing now, a deep, pulsing crimson it hadn’t been before.
“Dude, what are you doing?” Emily asked, mid-chew.
“I don’t know,” Lucas said, his voice oddly hollow. A compulsion, thick and magnetic, settled in his bones. His thumb pressed down on the red button.
The world dissolved.
It wasn’t a fade—it was a violent, screaming rip. The sound of the TV became a deafening roar, and the screen didn’t just display the Thousand Sunny; it opened. A vortex of swirling color and cartoon physics yawned before them. Emily’s popcorn bowl flew from her hands as an impossible suction grabbed them both, yanking them off the couch. Lucas felt a scream tear from his throat, but no sound emerged—the air was being stolen from his lungs. He saw Emily, eyes wide with terror, her form elongating and distorting as she was pulled toward the maelstrom of light a split-second before he was. Then, everything was pain, pressure, and a sensation of being crumpled like a piece of paper and thrown across an infinite distance.
Consciousness returned in a nauseating lurch. Lucas gasped, his head throbbing. The soft, familiar fabric of his couch was gone. Beneath him was coarse, sun-warmed wood. The air smelled of salt, tar, and exotic spices. His ears were filled with a cacophony he’d only ever heard through headphones: the shouts of dockworkers, the cries of gulls, the creak of rigging and splash of waves against a hull.
He tried to sit up and immediately flailed, his center of gravity all wrong. His body felt… different. Lighter, yet strangely top-heavy. He looked down.
And saw orange.
A cascade of bright orange hair fell over his shoulders. His perspective was lower to the deck. His hands, which came up to clutch his head, were smaller, with slender fingers tipped with short, polished nails. And the shirt he was wearing… it was a low-cut, blue and white striped bikini top, barely containing a soft, generous swell of cleavage that most definitely had not been there a minute ago. A familiar, intricate tattoo—Nami’s iconic tattoo—adorning the shoulder his new hair didn’t cover.
A wave of dizzying horror washed over him. He was on the deck of the Thousand Sunny. And he was in Nami’s body.
“Whoa.” The voice that came from beside him was deeper, richer, and crackled with a boundless energy that was utterly foreign. “This is… AWESOME!”
Lucas turned his head. Sitting up, rubbing a rubbery neck with a stretchy hand, was Monkey D. Luffy. But the grin splitting that familiar face was pure, unadulterated Emily. She pounded a fist into her—his?—other palm, the smack echoing with a thwack.
“Lucas! Look! I’m made of rubber!” Emily exclaimed, and to prove it, she reeled back and punched herself in the cheek. Her face distorted, squishing inward before snapping back into place with a boing. She burst out laughing, the sound exactly like the Captain’s. “This is the coolest thing that has ever happened to anyone, ever!”
“Emily, shut up!” Lucas hissed, his voice emerging as Nami’s higher, sharper tone. Panic, cold and sharp, clawed at his throat. He scrambled to his feet, his new body moving with an unfamiliar, agile grace that felt like a betrayal. He patted himself down, and his hand—her hand—slid into the pocket of Nami’s short denim shorts. His fingers closed around cold, hard metal.
He pulled out the universal remote. The LED was dark. Desperately, he pointed it back in the vague direction from which they’d come, at the bright blue sky over the bustling port of wherever the hell they were, and mashed the power button. Nothing. He mashed the red button again and again. It was inert, just a dead piece of tech.
“It’s not working,” he whispered, the dread settling into his new bones. “It’s not working!”
Emily stopped bouncing and peered at the remote. “Maybe it needs to recharge? Like a cooldown period?”
“A cooldown? You don’t put a cooldown on a fucking universe-hopping remote!” Lucas snapped, Nami’s usual irritation coloring his panic perfectly.
“I dunno, seems reasonable. That trip probably used a lot of power,” Emily said, shrugging her massive rubbery shoulders. She looked around, her straw hat tipping back. “So. We’re in One Piece. I’m Luffy. You’re Nami.” A huge, gleaming grin spread across her face again. “This is officially a top-tier adventure. We should find Zoro! Or Sanji! Oh my god, Lucas, Sanji is going to freak out when he sees you!”
The reality of their situation crashed down on Lucas with the weight of the Grand Line. He was trapped. Trapped in the body of the Straw Hats’ navigator, in a world of pirates and Marines and sea monsters, with his best friend gleefully incarnated as a rubber maniac in his head. He clutched the useless remote, the only tether to their old life, as the bright, dangerous world of One Piece bustled around them. The cooldown, if that’s what it was, could be minutes. It could be days.
Or it could be forever. And they had no choice but to start living it.
Later that night, they’re catching up on an episode of One Piece when Lucas feels a sudden impulse to press the remote’s glowing red button. Within seconds, everything blurs, and both of them are violently sucked into the TV.
When they regain consciousness, Lucas’s living room is gone. Instead, they find themselves at a bustling port, standing on a boat—and inhabiting different, yet strangely familiar, bodies. It doesn’t take long for the truth to sink in: Lucas has somehow become Nami, while Emily has become Luffy. Even stranger, the mysterious remote is tucked safely into Lucas’s pocket.
Panicked, they try to use the remote to escape, only to discover that it’s on some kind of cooldown. With no way back and no idea how long the effect will last, Emily and Lucas are forced to remain trapped in the One Piece world—living as its characters for who knows how long.
The sun beat down on the cracked asphalt of the suburban cul-de-sac, turning the Saturday morning garage sale into a shimmering mirage of discarded memories. Emily nudged Lucas with her elbow, gesturing toward a folding table buried under a tangle of old cables and yellowed electronics manuals. “See anything cool, tech wizard?”
Lucas, ever the tinkerer, was already sifting through the box. “Mostly junk. VCR manuals from 1998. A busted graphing calculator.” His hand paused, fingers closing around something sleek and black. “Whoa. Okay, this is weird.”
He pulled it out. It was a standard universal remote, but it felt significant. It was heavier than it should be, made of a cold, brushed metal, and had a simple layout: Power, Volume Up/Down, a directional pad, a button with a simple TV icon, and one solitary, ominous red button set slightly apart. A faint, almost imperceptible LED glowed near the top.
“That looks… intense,” Emily said, peering over his shoulder. “Think it works?”
“Only one way to find out,” Lucas grinned. He aimed it at a dusty old tube TV sitting on the grass with a ‘$5’ sticker on it. He pressed the power button. With a soft click and a hum, the TV flickered to life, displaying static snow. Lucas laughed, a sound of pure relief. “Holy crap, it does work. And it’s not even paired to it. Score. I do need a new remote anyway.”
“Maybe it really is universal,” Emily mused.
An elderly woman with soft silver hair pulled into a bun shuffled over, her smile warm but tinged with a deep, lingering sadness. “Oh, you found Albert’s little project,” she said, her voice like rustling paper. “My husband. He was an electrical engineer, retired. In his last few months… he became quite obsessed with fiddling with that thing. In his spare time, right up until the end.”
Lucas turned the remote over in his hands. “It’s really well-made. What was he trying to do?”
The woman’s gaze grew distant. “On his deathbed, he was delirious with the pain medication. He kept holding that remote, babbling about harmonics and dimensional frequencies. He said he’d tuned it not to channels, but to worlds. Said it was a portal device.” She gave a soft, sad laugh. “He told me I should use it when my time comes. He said the transportation takes ‘life energy’ to sustain, and that I’d have enough left for one last trip. Can you imagine? The fancies of a dying mind.”
Emily and Lucas exchanged a look, a mix of skepticism and intrigue.
“I didn’t believe him, of course,” the woman continued, wiping a speck of dust from a picture frame of a smiling couple. “I thought it was just the sickness talking. After he passed… all these gadgets, all these reminders of those final, confusing days… I couldn’t bear to look at them. So, out they came. A fresh start.” She gestured to the table. “If you want it, dear, it’s five dollars. At least it’ll be a conversation piece.”
Lucas fished a crumpled bill from his pocket. “Sold.”
Back at Lucas’s apartment that evening, the remote sat on the coffee table between them like a shrine relic while they argued over what to watch. “It’s just a remote, Em,” Lucas said, though he kept glancing at it. “A fancy one with a tragic, weird backstory.”
“A tragic weird backstory about portals,” Emily corrected, grabbing a handful of popcorn. “Your new TV remote is an interdimensional philosopher.”
“Shut up and pick something. We’re behind on One Piece.”
They settled in, the epic saga of the Straw Hat Pirates filling the screen. Luffy was mid-transformation into Gear Fifth, his rubbery body a whirling cyclone of joy and power, his infectious laughter echoing through the speakers. Nami was shouting navigational commands from the helm of the Thousand Sunny, her orange hair whipping in a stylized gale. As the episode reached its crescendo, Lucas’s hand, almost of its own volition, drifted from his lap. His fingers found the cold metal of the remote. The solitary red button was glowing now, a deep, pulsing crimson it hadn’t been before.
“Dude, what are you doing?” Emily asked, mid-chew.
“I don’t know,” Lucas said, his voice oddly hollow. A compulsion, thick and magnetic, settled in his bones. His thumb pressed down on the red button.
The world dissolved.
It wasn’t a fade—it was a violent, screaming rip. The sound of the TV became a deafening roar, and the screen didn’t just display the Thousand Sunny; it opened. A vortex of swirling color and cartoon physics yawned before them. Emily’s popcorn bowl flew from her hands as an impossible suction grabbed them both, yanking them off the couch. Lucas felt a scream tear from his throat, but no sound emerged—the air was being stolen from his lungs. He saw Emily, eyes wide with terror, her form elongating and distorting as she was pulled toward the maelstrom of light a split-second before he was. Then, everything was pain, pressure, and a sensation of being crumpled like a piece of paper and thrown across an infinite distance.
Consciousness returned in a nauseating lurch. Lucas gasped, his head throbbing. The soft, familiar fabric of his couch was gone. Beneath him was coarse, sun-warmed wood. The air smelled of salt, tar, and exotic spices. His ears were filled with a cacophony he’d only ever heard through headphones: the shouts of dockworkers, the cries of gulls, the creak of rigging and splash of waves against a hull.
He tried to sit up and immediately flailed, his center of gravity all wrong. His body felt… different. Lighter, yet strangely top-heavy. He looked down.
And saw orange.
A cascade of bright orange hair fell over his shoulders. His perspective was lower to the deck. His hands, which came up to clutch his head, were smaller, with slender fingers tipped with short, polished nails. And the shirt he was wearing… it was a low-cut, blue and white striped bikini top, barely containing a soft, generous swell of cleavage that most definitely had not been there a minute ago. A familiar, intricate tattoo—Nami’s iconic tattoo—adorning the shoulder his new hair didn’t cover.
A wave of dizzying horror washed over him. He was on the deck of the Thousand Sunny. And he was in Nami’s body.
“Whoa.” The voice that came from beside him was deeper, richer, and crackled with a boundless energy that was utterly foreign. “This is… AWESOME!”
Lucas turned his head. Sitting up, rubbing a rubbery neck with a stretchy hand, was Monkey D. Luffy. But the grin splitting that familiar face was pure, unadulterated Emily. She pounded a fist into her—his?—other palm, the smack echoing with a thwack.
“Lucas! Look! I’m made of rubber!” Emily exclaimed, and to prove it, she reeled back and punched herself in the cheek. Her face distorted, squishing inward before snapping back into place with a boing. She burst out laughing, the sound exactly like the Captain’s. “This is the coolest thing that has ever happened to anyone, ever!”
“Emily, shut up!” Lucas hissed, his voice emerging as Nami’s higher, sharper tone. Panic, cold and sharp, clawed at his throat. He scrambled to his feet, his new body moving with an unfamiliar, agile grace that felt like a betrayal. He patted himself down, and his hand—her hand—slid into the pocket of Nami’s short denim shorts. His fingers closed around cold, hard metal.
He pulled out the universal remote. The LED was dark. Desperately, he pointed it back in the vague direction from which they’d come, at the bright blue sky over the bustling port of wherever the hell they were, and mashed the power button. Nothing. He mashed the red button again and again. It was inert, just a dead piece of tech.
“It’s not working,” he whispered, the dread settling into his new bones. “It’s not working!”
Emily stopped bouncing and peered at the remote. “Maybe it needs to recharge? Like a cooldown period?”
“A cooldown? You don’t put a cooldown on a fucking universe-hopping remote!” Lucas snapped, Nami’s usual irritation coloring his panic perfectly.
“I dunno, seems reasonable. That trip probably used a lot of power,” Emily said, shrugging her massive rubbery shoulders. She looked around, her straw hat tipping back. “So. We’re in One Piece. I’m Luffy. You’re Nami.” A huge, gleaming grin spread across her face again. “This is officially a top-tier adventure. We should find Zoro! Or Sanji! Oh my god, Lucas, Sanji is going to freak out when he sees you!”
The reality of their situation crashed down on Lucas with the weight of the Grand Line. He was trapped. Trapped in the body of the Straw Hats’ navigator, in a world of pirates and Marines and sea monsters, with his best friend gleefully incarnated as a rubber maniac in his head. He clutched the useless remote, the only tether to their old life, as the bright, dangerous world of One Piece bustled around them. The cooldown, if that’s what it was, could be minutes. It could be days.
Or it could be forever. And they had no choice but to start living it.
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A curse. Two souls. One fatal touch. Shortly before his wedding, Ethan learns of the legend of a cursed brooch – and becomes its next victim. He swaps bodies with Margarete, his wife's mother's friend, and realises that the gift of slipping into other people's skin is not a coincidence, but a test. The ceremony is only the beginning of an adventure that will lead Ethan through the lives and secrets of strangers. His goal: to regain his own identity before he loses himself in the lives of others.
I woke up to the smell of lavender and old books, which was the first wrong thing.
My alarm should have been the sharp ping of my phonesome upbeat synth track I’d set to “motivational asshole mode.” Instead there was silence, thick hotel-room silence, broken only by the faint ticking of a wall clock I didn’t remember owning. My body felt… heavy. Not gym-sore heavy. Not even post-night-out heavy. It felt like someone had poured concrete into my joints and then politely asked them to creak.
I opened my eyes.
The ceiling was wrong. Too high, too ornate, crown molding that belonged in a period drama. The bed was wrong toosoft in that way old mattresses are soft, like they’ve given up fighting gravity decades ago. I tried to sit up and my back immediately lodged a formal complaint. A dull ache bloomed behind my knees. My handswhen I lifted them to rub my facewere not mine.
They were smaller. Knotted at the knuckles. Liver spots scattered like spilled coffee across the backs. Thin gold wedding band on the left ring finger, worn smooth from years. Nails short, unpainted, practical.
I stared at them for what felt like ten full seconds.
Then I screamed.
It came out wrong. Higher, raspier, an older woman’s startled yelp instead of my usual baritone bark. I clapped a hand over my mouthmy new, unfamiliar mouthand tasted lipstick. Not gloss. Actual matte lipstick, the kind that feels like wax and smells faintly of roses.
I scrambled out of bed (or tried to; the knees locked halfway and I nearly face-planted into a floral rug). There was a full-length mirror on the wardrobe door. I didn’t want to look. I looked anyway.
Margaret stared back at me.
Not some random old lady. Margaret. The Margaret. Sophie’s family friend, the retired principal who once told mein front of twenty people at the engagement partythat “youth is wasted on the young and charm is wasted on the cocky.” Gray hair pulled into a neat chignon. Wire-rimmed glasses hanging from a chain around myherneck. A silk dressing gown the color of weak tea. And behind the glasses, my own wide, panicked eyes.
I whispered, “No. No no no no.”
The voice was hers. Dry, precise, faintly British even though she was born in Ohio. I hated how authoritative it sounded even when I was the one panicking.
Phone. I needed my phone.
I lurched across the roomevery step a negotiation with joints that had apparently unionized against meand found a small clutch purse on the dresser. Inside: reading glasses, tissues, a tin of mints, a hotel keycard, andthank Godmy phone. Except it wasn’t my phone. It was hers. An iPhone 8, cracked screen protector, wallpaper of a black-and-white photo of two kids who were probably her grandchildren.
I tried Face ID anyway. It didn’t work. Obviously.
Passcode. I typed my birthday.
Nothing.
Her birthday? I had no idea.
I typed 01011958 on a guess (she’d once said she was “born the year they launched Sputnik, which explains my lifelong suspicion of bright ideas”). The phone unlocked.
First thing I did: opened the camera and switched to selfie mode.
Yeah. Still Margaret.
Second thing: checked the time. 7:42 a.m. Wedding was at 4:00 p.m. Rehearsal brunch at 10:00. Sophie was probably already in the bridal suite getting her hair done, surrounded by bridesmaids and mimosas and that calming playlist she loved.
I could text her. I could call her. I could say, “Babe, something insane happened, I’m in Margaret’s body, please don’t freak out.”
And then what?
She’d think I was drunk. Or high. Or having a psychotic break forty-eight hours before our wedding. She’d call my brother. She’d call her mom. Within twenty minutes the entire wedding party would know the groom was claiming to be trapped in a sixty-seven-year-old woman’s body. The photos would leak. TwitterXwould have a field day. “Tech bro groom swaps souls with grandma, more at 11.”
No. No way.
I wasn’t telling anyone. Not Sophie. Not James. Not even Clara, who’d probably believe me and then try to livestream it.
I had to fix this quietly. Find the broochMargaret’s stupid cursed brooch that I’d laughed at last night when she’d pinned it to her lapel and muttered something about “family nonsense.” I’d touched it. I remembered touching it when I helped her with her coat. That had to be it.
I rummaged through the purse again. No brooch. Checked the nightstand, the dresser drawers, under the bed like an idiot. Nothing.
The ceremony was in eight hours. I had to get through the morning looking like Margaret, sounding like Margaret, acting like Margaret, while Margaretsomewhere in my bodywas probably waking up in the groom’s suite wondering why she suddenly had abs and could see without glasses.
I caught my reflection again. Margaret’s stern mouth was currently twisted into something like horror.
“Okay,” I said aloud in her voice. “You built a thirty-million-dollar valuation from a dorm room. You can handle one wedding in heels.”
I opened the wardrobe.
Dresses. Cardigans. Low block heels that looked like they’d been designed by someone who hated fun.
I picked the least offensive outfita navy dress with sensible sleevesand started the longest morning of my life.
First problem: pantyhose.
Second problem: I had no idea how to walk in any of these shoes without looking like a newborn giraffe.
Third problem: in about two hours I had to sit at a table with Sophie’s entire family, smile politely, and pretend I was a retired school principal who approved of their daughter marrying me.
I took a deep breath that hurt my ribs in a brand-new way.
Then I squared Margaret’s narrow shoulders, put on her glasses, and opened the hotel-room door.
Showtime.
I stepped into the hallway, Margaret's sensible flats squeaking faintly on the carpet like they were judging me with every step. The hotel was buzzing alreadymaids pushing carts, distant laughter from the lobby, the faint clink of breakfast trays. My heartor rather, her heartwas pounding in a way that felt foreign, slower but insistent, like an old engine revving up after years in storage.
First stop: the groom's suite. My suite. Where Margaret was probably freaking out in my body right now. I needed to confront her, figure out how to reverse this, and swear her to secrecy. But walking down that hall felt like a marathon. These knees weren't built for speed; every stride sent a twinge up my thighs, and I had to fight the urge to hunch forward like she always did.
A door opened ahead, and out stepped one of the groomsmenwait, no, it was the hotel concierge, a young guy in a crisp uniform. He smiled politely. "Good morning, ma'am. Can I help you with anything?"
Ma'am. God, that stung. I forced Margaret's lips into what I hoped was her signature no-nonsense smile. "No, thank you. Just heading tofamily matters."
He nodded and moved on, but not before his eyes flicked downsubtly, professionallyto my chest. Or her chest. I felt a flush creep up my neck. These breasts were substantial, heavy in a way I'd never experienced, shifting slightly under the dress with each step. It was distracting, almost sensual, the fabric brushing against skin that felt hypersensitive. I shook it off. Focus, Ethan.
By the time I reached my suite door, I was sweating. Knocked twice, sharp and principal-like. No answer. I tried the handlelocked. Shit. My keycard was probably in my real pants pocket, wherever that body was now.
"Open up," I hissed in her voice, glancing around to make sure no one was watching. "It's me. Ethan."
The door cracked open after a beat, and there I wasmy own face staring back at me, wide-eyed and pale. Except it wasn't me. It was Margaret in my skin, her expression a mix of terror and something else. Exhilaration? She yanked me inside and slammed the door.
"What in God's name" she started in my voice, deep and resonant, but with her clipped cadence. It was weird hearing my baritone sound so proper.
"Shh!" I cut her off, pushing past into the room. My room looked the same: tux hanging on the closet door, my phone charging on the nightstand, a half-empty protein shake from last night. But seeing it from this height, this angle, made everything feel off-kilter.
Margaretin my bodypaced, running my hands through my hair in a way that'd mess up the style I'd planned. "This is the brooch. I told you it was cursed! My great-aunt swore it swapped her with a cousin on her wedding day in '32. We need to find it and"
"I know," I snapped, her voice cracking a bit. "I touched it last night. But we can't tell anyone. Not Sophie, not anyone. We'll fix this before the ceremony."
She stopped pacing, turning to face me. My own eyes raked over her bodymy body now occupied by her. It was surreal, like looking in a funhouse mirror. And then something shifted. She adjusted my stance, squaring my shoulders, and I noticed how my athletic build filled out the robe she must've thrown on. Broad chest, the faint outline of abs under the fabric. I'd always been proud of that body, but seeing it from the outside, controlled by someone else it stirred something unexpected. A heat low in my bellyher bellythat I wasn't prepared for.
"Why are you staring?" she demanded, but there was a flush on my cheeks now. Her in there.
"I nothing." I averted my eyes, but they landed on the mirror across the room. There we were: an older woman and a young man, standing too close in a hotel room. The contrast was electric. Her mind in my prime physique, my energy trapped in her seasoned form. I felt a forbidden curiosity bubble up. What did this body feel like, really? Not just the achesthe pleasures?
She seemed to sense it too. Stepped closer, towering over me now in a way that made my pulse quicken. "Ethan, this is serious. But good Lord, your body. It's like being plugged into a live wire. Everything's so responsive." Her voicemy voicedropped lower, and I saw her glance down at herself, adjusting the robe where it tented slightly. Was that arousal? In my body?
I swallowed hard, Margaret's throat dry. "Yeah, well, yours isn't exactly a slouch. It's sensitive. In ways I didn't expect." My hand, almost without thinking, brushed against the side of her hipmy hip now. The skin there was softer, warmer than I'd imagined. A shiver ran through me, electric, pooling between my legs in a unfamiliar, building ache. Women's bodies, I realized with a jolt, didn't ramp up the same way it was slower, deeper, like a wave gathering.
She inhaled sharply at the touch, my eyes darkening. "We shouldn't This is madness." But she didn't pull away. Instead, her handmy strong, callused hand from rock climbingreached out and cupped my cheek, thumb tracing Margaret's jawline. The contact was intimate, charged. I leaned into it, feeling the roughness against smooth skin, and suddenly we were kissing.
It was clumsy at firstme in her body, her in mine, lips meeting in a rush of confusion and heat. My mouth was softer, more yielding; hers firmer, insistent. I tasted my own aftershave on her tongue, mixed with her surprise. Hands roamed: mine exploring the hard planes of my chest under the robe, hers sliding down to grip Margaret's waist, pulling me closer. The friction of fabric against skin sent sparks through me, her nipplesmy nipples nowtightening under the dress.
We broke apart, breathing hard. "This is wrong," I gasped in her voice, but my body betrayed me, thighs pressing together instinctively, seeking more pressure.
"Utterly," she agreed in mine, but her grin was wicked, eyes gleaming with that secret delight she'd mentioned. "But educational. Your stamina, Ethanit's intoxicating." She flexed my arms, and I felt a rush watching the muscles shift.
We didn't go furthernot then. Time was ticking, and the brunch loomed. But the air hummed with possibility, a secret shared in swapped flesh. I straightened her dressmy dressand she helped me fix the chignon, fingers lingering a second too long on my neck.
"Find the brooch," I said firmly, stepping back. "It's probably in your things. I'll play you at brunch; you play me. Act normal."
She nodded, but as I turned to leave, her voicemy voicecalled softly, "Ethan? This body of yours it wants things. Be careful."
I shivered again, that erotic undercurrent lingering as I slipped back into the hall. The wedding was hours away, and now, on top of everything, I had to navigate Margaret's form through a sea of family and friends, all while ignoring the newfound desires humming under her skin.
I slipped out of the groom’s suite with my pulse still hammering in Margaret’s narrower chest, the memory of that kiss burning behind my eyes like a live wire. Her lipsmy lips nowstill tingled from the press of my own mouth, from the rough scrape of stubble that wasn’t there anymore. I could taste the faint salt of my skin on her tongue, could still feel the hard ridge of my erection pressing against her thigh through the robe when we’d broken apart.
Focus, Ethan. Brunch. Family. Act like a retired principal who thinks you’re marrying beneath her.
The elevator ride down was torture. Every sway of the car made Margaret’s breasts shift under the navy dress, the silk lining sliding against nipples that had hardened and stayed that way since the kiss. I crossed my arms under them instinctivelysupport, modesty, whateverand immediately regretted it. The pressure only sharpened the ache, sent a slow, liquid heat curling low in her belly. I’d spent years chasing that kind of build-up in my own body: quick, focused, explosive. This was different. Deeper. Patient. Insistent. Like her body knew exactly how long it could draw the tension out before it snapped.
When the doors opened on the second floor, the private dining room was already alive with chatter and clinking silverware. Sophie’s family, my groomsmen, a few cousins milling around the buffet. And therestanding near the mimosa station in my charcoal suit, looking unfairly goodwas me. Margaret-in-my-body, hair still mussed from my fingers, tie slightly crooked in a way I never allowed. She caught my eye across the room and gave the tiniest nod, the corner of my mouth quirking in that knowing half-smile I usually saved for closing deals.
I forced Margaret’s posture straight, smoothed the dress over hips that felt too wide and too soft, and walked in.
“Margaret, darling!” EleanorSophie’s motherswooped in first, air-kissing both cheeks. “You look positively radiant this morning. Did you do something different with your makeup?”
I blinked behind the wire-rimmed glasses. “Just… slept well,” I managed in her crisp tone. “The hotel pillows are divine.”
Eleanor laughed and linked her arm through mine, steering me toward the table. Every step rubbed the lace of Margaret’s underwear against sensitive skin I’d never paid attention to before. The seam pressed right where the heat was gathering, a constant, maddening friction. I bit the inside of her cheek to keep from gasping.
Sophie was already seated, radiant in a soft white sundress, hair half-up in loose waves. When she saw “Margaret,” her face lit up.
“Aunt Margaret!” She stood and hugged mecarefully, the way you hug someone fragile. Her perfume wrapped around me, familiar and devastating. “I’m so glad you’re here early. Ethan’s been weirdly quiet this morning. Nerves, I think.”
I hugged her back, Margaret’s arms thinner than I was used to, but the embrace felt achingly real. Sophie’s breasts pressed softly against mine through the thin fabric; I could feel the warmth of her skin, the slight catch of her breath. My bodyher bodyreacted instantly: a fresh rush of wetness between my thighs, thighs that clenched without permission. I pulled back too quickly.
“He’ll be fine,” I said, patting her arm with what I hoped was maternal reassurance. “Men get peculiar before weddings. It passes.”
Sophie laughed, but her eyes searched my faceMargaret’s facea second longer than usual. “You sound so sure.”
Because I am sure, I wanted to say. Because I’m the one who’s going to marry you in eight hours and I’m currently fighting the urge to drag you into the nearest coat closet just to feel your hands on this body that suddenly wants everything.
Instead I smiled Margaret’s tight, polite smile and let Eleanor guide me to a chair.
Across the table, Margaret-in-my-body was watching. Our eyes locked again. She lifted my mimosa glass in a tiny toast, lips curving. Thendeliberatelyshe ran my tongue along the rim of the flute, slow and suggestive, before taking a sip. My stomach flipped. Her in my skin, playing with sensations I knew too well: the cold fizz on the tongue, the subtle stretch of jaw muscles, the way a single swallow could send warmth straight down.
I shifted in the seat. The chair was hard; the pressure against my clitGod, even thinking the word in her voice felt obscenewas almost too much. I pressed my thighs together under the tablecloth and tried to focus on the conversation.
Clara bounded over then, all eleven-year-old energy, clutching her tablet. “Aunt Margaret! Look, I made a TikTok edit of Uncle Ethan’s proposal video with cat filters!”
She shoved the screen in my face. There I wasmy real bodydown on one knee in the park last spring, edited so cartoon ears twitched on my head and whiskers sprouted whenever I smiled at Sophie.
“Very… creative,” I said, voice dry. Clara beamed.
Margaretacross the tableleaned forward. “Clara, sweetheart,” she said in my deeper register, “why don’t you show me how to make one of those later? I could use some modernizing.”
Clara’s eyes went wide. “You? On TikTok?”
“Desperate times,” Margaret replied, and shot me a look that said: We’re going to talk. Soon.
The brunch dragged. Every time Sophie laughed, every time her fingers brushed mine passing the fruit platter, every accidental graze of her knee against Margaret’s under the table sent another pulse of arousal through me. By the time people started drifting toward the elevators for hair and makeup appointments, I was dizzy with itwet, swollen, aching in places I’d never inhabited before. Margaret’s body didn’t rush toward release the way mine did; it simmered, built layer by layer until I felt like I might combust from sheer anticipation.
As the room emptied, Margaret caught my elbowmy arm now, strong fingers wrapping around Margaret’s thinner oneand steered me toward the quiet hallway outside the restrooms.
“Storage closet,” she muttered. “Now.”
I didn’t argue.
The door clicked shut behind us. Dim light from a single bulb. Shelves of extra linens, the faint smell of bleach and lavender.
She pushed megentlyagainst the wall. My back arched; Margaret’s breasts lifted with the motion. She loomed over me in my own body, heat radiating off skin I knew was fever-hot.
“We can’t” I started.
“We already did,” she whispered in my voice, rougher now. “And your body won’t stop thinking about it.”
Her handmy handslid up under the hem of the navy dress, callused fingertips tracing the lace edge of panties already soaked through. I gasped, hips jerking forward involuntarily.
“Tell me to stop,” she said, eyes locked on mine.
I didn’t.
Instead I reached up, tangled Margaret’s fingers in my own hair, and pulled her down into another kiss. This one was hungrier. Teeth. Tongue. The rough slide of my stubble against her softer skin. Her palm cupped me through the lacefirm, knowing pressure right where I needed itand I moaned into her mouth, the sound high and feminine and utterly foreign.
She rubbed slow circles, learning the rhythm of this body the way I’d learned mine over years. I rocked against her hand, chasing the building wave, thighs trembling.
“Ethan,” she breathed against my earmy ear now“let go. Just this once.”
The orgasm hit like a slow-rolling tide instead of the sharp snap I was used to. It started deep, radiated outward in warm pulses that left me shaking, clinging to her shoulders, biting my lip so hard I tasted blood to keep from crying out loud enough for the hallway to hear.
When it finally ebbed, I sagged against her, forehead to her collarbonemy collarbonebreathing hard.
She kissed my temple, soft now. “The brooch,” she murmured. “We still need to find it.”
I nodded, dazed. “After… after the photos. Before the ceremony.”
She helped me straighten the dress, smooth the chignon, wipe smudged lipstick with her thumb. Then she opened the door a crack, checked the hall, and slipped out first.
I waited thirty seconds, heart still thundering, body still humming.
Then I followed.
Eight hours until vows.
And I had no idea how I was going to walk down that aisle pretending I hadn’t just come undone in a storage closetwearing someone else’s skin, craving someone else’s touch, while the woman who used to be me waited in mine.
The photos were next. Outdoor portraits in the hotel garden before the ceremonygolden hour light, everyone in their finery, the kind of shots that would end up framed on mantels and mocked on group chats for decades.
I stood on the lawn in Margaret’s navy dress, sensible flats sinking slightly into the damp grass, trying to look like I belonged among the younger crowd. The photographera cheerful woman named Mara with a camera the size of a small cannonkept repositioning us.
“Margaret, darling, chin up a touch! You’ve got such elegant posture.”
Elegant. Right. I lifted Margaret’s chin, felt the unfamiliar pull of skin that had lost some of its elasticity, and smiled the tight, practiced smile I’d seen her use a hundred times. Across the grouping, Margaret-in-my-body lounged against a stone pillar in the charcoal suit, sleeves rolled to the elbows, looking effortlessly cool in a way I usually had to work for. She caught my eye and flexed my fingersslow, deliberatethen let her hand drop to rest low on my own hip. A casual gesture to anyone watching. To me, it was a promise.
Sophie was radiant between us, laughing as Clara darted in and out of frame trying to photobomb with peace signs. Every time Sophie turned to me“Aunt Margaret, come stand closer!”and slipped an arm around my waist, the contact sent fresh sparks racing under my skin. Her fingers brushed the small of my back, just above where the dress’s zipper sat, and I had to lock Margaret’s knees to keep from swaying.
The ache from the storage closet hadn’t faded. If anything, it had settled in deeper, a low, constant throb that pulsed in time with my heartbeather heartbeat. Every brush of lace against swollen flesh reminded me exactly how wet I still was, how sensitive the folds had become. I pressed my thighs together when no one was looking and nearly whimpered at the pressure.
Mara called for couple shots next. “Bride and groom first, then we’ll add family!”
Sophie tugged me forwardthinking I was Margaret, of courseand positioned me on her other side so the three of us stood together: Sophie in the middle, “Ethan” on her right, “Margaret” on her left. The irony was so thick I could taste it.
“Perfect,” Mara said. “Big smiles!”
Sophie leaned into meinto Margaret’s bodyher cheek brushing mine. Her breath was warm against my ear. “You’ve been so quiet today,” she murmured, just for me. “Everything okay?”
I turned Margaret’s head, met her eyes. So close I could see the flecks of gold in her irises, smell the faint citrus of her shampoo. “Just… savoring it,” I said in the older woman’s voice. “Watching you two. It’s beautiful.”
Sophie’s smile softened, genuine. “You always know what to say.”
Behind her, Margaret-in-my-body watched us with an expression I couldn’t quite readjealousy? Hunger? Pride? She stepped closer on Sophie’s other side, slid an arm around her waist, and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. The gesture was tender, almost reverent. Sophie melted into it.
And Itrapped in Margaret’s skinfelt a sharp, unexpected twist in my chest. Not just arousal anymore. Something softer. Hotter. The sight of my own body holding the woman I loved, touching her with a gentleness I’d always been too impatient to master… it unraveled me.
The camera clicked. Again. Again.
When Mara finally called a break, Sophie excused herself to touch up lipstick. Clara ran off to chase butterflies with one of the ring bearers. The garden emptied for a moment.
Margaret stepped up behind meclose enough that I could feel the heat rolling off my own body.
“Storage closet again?” she murmured, lips brushing the shell of my earMargaret’s ear.
“No time,” I whispered back, even as my hips shifted backward instinctively, seeking contact. “Photos resume in ten.”
“Then here.” Her handmy handslipped under the hem of the dress again, hidden by the angle of our bodies and the low stone wall at our backs. Fingers found soaked lace, pushed it aside with practiced ease. Two fingers slid inside meslow, deepand I had to clamp a hand over my own mouth to muffle the sound.
She curled them, found that spot I’d never been able to reach properly in this body, and stroked. Steady. Relentless. Her thumb circled my clit at the same time, slick and sure.
I trembled against her, back arched, breasts heaving under the navy silk. The orgasm built faster this timesharperbecause she knew exactly what this body needed now. I came with a choked sob, biting down on my own palm, thighs shaking so hard I nearly buckled.
She held me through it, steady as stone, until the aftershocks faded. Then she withdrew her fingers, brought them to her lipsmy lipsand licked them clean with slow, deliberate swipes of tongue. Watching herself do it was obscene. Intimate. Mine.
“Brooch,” she said quietly, voice rough. “I think it’s in the bridal suite. Sophie mentioned Margaret’s things were brought there this morning for ‘sentimental photos.’”
I nodded, still catching my breath. “After the first look. We’ll slip in.”
She adjusted my dress for me, smoothed a stray lock of gray hair behind my ear. “You’re doing beautifully,” she saidmy voice saying it, but her warmth behind the words. “Stronger than I ever gave you credit for.”
I looked up at herat meand felt something shift again. Not just lust. Respect. Affection. A strange, mirrored tenderness.
The photographer called us back.
We rejoined the group separately, faces composed, bodies humming with shared secrets.
Sophie reappeared, lipstick perfect, eyes bright. She took my handMargaret’s handand squeezed.
“Ready for the aisle?” she asked.
I squeezed back. “More than ever.”
I woke up to the smell of lavender and old books, which was the first wrong thing.
My alarm should have been the sharp ping of my phonesome upbeat synth track I’d set to “motivational asshole mode.” Instead there was silence, thick hotel-room silence, broken only by the faint ticking of a wall clock I didn’t remember owning. My body felt… heavy. Not gym-sore heavy. Not even post-night-out heavy. It felt like someone had poured concrete into my joints and then politely asked them to creak.
I opened my eyes.
The ceiling was wrong. Too high, too ornate, crown molding that belonged in a period drama. The bed was wrong toosoft in that way old mattresses are soft, like they’ve given up fighting gravity decades ago. I tried to sit up and my back immediately lodged a formal complaint. A dull ache bloomed behind my knees. My handswhen I lifted them to rub my facewere not mine.
They were smaller. Knotted at the knuckles. Liver spots scattered like spilled coffee across the backs. Thin gold wedding band on the left ring finger, worn smooth from years. Nails short, unpainted, practical.
I stared at them for what felt like ten full seconds.
Then I screamed.
It came out wrong. Higher, raspier, an older woman’s startled yelp instead of my usual baritone bark. I clapped a hand over my mouthmy new, unfamiliar mouthand tasted lipstick. Not gloss. Actual matte lipstick, the kind that feels like wax and smells faintly of roses.
I scrambled out of bed (or tried to; the knees locked halfway and I nearly face-planted into a floral rug). There was a full-length mirror on the wardrobe door. I didn’t want to look. I looked anyway.
Margaret stared back at me.
Not some random old lady. Margaret. The Margaret. Sophie’s family friend, the retired principal who once told mein front of twenty people at the engagement partythat “youth is wasted on the young and charm is wasted on the cocky.” Gray hair pulled into a neat chignon. Wire-rimmed glasses hanging from a chain around myherneck. A silk dressing gown the color of weak tea. And behind the glasses, my own wide, panicked eyes.
I whispered, “No. No no no no.”
The voice was hers. Dry, precise, faintly British even though she was born in Ohio. I hated how authoritative it sounded even when I was the one panicking.
Phone. I needed my phone.
I lurched across the roomevery step a negotiation with joints that had apparently unionized against meand found a small clutch purse on the dresser. Inside: reading glasses, tissues, a tin of mints, a hotel keycard, andthank Godmy phone. Except it wasn’t my phone. It was hers. An iPhone 8, cracked screen protector, wallpaper of a black-and-white photo of two kids who were probably her grandchildren.
I tried Face ID anyway. It didn’t work. Obviously.
Passcode. I typed my birthday.
Nothing.
Her birthday? I had no idea.
I typed 01011958 on a guess (she’d once said she was “born the year they launched Sputnik, which explains my lifelong suspicion of bright ideas”). The phone unlocked.
First thing I did: opened the camera and switched to selfie mode.
Yeah. Still Margaret.
Second thing: checked the time. 7:42 a.m. Wedding was at 4:00 p.m. Rehearsal brunch at 10:00. Sophie was probably already in the bridal suite getting her hair done, surrounded by bridesmaids and mimosas and that calming playlist she loved.
I could text her. I could call her. I could say, “Babe, something insane happened, I’m in Margaret’s body, please don’t freak out.”
And then what?
She’d think I was drunk. Or high. Or having a psychotic break forty-eight hours before our wedding. She’d call my brother. She’d call her mom. Within twenty minutes the entire wedding party would know the groom was claiming to be trapped in a sixty-seven-year-old woman’s body. The photos would leak. TwitterXwould have a field day. “Tech bro groom swaps souls with grandma, more at 11.”
No. No way.
I wasn’t telling anyone. Not Sophie. Not James. Not even Clara, who’d probably believe me and then try to livestream it.
I had to fix this quietly. Find the broochMargaret’s stupid cursed brooch that I’d laughed at last night when she’d pinned it to her lapel and muttered something about “family nonsense.” I’d touched it. I remembered touching it when I helped her with her coat. That had to be it.
I rummaged through the purse again. No brooch. Checked the nightstand, the dresser drawers, under the bed like an idiot. Nothing.
The ceremony was in eight hours. I had to get through the morning looking like Margaret, sounding like Margaret, acting like Margaret, while Margaretsomewhere in my bodywas probably waking up in the groom’s suite wondering why she suddenly had abs and could see without glasses.
I caught my reflection again. Margaret’s stern mouth was currently twisted into something like horror.
“Okay,” I said aloud in her voice. “You built a thirty-million-dollar valuation from a dorm room. You can handle one wedding in heels.”
I opened the wardrobe.
Dresses. Cardigans. Low block heels that looked like they’d been designed by someone who hated fun.
I picked the least offensive outfita navy dress with sensible sleevesand started the longest morning of my life.
First problem: pantyhose.
Second problem: I had no idea how to walk in any of these shoes without looking like a newborn giraffe.
Third problem: in about two hours I had to sit at a table with Sophie’s entire family, smile politely, and pretend I was a retired school principal who approved of their daughter marrying me.
I took a deep breath that hurt my ribs in a brand-new way.
Then I squared Margaret’s narrow shoulders, put on her glasses, and opened the hotel-room door.
Showtime.
I stepped into the hallway, Margaret's sensible flats squeaking faintly on the carpet like they were judging me with every step. The hotel was buzzing alreadymaids pushing carts, distant laughter from the lobby, the faint clink of breakfast trays. My heartor rather, her heartwas pounding in a way that felt foreign, slower but insistent, like an old engine revving up after years in storage.
First stop: the groom's suite. My suite. Where Margaret was probably freaking out in my body right now. I needed to confront her, figure out how to reverse this, and swear her to secrecy. But walking down that hall felt like a marathon. These knees weren't built for speed; every stride sent a twinge up my thighs, and I had to fight the urge to hunch forward like she always did.
A door opened ahead, and out stepped one of the groomsmenwait, no, it was the hotel concierge, a young guy in a crisp uniform. He smiled politely. "Good morning, ma'am. Can I help you with anything?"
Ma'am. God, that stung. I forced Margaret's lips into what I hoped was her signature no-nonsense smile. "No, thank you. Just heading tofamily matters."
He nodded and moved on, but not before his eyes flicked downsubtly, professionallyto my chest. Or her chest. I felt a flush creep up my neck. These breasts were substantial, heavy in a way I'd never experienced, shifting slightly under the dress with each step. It was distracting, almost sensual, the fabric brushing against skin that felt hypersensitive. I shook it off. Focus, Ethan.
By the time I reached my suite door, I was sweating. Knocked twice, sharp and principal-like. No answer. I tried the handlelocked. Shit. My keycard was probably in my real pants pocket, wherever that body was now.
"Open up," I hissed in her voice, glancing around to make sure no one was watching. "It's me. Ethan."
The door cracked open after a beat, and there I wasmy own face staring back at me, wide-eyed and pale. Except it wasn't me. It was Margaret in my skin, her expression a mix of terror and something else. Exhilaration? She yanked me inside and slammed the door.
"What in God's name" she started in my voice, deep and resonant, but with her clipped cadence. It was weird hearing my baritone sound so proper.
"Shh!" I cut her off, pushing past into the room. My room looked the same: tux hanging on the closet door, my phone charging on the nightstand, a half-empty protein shake from last night. But seeing it from this height, this angle, made everything feel off-kilter.
Margaretin my bodypaced, running my hands through my hair in a way that'd mess up the style I'd planned. "This is the brooch. I told you it was cursed! My great-aunt swore it swapped her with a cousin on her wedding day in '32. We need to find it and"
"I know," I snapped, her voice cracking a bit. "I touched it last night. But we can't tell anyone. Not Sophie, not anyone. We'll fix this before the ceremony."
She stopped pacing, turning to face me. My own eyes raked over her bodymy body now occupied by her. It was surreal, like looking in a funhouse mirror. And then something shifted. She adjusted my stance, squaring my shoulders, and I noticed how my athletic build filled out the robe she must've thrown on. Broad chest, the faint outline of abs under the fabric. I'd always been proud of that body, but seeing it from the outside, controlled by someone else it stirred something unexpected. A heat low in my bellyher bellythat I wasn't prepared for.
"Why are you staring?" she demanded, but there was a flush on my cheeks now. Her in there.
"I nothing." I averted my eyes, but they landed on the mirror across the room. There we were: an older woman and a young man, standing too close in a hotel room. The contrast was electric. Her mind in my prime physique, my energy trapped in her seasoned form. I felt a forbidden curiosity bubble up. What did this body feel like, really? Not just the achesthe pleasures?
She seemed to sense it too. Stepped closer, towering over me now in a way that made my pulse quicken. "Ethan, this is serious. But good Lord, your body. It's like being plugged into a live wire. Everything's so responsive." Her voicemy voicedropped lower, and I saw her glance down at herself, adjusting the robe where it tented slightly. Was that arousal? In my body?
I swallowed hard, Margaret's throat dry. "Yeah, well, yours isn't exactly a slouch. It's sensitive. In ways I didn't expect." My hand, almost without thinking, brushed against the side of her hipmy hip now. The skin there was softer, warmer than I'd imagined. A shiver ran through me, electric, pooling between my legs in a unfamiliar, building ache. Women's bodies, I realized with a jolt, didn't ramp up the same way it was slower, deeper, like a wave gathering.
She inhaled sharply at the touch, my eyes darkening. "We shouldn't This is madness." But she didn't pull away. Instead, her handmy strong, callused hand from rock climbingreached out and cupped my cheek, thumb tracing Margaret's jawline. The contact was intimate, charged. I leaned into it, feeling the roughness against smooth skin, and suddenly we were kissing.
It was clumsy at firstme in her body, her in mine, lips meeting in a rush of confusion and heat. My mouth was softer, more yielding; hers firmer, insistent. I tasted my own aftershave on her tongue, mixed with her surprise. Hands roamed: mine exploring the hard planes of my chest under the robe, hers sliding down to grip Margaret's waist, pulling me closer. The friction of fabric against skin sent sparks through me, her nipplesmy nipples nowtightening under the dress.
We broke apart, breathing hard. "This is wrong," I gasped in her voice, but my body betrayed me, thighs pressing together instinctively, seeking more pressure.
"Utterly," she agreed in mine, but her grin was wicked, eyes gleaming with that secret delight she'd mentioned. "But educational. Your stamina, Ethanit's intoxicating." She flexed my arms, and I felt a rush watching the muscles shift.
We didn't go furthernot then. Time was ticking, and the brunch loomed. But the air hummed with possibility, a secret shared in swapped flesh. I straightened her dressmy dressand she helped me fix the chignon, fingers lingering a second too long on my neck.
"Find the brooch," I said firmly, stepping back. "It's probably in your things. I'll play you at brunch; you play me. Act normal."
She nodded, but as I turned to leave, her voicemy voicecalled softly, "Ethan? This body of yours it wants things. Be careful."
I shivered again, that erotic undercurrent lingering as I slipped back into the hall. The wedding was hours away, and now, on top of everything, I had to navigate Margaret's form through a sea of family and friends, all while ignoring the newfound desires humming under her skin.
I slipped out of the groom’s suite with my pulse still hammering in Margaret’s narrower chest, the memory of that kiss burning behind my eyes like a live wire. Her lipsmy lips nowstill tingled from the press of my own mouth, from the rough scrape of stubble that wasn’t there anymore. I could taste the faint salt of my skin on her tongue, could still feel the hard ridge of my erection pressing against her thigh through the robe when we’d broken apart.
Focus, Ethan. Brunch. Family. Act like a retired principal who thinks you’re marrying beneath her.
The elevator ride down was torture. Every sway of the car made Margaret’s breasts shift under the navy dress, the silk lining sliding against nipples that had hardened and stayed that way since the kiss. I crossed my arms under them instinctivelysupport, modesty, whateverand immediately regretted it. The pressure only sharpened the ache, sent a slow, liquid heat curling low in her belly. I’d spent years chasing that kind of build-up in my own body: quick, focused, explosive. This was different. Deeper. Patient. Insistent. Like her body knew exactly how long it could draw the tension out before it snapped.
When the doors opened on the second floor, the private dining room was already alive with chatter and clinking silverware. Sophie’s family, my groomsmen, a few cousins milling around the buffet. And therestanding near the mimosa station in my charcoal suit, looking unfairly goodwas me. Margaret-in-my-body, hair still mussed from my fingers, tie slightly crooked in a way I never allowed. She caught my eye across the room and gave the tiniest nod, the corner of my mouth quirking in that knowing half-smile I usually saved for closing deals.
I forced Margaret’s posture straight, smoothed the dress over hips that felt too wide and too soft, and walked in.
“Margaret, darling!” EleanorSophie’s motherswooped in first, air-kissing both cheeks. “You look positively radiant this morning. Did you do something different with your makeup?”
I blinked behind the wire-rimmed glasses. “Just… slept well,” I managed in her crisp tone. “The hotel pillows are divine.”
Eleanor laughed and linked her arm through mine, steering me toward the table. Every step rubbed the lace of Margaret’s underwear against sensitive skin I’d never paid attention to before. The seam pressed right where the heat was gathering, a constant, maddening friction. I bit the inside of her cheek to keep from gasping.
Sophie was already seated, radiant in a soft white sundress, hair half-up in loose waves. When she saw “Margaret,” her face lit up.
“Aunt Margaret!” She stood and hugged mecarefully, the way you hug someone fragile. Her perfume wrapped around me, familiar and devastating. “I’m so glad you’re here early. Ethan’s been weirdly quiet this morning. Nerves, I think.”
I hugged her back, Margaret’s arms thinner than I was used to, but the embrace felt achingly real. Sophie’s breasts pressed softly against mine through the thin fabric; I could feel the warmth of her skin, the slight catch of her breath. My bodyher bodyreacted instantly: a fresh rush of wetness between my thighs, thighs that clenched without permission. I pulled back too quickly.
“He’ll be fine,” I said, patting her arm with what I hoped was maternal reassurance. “Men get peculiar before weddings. It passes.”
Sophie laughed, but her eyes searched my faceMargaret’s facea second longer than usual. “You sound so sure.”
Because I am sure, I wanted to say. Because I’m the one who’s going to marry you in eight hours and I’m currently fighting the urge to drag you into the nearest coat closet just to feel your hands on this body that suddenly wants everything.
Instead I smiled Margaret’s tight, polite smile and let Eleanor guide me to a chair.
Across the table, Margaret-in-my-body was watching. Our eyes locked again. She lifted my mimosa glass in a tiny toast, lips curving. Thendeliberatelyshe ran my tongue along the rim of the flute, slow and suggestive, before taking a sip. My stomach flipped. Her in my skin, playing with sensations I knew too well: the cold fizz on the tongue, the subtle stretch of jaw muscles, the way a single swallow could send warmth straight down.
I shifted in the seat. The chair was hard; the pressure against my clitGod, even thinking the word in her voice felt obscenewas almost too much. I pressed my thighs together under the tablecloth and tried to focus on the conversation.
Clara bounded over then, all eleven-year-old energy, clutching her tablet. “Aunt Margaret! Look, I made a TikTok edit of Uncle Ethan’s proposal video with cat filters!”
She shoved the screen in my face. There I wasmy real bodydown on one knee in the park last spring, edited so cartoon ears twitched on my head and whiskers sprouted whenever I smiled at Sophie.
“Very… creative,” I said, voice dry. Clara beamed.
Margaretacross the tableleaned forward. “Clara, sweetheart,” she said in my deeper register, “why don’t you show me how to make one of those later? I could use some modernizing.”
Clara’s eyes went wide. “You? On TikTok?”
“Desperate times,” Margaret replied, and shot me a look that said: We’re going to talk. Soon.
The brunch dragged. Every time Sophie laughed, every time her fingers brushed mine passing the fruit platter, every accidental graze of her knee against Margaret’s under the table sent another pulse of arousal through me. By the time people started drifting toward the elevators for hair and makeup appointments, I was dizzy with itwet, swollen, aching in places I’d never inhabited before. Margaret’s body didn’t rush toward release the way mine did; it simmered, built layer by layer until I felt like I might combust from sheer anticipation.
As the room emptied, Margaret caught my elbowmy arm now, strong fingers wrapping around Margaret’s thinner oneand steered me toward the quiet hallway outside the restrooms.
“Storage closet,” she muttered. “Now.”
I didn’t argue.
The door clicked shut behind us. Dim light from a single bulb. Shelves of extra linens, the faint smell of bleach and lavender.
She pushed megentlyagainst the wall. My back arched; Margaret’s breasts lifted with the motion. She loomed over me in my own body, heat radiating off skin I knew was fever-hot.
“We can’t” I started.
“We already did,” she whispered in my voice, rougher now. “And your body won’t stop thinking about it.”
Her handmy handslid up under the hem of the navy dress, callused fingertips tracing the lace edge of panties already soaked through. I gasped, hips jerking forward involuntarily.
“Tell me to stop,” she said, eyes locked on mine.
I didn’t.
Instead I reached up, tangled Margaret’s fingers in my own hair, and pulled her down into another kiss. This one was hungrier. Teeth. Tongue. The rough slide of my stubble against her softer skin. Her palm cupped me through the lacefirm, knowing pressure right where I needed itand I moaned into her mouth, the sound high and feminine and utterly foreign.
She rubbed slow circles, learning the rhythm of this body the way I’d learned mine over years. I rocked against her hand, chasing the building wave, thighs trembling.
“Ethan,” she breathed against my earmy ear now“let go. Just this once.”
The orgasm hit like a slow-rolling tide instead of the sharp snap I was used to. It started deep, radiated outward in warm pulses that left me shaking, clinging to her shoulders, biting my lip so hard I tasted blood to keep from crying out loud enough for the hallway to hear.
When it finally ebbed, I sagged against her, forehead to her collarbonemy collarbonebreathing hard.
She kissed my temple, soft now. “The brooch,” she murmured. “We still need to find it.”
I nodded, dazed. “After… after the photos. Before the ceremony.”
She helped me straighten the dress, smooth the chignon, wipe smudged lipstick with her thumb. Then she opened the door a crack, checked the hall, and slipped out first.
I waited thirty seconds, heart still thundering, body still humming.
Then I followed.
Eight hours until vows.
And I had no idea how I was going to walk down that aisle pretending I hadn’t just come undone in a storage closetwearing someone else’s skin, craving someone else’s touch, while the woman who used to be me waited in mine.
The photos were next. Outdoor portraits in the hotel garden before the ceremonygolden hour light, everyone in their finery, the kind of shots that would end up framed on mantels and mocked on group chats for decades.
I stood on the lawn in Margaret’s navy dress, sensible flats sinking slightly into the damp grass, trying to look like I belonged among the younger crowd. The photographera cheerful woman named Mara with a camera the size of a small cannonkept repositioning us.
“Margaret, darling, chin up a touch! You’ve got such elegant posture.”
Elegant. Right. I lifted Margaret’s chin, felt the unfamiliar pull of skin that had lost some of its elasticity, and smiled the tight, practiced smile I’d seen her use a hundred times. Across the grouping, Margaret-in-my-body lounged against a stone pillar in the charcoal suit, sleeves rolled to the elbows, looking effortlessly cool in a way I usually had to work for. She caught my eye and flexed my fingersslow, deliberatethen let her hand drop to rest low on my own hip. A casual gesture to anyone watching. To me, it was a promise.
Sophie was radiant between us, laughing as Clara darted in and out of frame trying to photobomb with peace signs. Every time Sophie turned to me“Aunt Margaret, come stand closer!”and slipped an arm around my waist, the contact sent fresh sparks racing under my skin. Her fingers brushed the small of my back, just above where the dress’s zipper sat, and I had to lock Margaret’s knees to keep from swaying.
The ache from the storage closet hadn’t faded. If anything, it had settled in deeper, a low, constant throb that pulsed in time with my heartbeather heartbeat. Every brush of lace against swollen flesh reminded me exactly how wet I still was, how sensitive the folds had become. I pressed my thighs together when no one was looking and nearly whimpered at the pressure.
Mara called for couple shots next. “Bride and groom first, then we’ll add family!”
Sophie tugged me forwardthinking I was Margaret, of courseand positioned me on her other side so the three of us stood together: Sophie in the middle, “Ethan” on her right, “Margaret” on her left. The irony was so thick I could taste it.
“Perfect,” Mara said. “Big smiles!”
Sophie leaned into meinto Margaret’s bodyher cheek brushing mine. Her breath was warm against my ear. “You’ve been so quiet today,” she murmured, just for me. “Everything okay?”
I turned Margaret’s head, met her eyes. So close I could see the flecks of gold in her irises, smell the faint citrus of her shampoo. “Just… savoring it,” I said in the older woman’s voice. “Watching you two. It’s beautiful.”
Sophie’s smile softened, genuine. “You always know what to say.”
Behind her, Margaret-in-my-body watched us with an expression I couldn’t quite readjealousy? Hunger? Pride? She stepped closer on Sophie’s other side, slid an arm around her waist, and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. The gesture was tender, almost reverent. Sophie melted into it.
And Itrapped in Margaret’s skinfelt a sharp, unexpected twist in my chest. Not just arousal anymore. Something softer. Hotter. The sight of my own body holding the woman I loved, touching her with a gentleness I’d always been too impatient to master… it unraveled me.
The camera clicked. Again. Again.
When Mara finally called a break, Sophie excused herself to touch up lipstick. Clara ran off to chase butterflies with one of the ring bearers. The garden emptied for a moment.
Margaret stepped up behind meclose enough that I could feel the heat rolling off my own body.
“Storage closet again?” she murmured, lips brushing the shell of my earMargaret’s ear.
“No time,” I whispered back, even as my hips shifted backward instinctively, seeking contact. “Photos resume in ten.”
“Then here.” Her handmy handslipped under the hem of the dress again, hidden by the angle of our bodies and the low stone wall at our backs. Fingers found soaked lace, pushed it aside with practiced ease. Two fingers slid inside meslow, deepand I had to clamp a hand over my own mouth to muffle the sound.
She curled them, found that spot I’d never been able to reach properly in this body, and stroked. Steady. Relentless. Her thumb circled my clit at the same time, slick and sure.
I trembled against her, back arched, breasts heaving under the navy silk. The orgasm built faster this timesharperbecause she knew exactly what this body needed now. I came with a choked sob, biting down on my own palm, thighs shaking so hard I nearly buckled.
She held me through it, steady as stone, until the aftershocks faded. Then she withdrew her fingers, brought them to her lipsmy lipsand licked them clean with slow, deliberate swipes of tongue. Watching herself do it was obscene. Intimate. Mine.
“Brooch,” she said quietly, voice rough. “I think it’s in the bridal suite. Sophie mentioned Margaret’s things were brought there this morning for ‘sentimental photos.’”
I nodded, still catching my breath. “After the first look. We’ll slip in.”
She adjusted my dress for me, smoothed a stray lock of gray hair behind my ear. “You’re doing beautifully,” she saidmy voice saying it, but her warmth behind the words. “Stronger than I ever gave you credit for.”
I looked up at herat meand felt something shift again. Not just lust. Respect. Affection. A strange, mirrored tenderness.
The photographer called us back.
We rejoined the group separately, faces composed, bodies humming with shared secrets.
Sophie reappeared, lipstick perfect, eyes bright. She took my handMargaret’s handand squeezed.
“Ready for the aisle?” she asked.
I squeezed back. “More than ever.”
One day, a man wakes up in another world. There, he discovers that he has the power to possess other living things! However, there's a lot that he doesn't know. Like how this world works, how he got here, or why he's also dead!? But joining him to solve this mystery is Lilima, a witch who he becomes bound to. Poe now seeks answers about his death!
The bright blue sky shone down, with sunlight beaming its warmth upon the land. Birds chirped and the rustling of the tree branches as the wind blew filled the air with the sounds of life. To the north, an expansive open field dotted occasionally with trees. To the west, a dense forest with monsters and animals; beyond that, a mountain range where a large dragon took roost.
Footsteps softly crunched the leaves that littered the ground as a witch, carrying a basket of ingredients necessary for spells and potions, walked back towards town. Her robe was battered and her hat was covered in mud and dirt. She used her staff, which was taller than she was, even with the hat, as a walking cane with her other hand. The bright clear orb that adorned the top reflected the sunlight brilliantly.
"I HATE coming out here to forage," she groaned as she continued walking. She didn't exactly have much of a choice though. Too poor to afford anything of good quality in the market, this was her only option. "Too many bugs, those stupid boars, and not to mention those fucking angry trees!" She sighed. "At least this should keep me for another two weeks if I'm lucky."
The path ahead was long back towards town, but relatively peaceful. A few trees were around, but the mostly open spaces made it easy to see any danger that would be approaching, or anything out of the ordinary. Such as another person, walking around aimlessly and very confused near a tree. The witch slowed her pace, though still wary. Thieves and bandits were common around the area. She gripped onto her staff tightly and readied herself.
"Hello sir," she said, trying her best to sound confident. "Are you okay? You seem lost?"
The man was odd in appearance to say the least. Rather than traditional wear or leather that the witch expected, the man wore just a simple shirt with a depiction of some sort of being on the front in bright colors. His pants were a simple denim pair of jeans and his shoes were sneakers, scuffed from years of wear. He didn't have any sort of weapon on him, nor pouches or a bag with him. From the lack of supplies, the witch thought this man had been the victim of a robbery.
"Huh? Oh, thank goodness! Another person!" the man said excitedly. "I don't know why, but you have to help me! I don't know where I am and when I try to go anywhere, I'm stuck! Look!" The man tried to reach out to the witch, but his hand was stopped, as though touching an invisible wall.
The witch looked at the way the man's hand was stopped. She cautiously reached her hand out, as some monsters were known to create invisible barriers, but none of them should be around here. If there was, it was something that absolutely needed to be reported to the Mage Guild. To her relief, as she reached her hand out, there was nothing stopping her.
"Okay, what the hell?" the man said, scratching his head. He repeatedly tried to reach out, but he was still stopped by some unseen force.
"Is it only here?" the witch asked, starting to move around the area to get a better understanding.
"No, it's all around this tree. I don't know why, but I've been stuck here for days." The man groaned, squatting down and scratching his head again. "You're the first person I've seen in a long time."
"Oh," the witch said, "That is to be expected. This pathway isn't usually frequented because of the dangerous forest nearby. Can you show me exactly where you get stopped?"
The man showed the witch, and she carved into the ground to show the boundary. It was a square shape, centered around the tree that was nearby. The witch crossed her arms, concerned. The way that this was laid out was clearly some sort of magical effect. But, it was no ordinary monster that could have done this. Yet at the same time, if some creature powerful enough to do this was around, there would have been some sort of alert. The only conclusion that she could draw is that this was created by another mage.
"You said that you hadn't seen someone else for a long time. What happened before that?" the witch asked.
"Before that…" The man crossed his arms to think, tapping his foot. "I remember walking through the city at the crosswalk. I had my headphones on at the time and I was listening to something. I couldn't hear the sound of the bus until it was too late. Then it felt like I was floating and I remember someone was talking to me. Then it's really fuzzy after that. The next clear thing I remember is that I woke up here on the ground. And then several days passed until we reach just now. It's weird though. I spent a few days stuck here, but I didn't feel hungry or anything. It didn't even get that cold during the night."
The witch tilted her head in confusion. "Headphones? Bus? What are those things?"
"Wait, you don't know what headphones are? Or a bus? Hang on, hang on, where am I?"
"You're in the outskirts of Fauxivi. Specifically, you're to the southwest," the witch said. She tilted her staff slightly and created a large image of the map of the surrounding area.
"What the-?" the man said in shock. "How are you doing that? Holograms?"
"Doing what?"
"That!" He gestured to the map. "How did you make that appear?"
"It's just a simple spell, really. It's nothing that advanced. A very basic beginner spell, actually."
"Spell?" The man looked around, tapping on the invisible boundary. He looked at the witch, then at the map, then back to the witch. He gulped and took a deep breath. "Tell me, have you ever heard of a place called America, or Japan, or France?"
The witch shook her head. "I can't say that I'm familiar with any of them. They aren't any nations in the world; nor any cities."
The man pounded his fist on the barrier, causing the witch to recoil backwards slightly. "I knew it. I've been sent to another world."
"Another world? You mean, you've travelled dimensions?" The witch seemed rather stunned, but she didn't sound like she doubted the man.
"It would appear so. I'm not from your world." The man paced around, running his hand through his hair before stomping on the ground repeatedly. "Ugh! I finally get to go to another world full of magic and I'm stuck in this stupid box! I don't even know why I'm here!"
"I may be able to get you out," the witch said.
The man turned to her. "Really? How?"
The witch tapped her staff against the boundary and there was a shimmering light. "It looks like someone cast a binding spell on you. Meaning that something around has you bound and stuck here. If I can find what it is, I might be able to undo it." She points over to the tree. "Whatever it is, it seems like it's there."
"Could it be the tree itself?" the man asked, walking over to it.
The witch shook her head as she got closer to the tree. "No. Binding spells like this don't work on living things. They have to be inorganic, like a rock or a sword. It could be as big as a carriage, or as small as a rusty nail." She set down her staff against the tree. "I'm going to climb up here and see if I can find anything."
"Are you sure?" the man asked.
"Don't worry. I'm a seasoned forager." The witch smiled wide and proud before getting a grip on the tree. "Just get below me and get ready to catch me if something happens." The man nodded and got into position.
The witch climbed up the tree, being careful to only grab and climb on the branches that could support her weight. She scoured around the tree, trying to look for anything out of the ordinary at first. With her experienced eyes, no detail like that would have gotten past her. However, she didn't see anything, but her instincts told her that there was something more. She put her hands together and began to chant softly. Light glowed from her fingertips as she traced sigils and glyphs into the air.
There, in the tree branches, she notices a shimmering of something hidden with magic. Cautiously, she reached forward and touched the shimmering.
In a brief second, it disappeared and the witch was face to face with the skull of a decaying corpse.
"AAAAAHHH!" she screamed, recoiling back and losing her balance, falling out of the tree.
"Shit!" The man reaches his arms out to catch her.
The next thing the man knew, he was on the ground, sprawled out. His vision was fuzzy, but blinking slowly adjusted his vision. He looked left and right, trying to see if the witch was okay, but he didn't see her anywhere.
"He-!"
The man stopped as he clutched his throat. The voice that he just spoke with was not his own. It sounded like the witch's voice.
What the hell? he thought. Did something happen when she fell? Why did I sound like her?
"Hello?" He quickly covered his mouth. That was definitely not his voice; it was certainly the witch's.
Cautiously, he pulled his hands away from his mouth, looking down at his hands. They were smooth and gentle, not at all like his own. The nails were polished and refined, and jewelry adorned the fingers and wrists. The man looked down at himself. Two large breasts sat on his chest, as well as the witch's robe, even more battered from the fall.
"This can't be real," he said as he reached up to feel the breasts. As soon as his fingers touched them, a shock of sensations ran through him. His lip quivered slightly and he let out a soft puff of air. "Holy shit. Yeah, they're real. But, why am I her?" He twisted around, getting a good look at her.
"Did I transform into her?" He looked around the area and shook his head. "No, she's not around, and there's no sign that she moved anywhere. So, the only conclusion is that I somehow ended up inside of her."
He let his hands caress the witch's body, running up and down along her sides, shivering at the touch. "How in the world did I end up inside of her?"
He softly squeezed her breasts again, gently moaning from the pleasure. He looked down at the robe again, seeing the curves of the witch's body. "I know I probably shouldn't. But, it just feels so good. Maybe a little peek won't hurt, right?"
He pulled at the collar of the robe, lifting it away from her body and peering down. What greeted him was a soft pair of D-cup sized breasts, supported by a leather bra.
"Whoa. Who knew under this robe that she was such a baddie?"
The man reached back and squeezed his ass, feeling the size and softness. "And she's got quite the ass too. Man, she is sexy."
Then, his hands traced around to the front around the hips and rested at the thighs. He gulped, knowing exactly what was under there. He felt her body twitch in anticipation. He looked around at the empty fields. "Miss? Miss witch lady? Are you here?"
There was no response.
He leaned up back against the tree, tugging at the sides of her robe and hiking them up. Though it was a struggle with her large breasts in the way, the man was able to see the purple cotton panties that the witch had on. He gently ran his fingers along the front, the body twitching at the touch.
"It's so soft," he said, both talking about the flesh and the fabric.
Cautiously, he slipped his fingers underneath the panties and down to her pussy. The heat and wetness coating the fingers almost instantly. The man breathed heavily as he curled a finger. Instantly, the sensation of rubbing against the labia shot through him like lightning, causing him to feel weak in the knees.
"Holy shit," he said with a soft exhale. "From just that little bit?"
He brought a second finger to the folds, letting the pleasure just wash over him. "Fuck, this feels incredible." His other hand reached up, cupping the witch's breasts.
He started to hump his hand, the slickness making it easier and easier to rub where it felt best. The man stroked in rhythm with his breathing. The heat and pleasure of masturbating sends shockwaves through his body.
"So this is what it's like? It's amazing! It's so sensitive! It's-"
Huh?
The man stopped as he heard the witch's voice coming from inside of his head. "Lady, is that you?"
What's going on? Why can't I move? Wait, no, I can feel my hand moving but… I'm not in control? Wait…
The pleasure of touching her sensitive parts caught up to her awareness, sending shocks of pleasure through her.
"I-I can explain!" he stammered, trying to figure out if he even could.
Am I… wait… Mister!? What are you doing inside of me? And being inside of me!?
The man felt a pressure building up inside, like something, or someone was fighting and pushing him out. In his shock, he tried to fight back, but the force was too much for him. He felt himself lose control of the witch's mouth.
"EXPELLIANA!"
The witch shouted and the man felt himself launched forward and he tumbled along the ground until he hit the barrier. The witch quickly pulled her fingers out from under her robe. She crossed her arms in front of her chest and leered at the man.
"What the hell is wrong with you!? Was this all part of your plan or something? What were you doing with my body!? How were you even inside me to begin with!?" she shouted, grabbing her staff from the tree and pointing it at the man. "I feel so unclean now!"
The man quickly raised up his hands. "Whoa whoa, easy now! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Okay, yes, I shouldn't have done that, but I had no idea what was going on. I wasn't sure if I was dreaming or what. And then it just started to feel too good; I couldn't help myself and I got lost in it all."
The witch's frown twitched before she fixed up her clothing. "Fine. I can tell that you are telling the truth." She huffed.
"I'm sorry, I really am," the man said. He ran his fingers through his hair again and sighed.
The witch sighed. "I'll accept your apology, but that doesn't mean that you're forgiven for that."
"I understand," the man said as he looked down at his hands. "But, how did that even happen? Was that something that you did?"
The witch shook her head. "No, that wasn't me. I think…" She walked up to the man and swiped her hand, which passed right through his chest like air. "That's what I was afraid of."
The man watched in horror as it passed through him. "What the-? Am I…?" He patted his chest, able to feel the sensation. "Am I dead?"
"I think so," the witch said with a somber expression. "There was a body in the tree. I'm… pretty sure that was you."
The man sat down on the ground, unable to believe it. "I'm dead, but I'm here. I'm a ghost." He thunked his head back against the invisible barrier and his eyes went wide. "Wait, is that why I'm stuck here!? Can I not leave because my body is here?"
"That seems to be the case."
The man fell to his knees, trying to grasp at the ground, but it only phased right through his fingers. "I'm stuck here forever? What kind of cruel fate is this? What did I do to deserve this kind of hell!?"
The witch squeezed tightly on her staff and sighed again. "I… do know of a way that I can get you out."
"You do?" the man said. "Please! Do so! And I'll do whatever I can to make it up to you! Both for freeing me and for what I was doing to you."
"Fine, I'll accept that. But if you ever do something like that again, I will stick you somewhere that no one will find you for centuries!" The man nodded in understanding.
The witch stepped outside of the boundary and began to chant again. Her hands glowed and she drew symbols in the air, forming a circle. Then, she took the tip of her staff and pushed it through the glowing symbols. The symbols swirled around the orb at the top, causing it to glow a brilliant pink. Then, she tapped the staff against the barrier. Instantly, there was a shattering sound like glass where the boundary was. The man looked down as he began to glow the same pink as the symbol. The orb glowed again before the symbols disappeared and all of the glow disappeared.
"It is done," the witch said.
The man cautiously reached his hand out towards the boundary. To his delight, it was as the witch said. The boundary was gone. He breathed a sigh of relief.
"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" he said. He ran to give her a hug, but in his excitement, forgot about his current state and simply passed right through the witch. "Oh, right. Dead."
"I cannot do anything about that, unfortunately," the witch said with a dejected look. "But, at least now, you will no longer be trapped in that small area."
"Well, that's something at least," the man said. He took another sigh, walking forward and phasing through the grass that blew from the wind. "I can at least walk around more and see what else is- GAH!"
The man stopped as he felt himself hit another boundary. "Oh, what gives?" he asked, tapping against it. "Is there another boundary here?"
"Not quite," the witch said as she jerked her staff back. As she did, the boundary pushed the man backwards. "As a spirit, you are still bound to something. All spirits are tethered to something, which limits the range of their motion. It can be broken and allow the spirit to roam freely, but I am not strong enough to free you from that. But, what I was able to do is move the tether from your body to my staff."
"So, now I'm stuck around you?" the man asked.
"My staff, more specifically," she clarified.
"Well, it's definitely better than being stuck in that box for who knows how long," the man said as he walked over to the witch.
"If I get stronger, or we find someone who specializes in spirits, we may be able to free you completely from a tether. And I'm still mad at you for what you did earlier, but you don't deserve to be stuck by this tree. So, that's why I decided to bring you along with me."
"Then, I guess that makes us traveling buddies," the man said, trying to make light of the situation. "So if I'm going to be tethered to you, or your staff rather, I better know your name at least. I can't just keep calling you Miss or Lady or Witch the whole time."
"Right, my apologies. I hadn't properly introduced myself." She bows towards the man. "My name is Lilima Van Pelt. And what is your name?"
"My name is-" The man stopped, as though he lost his train of thought. "My name is… is…" His eyes went wide again. "I… don't know my name!"
"I have heard such a thing can happen to spirits. Some of their memories get damaged and lost in their transition from becoming alive to undead," Lilima said.
"Shit, what else have I forgotten?" the man asked, trying to wrack his brain for answers, but they wouldn't come to him.
"Yes, everything about you is such a mystery." Lilima thinks for a bit. "Well, since I also can't just call you Mister or Spirit, I shall give you a name. Given that you appear to have some sort of possession based power, then your name will be Poe. How does that sound?"
"Poe," he said. "Huh, I like it. Poe it is then."
"Well then, Poe, it's good to meet you," Lilima said as she picked up her basket of ingredients. "Now then, let's be off."
"Wait, what about my body in the tree? Shouldn't we at least give it a burial or look for clues?" Poe asked, gesturing to the tree.
"I guess that would be the honorable thing to do."
Lilima sets down her staff and ingredients and once again climbs the tree. However, as she goes to reach for the body, she stops. Lilima makes her way back down the tree. "I'm sorry, but I can't. It's too dangerous."
"Too dangerous? Why is that?" Poe asked, tilting his head.
Lilima turns around to face Poe. "Your tether range was a square, meaning it was created. Natural tether ranges are circular. And your body was hidden with magic. Now that I had a better look, there was also traps on it. If it was moved, it would alert whoever did this. Whatever happened to you was intentional. Someone not only wanted you dead, but wanted you stuck here and didn't want anyone to find out."
"But then why stick me here in this tree?" Poe asked, scratching his head. "Why not put me somewhere that no one would find me, like a lake or bury me?"
Lilima shakes her head. "I don't know. But, I want to help you, so I plan to find out." She picks up her basket of ingredients and her staff. "Plus, right now, your body stays in a protected state. It won't get any worse, so we can always come back later."
"Well, alright. You're the knowledgeable magic one here," Poe said with a sigh. "I'll follow your lead. Though, not like I exactly have a choice. So, where are we going now?"
Lilima points ahead and starts walking with Poe at her side. "We're going to the city, Fauxivi."
The bright blue sky shone down, with sunlight beaming its warmth upon the land. Birds chirped and the rustling of the tree branches as the wind blew filled the air with the sounds of life. To the north, an expansive open field dotted occasionally with trees. To the west, a dense forest with monsters and animals; beyond that, a mountain range where a large dragon took roost.
Footsteps softly crunched the leaves that littered the ground as a witch, carrying a basket of ingredients necessary for spells and potions, walked back towards town. Her robe was battered and her hat was covered in mud and dirt. She used her staff, which was taller than she was, even with the hat, as a walking cane with her other hand. The bright clear orb that adorned the top reflected the sunlight brilliantly.
"I HATE coming out here to forage," she groaned as she continued walking. She didn't exactly have much of a choice though. Too poor to afford anything of good quality in the market, this was her only option. "Too many bugs, those stupid boars, and not to mention those fucking angry trees!" She sighed. "At least this should keep me for another two weeks if I'm lucky."
The path ahead was long back towards town, but relatively peaceful. A few trees were around, but the mostly open spaces made it easy to see any danger that would be approaching, or anything out of the ordinary. Such as another person, walking around aimlessly and very confused near a tree. The witch slowed her pace, though still wary. Thieves and bandits were common around the area. She gripped onto her staff tightly and readied herself.
"Hello sir," she said, trying her best to sound confident. "Are you okay? You seem lost?"
The man was odd in appearance to say the least. Rather than traditional wear or leather that the witch expected, the man wore just a simple shirt with a depiction of some sort of being on the front in bright colors. His pants were a simple denim pair of jeans and his shoes were sneakers, scuffed from years of wear. He didn't have any sort of weapon on him, nor pouches or a bag with him. From the lack of supplies, the witch thought this man had been the victim of a robbery.
"Huh? Oh, thank goodness! Another person!" the man said excitedly. "I don't know why, but you have to help me! I don't know where I am and when I try to go anywhere, I'm stuck! Look!" The man tried to reach out to the witch, but his hand was stopped, as though touching an invisible wall.
The witch looked at the way the man's hand was stopped. She cautiously reached her hand out, as some monsters were known to create invisible barriers, but none of them should be around here. If there was, it was something that absolutely needed to be reported to the Mage Guild. To her relief, as she reached her hand out, there was nothing stopping her.
"Okay, what the hell?" the man said, scratching his head. He repeatedly tried to reach out, but he was still stopped by some unseen force.
"Is it only here?" the witch asked, starting to move around the area to get a better understanding.
"No, it's all around this tree. I don't know why, but I've been stuck here for days." The man groaned, squatting down and scratching his head again. "You're the first person I've seen in a long time."
"Oh," the witch said, "That is to be expected. This pathway isn't usually frequented because of the dangerous forest nearby. Can you show me exactly where you get stopped?"
The man showed the witch, and she carved into the ground to show the boundary. It was a square shape, centered around the tree that was nearby. The witch crossed her arms, concerned. The way that this was laid out was clearly some sort of magical effect. But, it was no ordinary monster that could have done this. Yet at the same time, if some creature powerful enough to do this was around, there would have been some sort of alert. The only conclusion that she could draw is that this was created by another mage.
"You said that you hadn't seen someone else for a long time. What happened before that?" the witch asked.
"Before that…" The man crossed his arms to think, tapping his foot. "I remember walking through the city at the crosswalk. I had my headphones on at the time and I was listening to something. I couldn't hear the sound of the bus until it was too late. Then it felt like I was floating and I remember someone was talking to me. Then it's really fuzzy after that. The next clear thing I remember is that I woke up here on the ground. And then several days passed until we reach just now. It's weird though. I spent a few days stuck here, but I didn't feel hungry or anything. It didn't even get that cold during the night."
The witch tilted her head in confusion. "Headphones? Bus? What are those things?"
"Wait, you don't know what headphones are? Or a bus? Hang on, hang on, where am I?"
"You're in the outskirts of Fauxivi. Specifically, you're to the southwest," the witch said. She tilted her staff slightly and created a large image of the map of the surrounding area.
"What the-?" the man said in shock. "How are you doing that? Holograms?"
"Doing what?"
"That!" He gestured to the map. "How did you make that appear?"
"It's just a simple spell, really. It's nothing that advanced. A very basic beginner spell, actually."
"Spell?" The man looked around, tapping on the invisible boundary. He looked at the witch, then at the map, then back to the witch. He gulped and took a deep breath. "Tell me, have you ever heard of a place called America, or Japan, or France?"
The witch shook her head. "I can't say that I'm familiar with any of them. They aren't any nations in the world; nor any cities."
The man pounded his fist on the barrier, causing the witch to recoil backwards slightly. "I knew it. I've been sent to another world."
"Another world? You mean, you've travelled dimensions?" The witch seemed rather stunned, but she didn't sound like she doubted the man.
"It would appear so. I'm not from your world." The man paced around, running his hand through his hair before stomping on the ground repeatedly. "Ugh! I finally get to go to another world full of magic and I'm stuck in this stupid box! I don't even know why I'm here!"
"I may be able to get you out," the witch said.
The man turned to her. "Really? How?"
The witch tapped her staff against the boundary and there was a shimmering light. "It looks like someone cast a binding spell on you. Meaning that something around has you bound and stuck here. If I can find what it is, I might be able to undo it." She points over to the tree. "Whatever it is, it seems like it's there."
"Could it be the tree itself?" the man asked, walking over to it.
The witch shook her head as she got closer to the tree. "No. Binding spells like this don't work on living things. They have to be inorganic, like a rock or a sword. It could be as big as a carriage, or as small as a rusty nail." She set down her staff against the tree. "I'm going to climb up here and see if I can find anything."
"Are you sure?" the man asked.
"Don't worry. I'm a seasoned forager." The witch smiled wide and proud before getting a grip on the tree. "Just get below me and get ready to catch me if something happens." The man nodded and got into position.
The witch climbed up the tree, being careful to only grab and climb on the branches that could support her weight. She scoured around the tree, trying to look for anything out of the ordinary at first. With her experienced eyes, no detail like that would have gotten past her. However, she didn't see anything, but her instincts told her that there was something more. She put her hands together and began to chant softly. Light glowed from her fingertips as she traced sigils and glyphs into the air.
There, in the tree branches, she notices a shimmering of something hidden with magic. Cautiously, she reached forward and touched the shimmering.
In a brief second, it disappeared and the witch was face to face with the skull of a decaying corpse.
"AAAAAHHH!" she screamed, recoiling back and losing her balance, falling out of the tree.
"Shit!" The man reaches his arms out to catch her.
The next thing the man knew, he was on the ground, sprawled out. His vision was fuzzy, but blinking slowly adjusted his vision. He looked left and right, trying to see if the witch was okay, but he didn't see her anywhere.
"He-!"
The man stopped as he clutched his throat. The voice that he just spoke with was not his own. It sounded like the witch's voice.
What the hell? he thought. Did something happen when she fell? Why did I sound like her?
"Hello?" He quickly covered his mouth. That was definitely not his voice; it was certainly the witch's.
Cautiously, he pulled his hands away from his mouth, looking down at his hands. They were smooth and gentle, not at all like his own. The nails were polished and refined, and jewelry adorned the fingers and wrists. The man looked down at himself. Two large breasts sat on his chest, as well as the witch's robe, even more battered from the fall.
"This can't be real," he said as he reached up to feel the breasts. As soon as his fingers touched them, a shock of sensations ran through him. His lip quivered slightly and he let out a soft puff of air. "Holy shit. Yeah, they're real. But, why am I her?" He twisted around, getting a good look at her.
"Did I transform into her?" He looked around the area and shook his head. "No, she's not around, and there's no sign that she moved anywhere. So, the only conclusion is that I somehow ended up inside of her."
He let his hands caress the witch's body, running up and down along her sides, shivering at the touch. "How in the world did I end up inside of her?"
He softly squeezed her breasts again, gently moaning from the pleasure. He looked down at the robe again, seeing the curves of the witch's body. "I know I probably shouldn't. But, it just feels so good. Maybe a little peek won't hurt, right?"
He pulled at the collar of the robe, lifting it away from her body and peering down. What greeted him was a soft pair of D-cup sized breasts, supported by a leather bra.
"Whoa. Who knew under this robe that she was such a baddie?"
The man reached back and squeezed his ass, feeling the size and softness. "And she's got quite the ass too. Man, she is sexy."
Then, his hands traced around to the front around the hips and rested at the thighs. He gulped, knowing exactly what was under there. He felt her body twitch in anticipation. He looked around at the empty fields. "Miss? Miss witch lady? Are you here?"
There was no response.
He leaned up back against the tree, tugging at the sides of her robe and hiking them up. Though it was a struggle with her large breasts in the way, the man was able to see the purple cotton panties that the witch had on. He gently ran his fingers along the front, the body twitching at the touch.
"It's so soft," he said, both talking about the flesh and the fabric.
Cautiously, he slipped his fingers underneath the panties and down to her pussy. The heat and wetness coating the fingers almost instantly. The man breathed heavily as he curled a finger. Instantly, the sensation of rubbing against the labia shot through him like lightning, causing him to feel weak in the knees.
"Holy shit," he said with a soft exhale. "From just that little bit?"
He brought a second finger to the folds, letting the pleasure just wash over him. "Fuck, this feels incredible." His other hand reached up, cupping the witch's breasts.
He started to hump his hand, the slickness making it easier and easier to rub where it felt best. The man stroked in rhythm with his breathing. The heat and pleasure of masturbating sends shockwaves through his body.
"So this is what it's like? It's amazing! It's so sensitive! It's-"
Huh?
The man stopped as he heard the witch's voice coming from inside of his head. "Lady, is that you?"
What's going on? Why can't I move? Wait, no, I can feel my hand moving but… I'm not in control? Wait…
The pleasure of touching her sensitive parts caught up to her awareness, sending shocks of pleasure through her.
"I-I can explain!" he stammered, trying to figure out if he even could.
Am I… wait… Mister!? What are you doing inside of me? And being inside of me!?
The man felt a pressure building up inside, like something, or someone was fighting and pushing him out. In his shock, he tried to fight back, but the force was too much for him. He felt himself lose control of the witch's mouth.
"EXPELLIANA!"
The witch shouted and the man felt himself launched forward and he tumbled along the ground until he hit the barrier. The witch quickly pulled her fingers out from under her robe. She crossed her arms in front of her chest and leered at the man.
"What the hell is wrong with you!? Was this all part of your plan or something? What were you doing with my body!? How were you even inside me to begin with!?" she shouted, grabbing her staff from the tree and pointing it at the man. "I feel so unclean now!"
The man quickly raised up his hands. "Whoa whoa, easy now! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Okay, yes, I shouldn't have done that, but I had no idea what was going on. I wasn't sure if I was dreaming or what. And then it just started to feel too good; I couldn't help myself and I got lost in it all."
The witch's frown twitched before she fixed up her clothing. "Fine. I can tell that you are telling the truth." She huffed.
"I'm sorry, I really am," the man said. He ran his fingers through his hair again and sighed.
The witch sighed. "I'll accept your apology, but that doesn't mean that you're forgiven for that."
"I understand," the man said as he looked down at his hands. "But, how did that even happen? Was that something that you did?"
The witch shook her head. "No, that wasn't me. I think…" She walked up to the man and swiped her hand, which passed right through his chest like air. "That's what I was afraid of."
The man watched in horror as it passed through him. "What the-? Am I…?" He patted his chest, able to feel the sensation. "Am I dead?"
"I think so," the witch said with a somber expression. "There was a body in the tree. I'm… pretty sure that was you."
The man sat down on the ground, unable to believe it. "I'm dead, but I'm here. I'm a ghost." He thunked his head back against the invisible barrier and his eyes went wide. "Wait, is that why I'm stuck here!? Can I not leave because my body is here?"
"That seems to be the case."
The man fell to his knees, trying to grasp at the ground, but it only phased right through his fingers. "I'm stuck here forever? What kind of cruel fate is this? What did I do to deserve this kind of hell!?"
The witch squeezed tightly on her staff and sighed again. "I… do know of a way that I can get you out."
"You do?" the man said. "Please! Do so! And I'll do whatever I can to make it up to you! Both for freeing me and for what I was doing to you."
"Fine, I'll accept that. But if you ever do something like that again, I will stick you somewhere that no one will find you for centuries!" The man nodded in understanding.
The witch stepped outside of the boundary and began to chant again. Her hands glowed and she drew symbols in the air, forming a circle. Then, she took the tip of her staff and pushed it through the glowing symbols. The symbols swirled around the orb at the top, causing it to glow a brilliant pink. Then, she tapped the staff against the barrier. Instantly, there was a shattering sound like glass where the boundary was. The man looked down as he began to glow the same pink as the symbol. The orb glowed again before the symbols disappeared and all of the glow disappeared.
"It is done," the witch said.
The man cautiously reached his hand out towards the boundary. To his delight, it was as the witch said. The boundary was gone. He breathed a sigh of relief.
"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" he said. He ran to give her a hug, but in his excitement, forgot about his current state and simply passed right through the witch. "Oh, right. Dead."
"I cannot do anything about that, unfortunately," the witch said with a dejected look. "But, at least now, you will no longer be trapped in that small area."
"Well, that's something at least," the man said. He took another sigh, walking forward and phasing through the grass that blew from the wind. "I can at least walk around more and see what else is- GAH!"
The man stopped as he felt himself hit another boundary. "Oh, what gives?" he asked, tapping against it. "Is there another boundary here?"
"Not quite," the witch said as she jerked her staff back. As she did, the boundary pushed the man backwards. "As a spirit, you are still bound to something. All spirits are tethered to something, which limits the range of their motion. It can be broken and allow the spirit to roam freely, but I am not strong enough to free you from that. But, what I was able to do is move the tether from your body to my staff."
"So, now I'm stuck around you?" the man asked.
"My staff, more specifically," she clarified.
"Well, it's definitely better than being stuck in that box for who knows how long," the man said as he walked over to the witch.
"If I get stronger, or we find someone who specializes in spirits, we may be able to free you completely from a tether. And I'm still mad at you for what you did earlier, but you don't deserve to be stuck by this tree. So, that's why I decided to bring you along with me."
"Then, I guess that makes us traveling buddies," the man said, trying to make light of the situation. "So if I'm going to be tethered to you, or your staff rather, I better know your name at least. I can't just keep calling you Miss or Lady or Witch the whole time."
"Right, my apologies. I hadn't properly introduced myself." She bows towards the man. "My name is Lilima Van Pelt. And what is your name?"
"My name is-" The man stopped, as though he lost his train of thought. "My name is… is…" His eyes went wide again. "I… don't know my name!"
"I have heard such a thing can happen to spirits. Some of their memories get damaged and lost in their transition from becoming alive to undead," Lilima said.
"Shit, what else have I forgotten?" the man asked, trying to wrack his brain for answers, but they wouldn't come to him.
"Yes, everything about you is such a mystery." Lilima thinks for a bit. "Well, since I also can't just call you Mister or Spirit, I shall give you a name. Given that you appear to have some sort of possession based power, then your name will be Poe. How does that sound?"
"Poe," he said. "Huh, I like it. Poe it is then."
"Well then, Poe, it's good to meet you," Lilima said as she picked up her basket of ingredients. "Now then, let's be off."
"Wait, what about my body in the tree? Shouldn't we at least give it a burial or look for clues?" Poe asked, gesturing to the tree.
"I guess that would be the honorable thing to do."
Lilima sets down her staff and ingredients and once again climbs the tree. However, as she goes to reach for the body, she stops. Lilima makes her way back down the tree. "I'm sorry, but I can't. It's too dangerous."
"Too dangerous? Why is that?" Poe asked, tilting his head.
Lilima turns around to face Poe. "Your tether range was a square, meaning it was created. Natural tether ranges are circular. And your body was hidden with magic. Now that I had a better look, there was also traps on it. If it was moved, it would alert whoever did this. Whatever happened to you was intentional. Someone not only wanted you dead, but wanted you stuck here and didn't want anyone to find out."
"But then why stick me here in this tree?" Poe asked, scratching his head. "Why not put me somewhere that no one would find me, like a lake or bury me?"
Lilima shakes her head. "I don't know. But, I want to help you, so I plan to find out." She picks up her basket of ingredients and her staff. "Plus, right now, your body stays in a protected state. It won't get any worse, so we can always come back later."
"Well, alright. You're the knowledgeable magic one here," Poe said with a sigh. "I'll follow your lead. Though, not like I exactly have a choice. So, where are we going now?"
Lilima points ahead and starts walking with Poe at her side. "We're going to the city, Fauxivi."
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Kyle is a guy that is looking to live a straight life after getting out of jail recently, have been caught up in a life of crime early on in life.
However, when an old friend contacts him to steal a priceless artifact together, Kyle decides to turn back to his old ways.
Things quickly go wrong during the score, which results in him unexpectedly swapping bodies with the city's number 1 superheroine. He knows the right thing to do would be to figure out a way to swap them back, but that idea becomes increasingly difficult when he finds out just the kind of life and pleasure her body truly has to offer him.
Kyle learned early that luck was a finite resource, and whatever share he'd been allotted had been spent before he turned sixteen. He grew up in a neighborhood where police sirens were background noise and everyone knew which streets to avoid after dark - dangerous and belonging to someone. Trouble wasn't something you sought out there. It found you, it waited, and if you didn't learn fast enough, it took what it wanted.
Kyle hadn't learned fast enough. By the time he was seventeen, he'd been arrested twice - one for running lookout, once for possession he swore wasn't his. The judge hadn't cared. The system rarely did. He'd done his time in juvenile detention, learned how to keep his head down, how to read people, how to pick locks with nothing but patience and a bent piece of metal. Skills that weren't exactly résumé-friendly. Now, at twenty-eight, he stood behind a coffee counter that smelled perpetually burnt no matter how often he cleaned it and wearing a stained apron with a name tag that felt like a lie. 'Kyle.'
The bell above the café door chimed, and another customer stepped up, already frowning.
"Large oat milk latte. Extra hot. and make sure it's not bitter this time."
Kyle forced a smile.
"Sure thing."
Behind him, one of his coworkers leaned against the prep counter scrolling through their phone. His supervisor - who showed up late every shift and still somehow found the time to criticize - hovered nearby, arms crossed.
"Try not to mess it up," she muttered. "We've had complaints."
Kyle bit back the response that came to mind, he always did - Rent didn't care about pride.
When the café slowed down - mid-afternoon lull and the sunlight slanted through the windows - Kyle leaned against the counter and let his thoughts drift upward. Literally. A massive digital billboard across the street flickered with life, displaying the familiar image: Elasti-Woman, mid-leap, limbs extended impossibly as she saved a collapsing monorail car. The city's favorite heroine. Strong, confident, sexy and smiling like she belonged exactly where she stood.
Kyle watched, transfixed. She was tall, 6ft with shoulder length brown hair, blue eyes, a model-like face, and a curvaceous, athletic build that Kyle absolutely adored. Every time he thought of her, he caught himself in daydreams. She made it look effortless. Being admired, being needed. Being someone.
He imagined it sometimes - what it would feel like to be that. To matter. To have people look at you with awe instead of suspicion. To have power instead of apologies. And, he also fantasized about her. He wasn't blind, or dead. The thought of someone like Elasti-Woman even glancing his way - let along sharing a night with him - was ridiculous. He knew that. He wasn't delusional but that still didn't stop his chest from tightening every time she smiled. Reality snapped back when his supervisor cleared her throat sharply.
"Kyle. Table three's been waiting."
He nodded, moved, served, and apologized for things that weren't his fault.
That night, as he trudged back to his apartment, his phone buzzed. Unknown number. He almost ignored it, almost.
"Yeah?" he said into the device, keys jingling around his finger.
There was a pause. Then a familiar voice, rougher than he remembered, but unmistakable.
"Damn, man. You still answer like you're expecting trouble."
Kyle stopped fiddling with his keys, stopping dead in his tracks.
"Evan?"
"Still alive," The man replied, laughing. "Mostly. Heard you got out clean."
"Clean enough," Kyle said cautiously. "How'd you get this number?"
He didn't know Evan too well. But they did get into trouble with each other a few times.
"Mutual acquaintance. Relax. I'm not calling to drag you into anything."
Somehow, Kyle didn't believe that and snorted in response.
"That's new."
They talked, caught up as much as they could, shared stories that carefully avoided their worst years. Evan had bounced around - inside, outside, always skirting the edge. Eventually, Kyle sighed and realized - he wanted something.
"Alright," he said. "You didn't call me just to reminisce. I know that, but that's as much as I do know."
Evan hesitated, a little too long.
"There's a job," he explained. "Easy one. Museum slash pawn shop. I'm working security nights. They just got this artifact - private collection. Worth millions if you know the right people."
Kyle's stomach sank. "No," he said immediately. "Besides, what type of museum also runs a pawn shop? That doesn't make sense."
"Heard the guy's shady. Runs it for tax evasion or some shit," Evan dismissed his concerns and then continued. "Just one night. In and out. I'll give you the layout, the security codes. You're better with locks than me."
It was true. Kyle was better.
He knew how to read the tension in a tumbler, to feel the give of a pin. It was almost instinct.
"You know how I live," Evan pressed, "A few days. Just this."
"No," Kyle repeated. "I'm done. I like my freedom."
Evan pushed and joked, promised it was clean. That there would be no heat and no alarms.
"Come on. Besides, what dead end job do you have that can actually support you?" Evan's question struck a nerve. "I've seen you. You're good. You're wasting your talent."
Kyle could almost see the artifact. He could imagine it sitting in a velvet-lined box, protected by glass. For a few hours of risk, it'd be enough to move out of his apartment, maybe go somewhere new and actually start fresh. To pay for a night with someone like her - no. He shut that down immediately.
"I... I can't, Evan. I'm sorry." The silence on the other end stretched, heavy and disappointed. Kyle pictured Evan's face - jaw tight, eyes already turning inward, and recalculating.
"Alright," Evan said at last. "your call." The line then went dead.
Kyle stood there on the sidewalk for a long moment, the city humming around him like static. When he finally unlocked his apartment and stepped inside, the door shut with a soft click that felt louder than it should have.
The place smelled faintly of cheap detergent and he stared at the crumbling wallpaper stained yellow with old cigarette smoke. He learned the back of his head against the door and sighed. Freedom, Evan had said. What freedom was this?
Kyle huffed a quiet, humorless laugh and crossed the apartment. This wasn't freedom, this was a holding cell. A cage built out of rent, reputation, and the kind of mistakes that never quite stopped following you. That night passed, then another.
The next few days were uneventful in the most exhausting way possible - early mornings, bitter coffee, aching feet, incompetent bosses and coworkers. The call faded, dulled by routine. Kyle told himself that was it. That Evan had taken the no and moved on.
Nearly a week later, his phone buzzed while he was sitting alone in his apartment, half-watching a muted news segment about another villain sighting downtown. Evan again. Kyle frowned at the name, thumb hovering over the screen.
For a minute, he considered ignoring it, letting it go to voicemail and letting the past stay where it belonged. But curiosity got the better of him and he swiped it open where an image filled the display.
An exquisite silver chain dripped with the light of a thousand tiny rose-cut gems, their soft blush catching the light with every subtle movement. Suspended from this delicate chain is a magnificent centerpiece: a single, flawlessly faceted pink diamond, cut so deeply that its heart seems to pulse with a captured sunset and refused to let go. It didn't look fake, it looked important.
"This is it," Evan's message followed. "They think it's worthless. Owner's a drunk. Barely remembers it's there. You know this is your way out. This is something that can support you."
Kyle stared at the photo longer than he meant to - Until the edges blurred and the necklace dissolved into color and light, and something else took its place in his mind - a familiar figured stretched across the skyline, confident and untouchable. Elasti-Woman, smiling like the city belonged to her. Kyle locked his phone and set it face-down on the table.
Later that night, the temperature dropped, the chill creeping in through the thin walls. He went to his closet to grab a hoodie - nothing dramatic, something he did a thousand times before. He pulled one free and something heavier shifted on the shelf above.
A pair of gloves slid into view, worn, thin and familiar. He hadn't touched them in years. Kyle picked them up slowly, turning them over in his hands. The leather was cracked and softened by years of use. They fit perfectly still when he slipped them on - muscle memory kicking in before he could stop it. He should have thrown them out, years ago. He knew that. Told himself that he kept them because they were useful. Because you never knew when you might need them for something harmless. A stuck lock, a broken latch, pulling weeds... 'Just in case'. He took them off and set them back on the shelf, heart beating faster than it should have, then shut the closet door. He remembered the days of picking locks with them helping keep a steady hand.
The days rolled on - Coffee, complaints, the same tired routine. Kyle almost convinced himself the call had been a lapse - an old ghost rattling chains that didn't exist anymore. At least that was what it appeared as, Evan didn't push at first. Just checked in. Casual messages. An old joke he shared with Kyle and one other in the past. Then, every few days, another reminder slipped in. A comment about rising prices. A nudge about people he knew who'd 'made it out.' About how unfair it was that some people got powers and others got scraps. Once, late at night while Kyle laid in bed, another photo appeared - the necklace again and closer this time. The pink diamond caught the light differently, deeper, warmer. For a second, Kyle swore it looked like it was glowing.
He turned his phone face-down on his chest and went to bed, staring at the ceiling until morning. And then frustration did the rest - the café, the bills, the way his supervisor talked to him like he was disposable. The way customers smiled politely until they stepped away and the way the city celebrated its heroes and forgot everyone else existed. By the time he finally picked up his phone, his hands were steady. He typed one word.
"When?"
Two days later, Kyle and Evan found themselves standing before the building Evan had described. It was a strange place: half museum, half pawn shop. The sign above the entrance, written in faded gold lettering, read: The Reliquary & Loan.
The front windows displayed a jumble of antique weapons and dusty paintings, while just beyond them, in a more curated space, sat a collection of pristine artifacts under bright spotlights. The place felt... liminal. Not quite legitimate, not quite criminal. At night, the building seemed to loom taller than he remembered when they did the daytime walk-by Evan had insisted was 'all the recon they'd need.'
The outside itself was marble façade with reinforced glass for the antiques. It seemed too clean or well-lit for something that supposedly blended museum curation with pawnshop discretion. Private collection acquisitions always meant money, and money meant security. Kyle adjusted the thin gloves on his hands and exhaled slowly through his nose.
"Tell me again," he murmured, "Why the service entrance doesn't have a guard?"
Evan, crouched beside a side door and working far too confidently on a tablet that looked older than Kyle's phone shrugged.
"Because they cut costs. Owner's cheap."
Kyle didn't like that answer. He liked them to be specific - Names, timetables.
Still, the door opened cleanly under his picks, the lock giving way with a familiar, almost comforting click. For a moment, muscle memory carried him - same old dance, same steady hands.
The rush crept in anyway, uninvited. Inside, the air smelled like polish from one of those machines, freshly scrubbed of all the dirt, and the air was almost stuffy - like it was still. The floor plan Evan had given him flashed in Kyle's mind as they moved - but almost immediately, it didn't match.
Display cases sat where corridors were supposed to be. A security camera tracked lazily across a hall that should have been blind. Kyle, thankfully, stopped short and grabbed Evan's sleeve. "That camera wasn't on your map. I thought you said you fucking worked here before?!" he whispered sharply.
Evan, for the first time, looked nervous.
"They... must have updated. It's fine. It's on a loop. I saw the log myself." The excuse was thin. Too thin. But they were already inside. Backing out now felt like a bigger risk than pushing forward. Kyle hated that about himself - how easily sunk costs turned into forward momentum.
The deeper they went, the quieter Evan got. And Kyle led. He always did. But he knew how to read spaces - how sound carried, where footsteps echoed too long, how security sensors felt even when you couldn't see them.
He spotted slightly raised plates just before stepping on them, freezing, and then carefully stepping over. Evan didn't even notice until Kyle grabbed him again.
"Watch where you step," Kyle whispered. "Or this ends with both of us in cuffs."
Despite Kyle's skill, it was his partners that always let him down and it infuriated him.
"Relax," Evan muttered. "You're the pro, right?"
That only served to irk him more, none of this shit was supposed to be here. It was supposed to be easy.
The vault room sat lower than expected, tucked behind a reinforced exhibit wall disguised as a historical installation. This was the real test. Kyle knelt before the keypad, his fingers hovering over the numbers. Evan had given him the code. A sequence that supposedly cycled weekly.
"You're sure about this?" Kyle asked, his heart starting to thrum a heavy, anxious rhythm against his ribs.
"I'm sure," Evan said, though he wouldn't meet Kyle's gaze.
Kyle entered the code. The keypad beeped. ACCESS DENIED
Panic, cold and sharp, lanced through Kyle's chest. "You're an idiot," he seethed. "You gave me the wrong code."
"No, no, I... maybe I typed it wrong?" Evan stammered, fumbling with his tablet again.
"There's a master override. I just need to... Here, I got a new code. Let me enter it."
Evan moved closer, his fingers dancing across the panel, but again; ACCESS DENIED
This time the panel beeped, - just once - a warning. Kyle closed his eyes for half a second, unable to believe this.
"Move."
He knelt, rolling his eyes while pulling tools from his kit. The panel resisted him immediately - newer model, nested failsafes, the kind designed to punish impatience. Sweat prickled along his spine as he worked, fingers moving with slow, careful, practiced precision. Time stretched, every second felt loud and long. When the lock finally disengaged, Kyle nearly laughed in relief.
Inside, the safe stood under that cold white light.
It was already open - probably from the laziness of said owner, thinking that no one would even find the vault. And there it was, resting on a simple black velvet pad. The necklace. The chain was impossibly fine, the rose-cut gems glowing with a soft, internal warmth. The pink diamond at its center was huge. And it was beautiful, it shone like it wanted to be noticed.
Evan gasped, moving towards it.
"See? I told you."
But Kyle didn't move. He stood there, staring. This was it. The whole reason for this risky, half-assed plan. But something was wrong. The hairs on his arms were standing up. A low hum emanated from the necklace, almost imperceptible at the edges of his hearing. He took a step closer.
The closer he got, the more aware he became of it - it wasn't a sound, or a pull exactly, but a pressure - as if he was being hugged. His fingers hovered before touching it.
"Don't just stand there," Evan whispered. "Grab it!"
Kyle wrapped his hand around the chain. It was warm, like holding those hand-warming satchels in the dead of winter while snow drifted all around you. A shiver ran through him, sharp and inexplicable, and for a split second he thought he heard something - not words but a suggestion of a voice, distant and close at the same time. He wasn't sure if the necklace had some other attribute to it. But it certainly felt like it. Then all that focus drained away as soon as Evan swore loudly.
Kyle spun just in time to see Evan's foot catch on a cable that should not have been there. The alarm detonated, exploding outward with sound. Not just a single sound but layers - sirens, lights, automated voice warnings cascading through the building. Kyle's heart slammed into overdrive, the memories of being caught by police, time and time again flashing through his mind. "I told you to watch-!"
"I didn't see it!"
"Because you don't look!" He whispered pointedly.
Kyle swiped the necklace, the gems feeling warm in his palm as they began to run.
He took point again, cutting left where the shortest path should've been - but the corridor ended in a security gate slamming down inches from his face.
"Plan B!" Evan yelled.
"There was no fucking Plan B!"
Kyle's shoes skid as they doubled back, ducking through exhibits as emergency shutters began sealing rooms behind them, Kyle's lungs burned, grip tight around the pendant like it was the only solid thing left in the world. Halfway to the exit, Evan grabbed his arm.
"Give it to me," he shouted over the alarms. "I know a buyer-"
Kyle yanked free, spinning on him. "No. You don't touch it."
"What?! That wasn't the deal!"
"The deal didn't include you set off every alarm in the building!"
Evan's face hardened. "You think you can just take it?"
Kyle didn't answer. He didn't need to. They both knew the answer. If anyone could find a buyer, it was Kyle.
They started at each other for a moment too long - sirens screaming, lights flashing red - and in that moment they knew that they had to split up.
"Split up," Kyle ordered, "Now."
Evan hesitated, then cursed and bolted in the opposite direction. Outside, the streets were swarming with police but Kyle managed to slip past them and turned the corner at a dead run, nearly slamming straight into her. Elasti-Woman dropped from above and touched down lightly in front of him, boots barely making a sound against the pavement. She straightened with confidence, already between him and the street beyond. The glow of emergency lights reflected faintly off the red-and-silver of her suit.
"End of the line," She said, voice calm and practiced, unlike the police who would have been screaming at him to get down.
Kyle skidded to a halt, hands coming up automatically. His heart pounded so hard it made his vision pulse.
"You've got the wrong guy."
She tilted her head, clearly unconvinced.
"Funny. I hear that a lot."
Then she moved first. Her arm snapped forward, stretching impossibly, and Kyle barely managed to duck under it. He stumbled, boots slipping on loose gravel and the alley suddenly felt too narrow - like the walls were closing in. He bolted sideways as her leg elongated in a sweeping kick that cracked against brick where his head had been a second earlier. Kyle thought his best chance would be to get close, so he charged her. Her arm came out and he grabbed at her sleeve, trying to throw her off balance but she caught his wrist. For a moment they were tangled, both straining, both adjusting to the other's movement. Then the pendant slipped free from his jacket, it swung between them and they both instinctively - stupidly - reached for it. Kyle's fingers closed around the chain at the same moment hers did and then the world spun and bent.
Then Darkness swallowed him. When he came to, the first thing he registered was pain. A deep, echoing throb behind his eyes, like his skull had been rung like a bell. He groaned and tried to roll onto his side - and nearly overbalanced.
Something was wrong. His weight didn't sit where it should. His body felt... redistributed. His chest rose and fell more noticeably with each breath, warm pressure pulling differently against gravity.
A curtain of dark, brown hair brushed his jaw and neck, tickling skin that felt oversensitive, almost electric - a tingle of pleasure running through his spine. He blinked, vision swimming, and looked down as his breath caught.
The suit stretched over a shape that definitely had not been his moments ago. Breasts - unmistakable, solid, rising and falling with his labored breathing. Despite the tight suit, they jiggled almost unperceptively. His gloved hands looked narrower, wrists slimmer when he lifted them into view. A soft groan sounded beside him. Kyle turned his head - and froze.
His own body lay a few feet away, sprawled awkwardly against the alley wall. The ski mask tilted as his eyes fluttered open.
"What - what did you do?!"
His voice sounded scared and panic surged immediately, drowning out everything else. Sirens wailed closer and he reacted.
His arm snapped forward - and didn't stop. It stretched, the sensation bizarre and nauseating, like his bone had turned to rubber. His fist connected solidly with his own jaw and his old body crumpled. Kyle stared at his extended arm, then pulled it back. The limb snapped back into place as if it had never been three times his length. Police boots thundered closer and there was little time to process. Kyle played the part and acted as if he were Elasti-Woman. He wasn't sure how exactly he could mimic her movements or mannerisms but it seemed he played the part perfectly.
When the police finally cleared out and the street fell quiet, the silence hit him harder than the sirens had. He had pocketed the pendant and knew that his old body would only have a short stint in jail and that the police wouldn't believe that they've swapped bodies. She'd sound insane to them. His skin was alight as his suit hugged him in places his old clohes never had, stretching smoothly with the movement. A laugh slipped out of him before he could stop it - sharp, incredulous, almost hysterical.
"This is insane," he muttered, the voice startling him all over again.
When he brushed his knuckles against his neck, he felt the slide of loose hair, the faint scent of something clean and expensive. He loved it. He looked down again, the tight suit around his breasts poked out and it made him curious. His hands slid up his side before cupping the full breasts. He stood there, blushing to himself as he pinched the hard nubs between his index and thumb. Another jolt of electricity ran down his spine and he gasped slightly.
"Oh... I see," he said to himself.
This power was not only for fighting criminals. This was a power for himself. He had an idea, a risky one, but one that he had to do before he could think about a way to reverse the body swap. He had to see himself.
“I’ll fix it after this,” he told himself, though the words rang hollow even as he said them.
The thought of giving this back - of stepping out of this skin and returning to his old, invisible life - made something in his chest tighten uncomfortably. He pushed the feeling away, then something caught his eye. A motorcycle - hers. He approached it cautiously, heels clicking against the pavement. He expected no reaction but the moment he swung a leg over, the bike seemed to recognize him. Then he sat, feeling the plush skin of his ass press against the seat.
"Shit..." He muttered.
When the engine roared to life, the vibration traveled up through his legs and spine, through his crotch. The pleasure made him buckle over the handles. The GPS flared to life, a single destination already marked. Home. Kyle hesitated, hands tightening on the grips, then leaned forward and eased into the street, still feeling awkward - yet excited - in the stride of the world's most celebrated heroine.
The bike led him to the last place he expected. A luxurious mansion out in the countryside, set up-top a large hillside. At first, he was just going to park into the drive-way until the motorcycle lights lit up what looked like a normal cliff. A portion of the rock face shimmered, then slid silently away to reveal a dark opening. He guided the motorcycle inside, the rock closing behind him with a soft, decisive thud. The garage was vast. Cars, training equipment, and racks upon racks of weaponry he didn't have names for. In the center, a single white circle glowed on the floor. He dismounted, the bike's engine dying behind him as he stepped into the elevator. The doors closed, and the world dissolved into white light.
"Welcome home, Carmen." A robotic, almost AI-like voice echoed.
His eyes widened at the revelation, Carmen... Starr? His eyes darted down his body, his lips parted. It made sense after some thought. She was rich, prominent. She would have all the means to do something like this. But that also made his fist tighten, nails biting into his feminine hands.
Some people get all the luck... When they opened again, he was standing in her home. It wasn't what he expected. The entire back wall of the main room was a single pane of floor-to-ceiling glass, offering a breathtaking view of the city below, lights glittering like a fallen constellation. The rest was clean, minimalist, almost sterile - white walls, polished marble floors, furniture that looked more like art than something you'd actually sit on. It was a space for looking, not for living. It was beautiful, but it felt like a show home. He walked through it, footsteps echoing, feeling like an intruder in a museum dedicated to a person he was currently wearing. He wanted to find a mirror and he found one in the bedroom - a full-length slab of polished glass. When he had stepped out from the open living space and set foot into the bedroom, his heels sunk into the fine and soft carpet, giving him pause just for a moment. They no longer made a sound as he approached the large bed and mirror which shimmered with light next to the bathroom door. He honestly kind of liked the sound of heels against stone.
Elasti-Woman stared back at him from the mirror. Her face - his face - was flushed, a stray strand of brown hair clinging to her cheek. Those brilliant blue eyes, wide with a mixture of terror and something else he couldn't name yet, were fixed on him. He felt hot - both sweaty and aroused. He knew he had to see more. He licked his lips, tasting something slightly strawberry across those beautifully plump lips. He took a few steps in front of the mirror, watching the curves of his body. He raised both hands and pushed his chest out, he felt a little embarrassed but at the same time... he felt sexy. It felt worth it. A strange, tingling sensation began to grow in his core. It felt... different, compared to anything he's felt before. It felt warmer, hotter, and more... explosive.
He turned away from the mirror and || twirled to give a quick view of his new body from all angles, his head and body still buzzing with a strange new energy. The desire to see more - to feel more - was overwhelming. He had to take off the suit. His fingers fumbled at the hidden seam of her suit, the release catch resisting him for a moment before it gave way with a soft hiss. The material peeled away from his skin, clinging for a second before loosening its grip. The cool air of the room hit his bare shoulders, a stark, shocking contrast to the tight, warm embrace of the suit. He shivered, a reaction to the temperature and the sudden, jarring vulnerability. He slid the red and silver material down over his hips, letting it pool around them. The reflection was breathtaking. She was muscular, but not bulky. Athletic. The muscles in her arms and stomach were defined without being grotesque, her skin smooth and flawless. Her breasts were perfect. High and firm, topped with nipples that were currently hard. His skin shimmered with sweat, the scent was sweet and slightly tangy. "I'm... so sexy..." He muttered, "But... Carmen doesn't normally look like this. This body is much more full. The hair is longer than normal too."
As he looked down his body, he noticed that the suit was so tight that one could easily see a camel-toe and he snickered to himself. That was part of the reason why he felt so hot. He felt a bit more emboldened as he watched his sweaty skin in the mirror. Then he raised his arm and smelled underneath. He nearly gasped at how much it turned him on. He smelled incredible. He found himself craving more of this scent, more of this body, more of this feeling. He felt like he couldn't control himself. He didn't want to be some sort of gross pervert but... the temptation was too strong. His reflection watched as he raised a hand, the fingers slender and graceful. He hesitated, then slowly brought the hand to his breast, letting the pad of his thumb brush against the hard nipple. A soft gasp escaped his lips.
The pleasure was sharp, immediate, and so much more intense than he'd ever anticipated. He did it again, this time pinching the bud lightly, rolling it between his fingers. The jolt that shot through him was electric. He watched, transfixed, as the nipple hardened even more, a deep rose color against the pale skin of his breast. The other breast felt neglected, so he brought his other hand up to it, mirroring the motions. Soon, both breasts were being kneaded and teased, the twin points of pleasure sending waves of warmth down his body, coalescing in the pit of his stomach. He could feel a wetness growing between his legs, a slick heat that was both alien and utterly intoxicating.
He had to get out of this suit and pulled one of his legs free while balancing on the other, a black thong poked out, soaking wet and dripping with so much pussy-juice that it slid down his thighs. Kyle pulled at the elastic suit surrounding his hips,. He needed to see more. He needed to see everything that the masterpiece in the mirror had to offer. He kicked the soaked fabric away, leaving it lying on the carpetted floor like a discarded secret. Now, laid bare except for the heels, he fully examined her body and posture - how she stood up straight and tall despite large breasts, how her skin was a creamy and attractive shade, how her legs were smooth and long. Her thighs gapped but not too much, just to tease her camel-toe in her one-piece suit.
He lifted his breasts, seeing the sweat built up underneath. The cold air felt amazing against his skin, but he wanted to see some of his backside too. He turned, subconsciously further than any normal person could. The curve of his ass was amazing and he bounced up and down, laughing softly as the skin jiggled. His eyes traced down the black of the thong that slid between his butt-cheeks. He was getting too excited, and his breath hitched. Without much of a thought, his hand came up, out, and then smacked the jiggling flesh.
He made a sound half-way between a moan and a yelp, which surprised even himself. He liked the sting of the reddening skin though and that only made him more aroused.
He then slid a finger down across his stomach. It tickled in a way - but also elicited tingling sensations and a hitch of his breath as his fingers glided to the thong's fabric. The warmth emanated from it as he slowly pulled it down. His reflection was a study in contrasts: a powerful, athletic body flushed with arousal, a face that was both his and not his, contorted in a mask of pleasure and disbelief. He took a step back, then another - watching his reflection in the mirror until eventually, he landed on the bed. The silken sheets were cool and a very different contrast against the heat of his plush ass. He loved the way that it felt like he was sitting on a cushy yet firm pillow everytime he sat down, having experienced it once from the motorcycle. He spread his legs, giving himself an unobstructed view of his new sex. It was beautiful, a perfect pink flower glistening with moisture. He watched as he slowly reached down, the journey of his hand feeling like it took an eternity. He parted the delicate folds with his fingers, the sensation sending another shiver through him. He was so wet, so ready. He found the small, sensitive bud of his clit, and when he touched it, he saw stars.
Slowly, he inserted one finger, then two. He took a deep breath, his fingers pumping in and out faster and faster. As he got more comfortable he added a third, then fourth. Soon he was loose and comfortable. His left hand reached up, squeezing his full breast as his knuckles slipped past his entrance. His vision filled with hot static as he gasped, the sound from his mouth was like an Angel's gasp. He tried a different angle, lifting his long leg up, while the other slid across the sheets then pumped his hand a bit faster, squeezing against his knuckles. Then it happened; a sudden, intense pressure bloomed in his core. It was like a dam breaking, a wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure that crashed over him, pulling him under.
He cried out, a high, keening sound that was half-sob, half-shout of triumph. His body convulsed, the muscles in his legs and stomach clenching as he rode out the orgasm, his fingers still buried deep inside him.
When the waves finally subsided, he was left panting, his body slick with sweat and other, more intimate fluids. He leaned against the cool silk sheets of the bed, the smooth surface a welcome anchor in the sea of sensation. He looked at himself, at the woman in the mirror. She looked thoroughly fucked, her hair a mess, her face flushed, her legs trembling. And she looked… happy. Genuinely, deeply happy in a way he hadn't felt in years. Maybe ever.
A slow smile spread across his face. He looked down at the discarded suit, then at the reflection of the incredible woman he'd become. He picked up the thong, bringing it to his nose and inhaling deeply. The scent was intoxicating, a potent mix of his new arousal and something uniquely Carmen.
But he wasn't done, he hadn't even begun to use her powers. His arms stretched, coiling like snakes around his breasts, the pressure made his back arch.
"Mmmphf..."
Then they went further, moving down, around his sides and started to play with his pussy from behind. Then he stretched his neck, lowering his head to his perked and swollen nipple, sucking it into his mouth. He moaned against his own skin, the vibrations sending another jolt of pleasure through him. He could taste the salt of his sweat, the subtle sweetness of his skin. He was a closed loop of sensation, a self-contained universe of pleasure. He spent the next hour like this, exploring every inch of his new form with a hunger that bordered on desperation. He stretched and contorted, testing the limits of this incredible body, mapping every erogenous zone, cataloging every gasp and shiver. He discovered that if he stretched his torso just right, the tension in his core would build to an almost unbearable peak, and a single, well-placed touch would send him over the edge into another shuddering orgasm.
The finalé began when he pulled his rounded hips and firm buttocks up to his face. His pussy, quivering and dripping with copious amounts of fluid, sat in front of his own face. The scent was sweet, musky, and entirely too enticing. His tongue darted out and a full-body shudder crawled up his spine and straight to his brain. The sensation was unlike any other, even through all the orgasms. He could feel the slick folds on his tongue, the hard nub of his clit against the tip. He could taste himself, and it was divine. He ate himself out with a fervor he hadn't known he possessed, his tongue lapping and probing, his nose buried in the folds of his own sex.
He sucked in the lips of his labia, hot breath running over his hole and clit. His legs shook and tightened around his head, acting like a pillow.
He felt like he was melting, his mind going blank with pleasure. His body was a symphony of sensation, and he was the conductor, the orchestra, and the audience all at once. His cock would never have been able to compare, he thought to himself as he ate himself out. When the final, most intense orgasm of the night finally ripped through him, it was a white-hot nova of sensation that left him boneless and panting on the floor, a tangle of limbs and sweat and satisfaction. He lay there for a long time, just breathing, the cool air of the room caressing his sensitized skin. He felt... complete. Whole in a way he never had in his own skin. He'd spent his entire life feeling like an outsider, a ghost in his own life. But here, in this body, he felt like he finally belonged.
Eventually, he pushed himself up, his muscles protesting in the most delicious way. He caught his reflection in the floor-to-ceiling window, the city lights glittering behind him. The woman in the glass looked wild, untamed. Her hair was a mess, her lips were swollen, her eyes were dark with a satisfaction that was almost predatory. He smiled, a slow, lazy grin that was all Kyle and all Carmen at the same time. This is not how he had imagined this night to go, lest of all a night in Elasti-Woman's bed. He laid there and finally decided. He couldn't go back to his own body. Not only did this body feel so much better but it had everything he ever desired. And now the world would know this new Elasti-Woman.
However, when an old friend contacts him to steal a priceless artifact together, Kyle decides to turn back to his old ways.
Things quickly go wrong during the score, which results in him unexpectedly swapping bodies with the city's number 1 superheroine. He knows the right thing to do would be to figure out a way to swap them back, but that idea becomes increasingly difficult when he finds out just the kind of life and pleasure her body truly has to offer him.
Kyle learned early that luck was a finite resource, and whatever share he'd been allotted had been spent before he turned sixteen. He grew up in a neighborhood where police sirens were background noise and everyone knew which streets to avoid after dark - dangerous and belonging to someone. Trouble wasn't something you sought out there. It found you, it waited, and if you didn't learn fast enough, it took what it wanted.
Kyle hadn't learned fast enough. By the time he was seventeen, he'd been arrested twice - one for running lookout, once for possession he swore wasn't his. The judge hadn't cared. The system rarely did. He'd done his time in juvenile detention, learned how to keep his head down, how to read people, how to pick locks with nothing but patience and a bent piece of metal. Skills that weren't exactly résumé-friendly. Now, at twenty-eight, he stood behind a coffee counter that smelled perpetually burnt no matter how often he cleaned it and wearing a stained apron with a name tag that felt like a lie. 'Kyle.'
The bell above the café door chimed, and another customer stepped up, already frowning.
"Large oat milk latte. Extra hot. and make sure it's not bitter this time."
Kyle forced a smile.
"Sure thing."
Behind him, one of his coworkers leaned against the prep counter scrolling through their phone. His supervisor - who showed up late every shift and still somehow found the time to criticize - hovered nearby, arms crossed.
"Try not to mess it up," she muttered. "We've had complaints."
Kyle bit back the response that came to mind, he always did - Rent didn't care about pride.
When the café slowed down - mid-afternoon lull and the sunlight slanted through the windows - Kyle leaned against the counter and let his thoughts drift upward. Literally. A massive digital billboard across the street flickered with life, displaying the familiar image: Elasti-Woman, mid-leap, limbs extended impossibly as she saved a collapsing monorail car. The city's favorite heroine. Strong, confident, sexy and smiling like she belonged exactly where she stood.
Kyle watched, transfixed. She was tall, 6ft with shoulder length brown hair, blue eyes, a model-like face, and a curvaceous, athletic build that Kyle absolutely adored. Every time he thought of her, he caught himself in daydreams. She made it look effortless. Being admired, being needed. Being someone.
He imagined it sometimes - what it would feel like to be that. To matter. To have people look at you with awe instead of suspicion. To have power instead of apologies. And, he also fantasized about her. He wasn't blind, or dead. The thought of someone like Elasti-Woman even glancing his way - let along sharing a night with him - was ridiculous. He knew that. He wasn't delusional but that still didn't stop his chest from tightening every time she smiled. Reality snapped back when his supervisor cleared her throat sharply.
"Kyle. Table three's been waiting."
He nodded, moved, served, and apologized for things that weren't his fault.
That night, as he trudged back to his apartment, his phone buzzed. Unknown number. He almost ignored it, almost.
"Yeah?" he said into the device, keys jingling around his finger.
There was a pause. Then a familiar voice, rougher than he remembered, but unmistakable.
"Damn, man. You still answer like you're expecting trouble."
Kyle stopped fiddling with his keys, stopping dead in his tracks.
"Evan?"
"Still alive," The man replied, laughing. "Mostly. Heard you got out clean."
"Clean enough," Kyle said cautiously. "How'd you get this number?"
He didn't know Evan too well. But they did get into trouble with each other a few times.
"Mutual acquaintance. Relax. I'm not calling to drag you into anything."
Somehow, Kyle didn't believe that and snorted in response.
"That's new."
They talked, caught up as much as they could, shared stories that carefully avoided their worst years. Evan had bounced around - inside, outside, always skirting the edge. Eventually, Kyle sighed and realized - he wanted something.
"Alright," he said. "You didn't call me just to reminisce. I know that, but that's as much as I do know."
Evan hesitated, a little too long.
"There's a job," he explained. "Easy one. Museum slash pawn shop. I'm working security nights. They just got this artifact - private collection. Worth millions if you know the right people."
Kyle's stomach sank. "No," he said immediately. "Besides, what type of museum also runs a pawn shop? That doesn't make sense."
"Heard the guy's shady. Runs it for tax evasion or some shit," Evan dismissed his concerns and then continued. "Just one night. In and out. I'll give you the layout, the security codes. You're better with locks than me."
It was true. Kyle was better.
He knew how to read the tension in a tumbler, to feel the give of a pin. It was almost instinct.
"You know how I live," Evan pressed, "A few days. Just this."
"No," Kyle repeated. "I'm done. I like my freedom."
Evan pushed and joked, promised it was clean. That there would be no heat and no alarms.
"Come on. Besides, what dead end job do you have that can actually support you?" Evan's question struck a nerve. "I've seen you. You're good. You're wasting your talent."
Kyle could almost see the artifact. He could imagine it sitting in a velvet-lined box, protected by glass. For a few hours of risk, it'd be enough to move out of his apartment, maybe go somewhere new and actually start fresh. To pay for a night with someone like her - no. He shut that down immediately.
"I... I can't, Evan. I'm sorry." The silence on the other end stretched, heavy and disappointed. Kyle pictured Evan's face - jaw tight, eyes already turning inward, and recalculating.
"Alright," Evan said at last. "your call." The line then went dead.
Kyle stood there on the sidewalk for a long moment, the city humming around him like static. When he finally unlocked his apartment and stepped inside, the door shut with a soft click that felt louder than it should have.
The place smelled faintly of cheap detergent and he stared at the crumbling wallpaper stained yellow with old cigarette smoke. He learned the back of his head against the door and sighed. Freedom, Evan had said. What freedom was this?
Kyle huffed a quiet, humorless laugh and crossed the apartment. This wasn't freedom, this was a holding cell. A cage built out of rent, reputation, and the kind of mistakes that never quite stopped following you. That night passed, then another.
The next few days were uneventful in the most exhausting way possible - early mornings, bitter coffee, aching feet, incompetent bosses and coworkers. The call faded, dulled by routine. Kyle told himself that was it. That Evan had taken the no and moved on.
Nearly a week later, his phone buzzed while he was sitting alone in his apartment, half-watching a muted news segment about another villain sighting downtown. Evan again. Kyle frowned at the name, thumb hovering over the screen.
For a minute, he considered ignoring it, letting it go to voicemail and letting the past stay where it belonged. But curiosity got the better of him and he swiped it open where an image filled the display.
An exquisite silver chain dripped with the light of a thousand tiny rose-cut gems, their soft blush catching the light with every subtle movement. Suspended from this delicate chain is a magnificent centerpiece: a single, flawlessly faceted pink diamond, cut so deeply that its heart seems to pulse with a captured sunset and refused to let go. It didn't look fake, it looked important.
"This is it," Evan's message followed. "They think it's worthless. Owner's a drunk. Barely remembers it's there. You know this is your way out. This is something that can support you."
Kyle stared at the photo longer than he meant to - Until the edges blurred and the necklace dissolved into color and light, and something else took its place in his mind - a familiar figured stretched across the skyline, confident and untouchable. Elasti-Woman, smiling like the city belonged to her. Kyle locked his phone and set it face-down on the table.
Later that night, the temperature dropped, the chill creeping in through the thin walls. He went to his closet to grab a hoodie - nothing dramatic, something he did a thousand times before. He pulled one free and something heavier shifted on the shelf above.
A pair of gloves slid into view, worn, thin and familiar. He hadn't touched them in years. Kyle picked them up slowly, turning them over in his hands. The leather was cracked and softened by years of use. They fit perfectly still when he slipped them on - muscle memory kicking in before he could stop it. He should have thrown them out, years ago. He knew that. Told himself that he kept them because they were useful. Because you never knew when you might need them for something harmless. A stuck lock, a broken latch, pulling weeds... 'Just in case'. He took them off and set them back on the shelf, heart beating faster than it should have, then shut the closet door. He remembered the days of picking locks with them helping keep a steady hand.
The days rolled on - Coffee, complaints, the same tired routine. Kyle almost convinced himself the call had been a lapse - an old ghost rattling chains that didn't exist anymore. At least that was what it appeared as, Evan didn't push at first. Just checked in. Casual messages. An old joke he shared with Kyle and one other in the past. Then, every few days, another reminder slipped in. A comment about rising prices. A nudge about people he knew who'd 'made it out.' About how unfair it was that some people got powers and others got scraps. Once, late at night while Kyle laid in bed, another photo appeared - the necklace again and closer this time. The pink diamond caught the light differently, deeper, warmer. For a second, Kyle swore it looked like it was glowing.
He turned his phone face-down on his chest and went to bed, staring at the ceiling until morning. And then frustration did the rest - the café, the bills, the way his supervisor talked to him like he was disposable. The way customers smiled politely until they stepped away and the way the city celebrated its heroes and forgot everyone else existed. By the time he finally picked up his phone, his hands were steady. He typed one word.
"When?"
Two days later, Kyle and Evan found themselves standing before the building Evan had described. It was a strange place: half museum, half pawn shop. The sign above the entrance, written in faded gold lettering, read: The Reliquary & Loan.
The front windows displayed a jumble of antique weapons and dusty paintings, while just beyond them, in a more curated space, sat a collection of pristine artifacts under bright spotlights. The place felt... liminal. Not quite legitimate, not quite criminal. At night, the building seemed to loom taller than he remembered when they did the daytime walk-by Evan had insisted was 'all the recon they'd need.'
The outside itself was marble façade with reinforced glass for the antiques. It seemed too clean or well-lit for something that supposedly blended museum curation with pawnshop discretion. Private collection acquisitions always meant money, and money meant security. Kyle adjusted the thin gloves on his hands and exhaled slowly through his nose.
"Tell me again," he murmured, "Why the service entrance doesn't have a guard?"
Evan, crouched beside a side door and working far too confidently on a tablet that looked older than Kyle's phone shrugged.
"Because they cut costs. Owner's cheap."
Kyle didn't like that answer. He liked them to be specific - Names, timetables.
Still, the door opened cleanly under his picks, the lock giving way with a familiar, almost comforting click. For a moment, muscle memory carried him - same old dance, same steady hands.
The rush crept in anyway, uninvited. Inside, the air smelled like polish from one of those machines, freshly scrubbed of all the dirt, and the air was almost stuffy - like it was still. The floor plan Evan had given him flashed in Kyle's mind as they moved - but almost immediately, it didn't match.
Display cases sat where corridors were supposed to be. A security camera tracked lazily across a hall that should have been blind. Kyle, thankfully, stopped short and grabbed Evan's sleeve. "That camera wasn't on your map. I thought you said you fucking worked here before?!" he whispered sharply.
Evan, for the first time, looked nervous.
"They... must have updated. It's fine. It's on a loop. I saw the log myself." The excuse was thin. Too thin. But they were already inside. Backing out now felt like a bigger risk than pushing forward. Kyle hated that about himself - how easily sunk costs turned into forward momentum.
The deeper they went, the quieter Evan got. And Kyle led. He always did. But he knew how to read spaces - how sound carried, where footsteps echoed too long, how security sensors felt even when you couldn't see them.
He spotted slightly raised plates just before stepping on them, freezing, and then carefully stepping over. Evan didn't even notice until Kyle grabbed him again.
"Watch where you step," Kyle whispered. "Or this ends with both of us in cuffs."
Despite Kyle's skill, it was his partners that always let him down and it infuriated him.
"Relax," Evan muttered. "You're the pro, right?"
That only served to irk him more, none of this shit was supposed to be here. It was supposed to be easy.
The vault room sat lower than expected, tucked behind a reinforced exhibit wall disguised as a historical installation. This was the real test. Kyle knelt before the keypad, his fingers hovering over the numbers. Evan had given him the code. A sequence that supposedly cycled weekly.
"You're sure about this?" Kyle asked, his heart starting to thrum a heavy, anxious rhythm against his ribs.
"I'm sure," Evan said, though he wouldn't meet Kyle's gaze.
Kyle entered the code. The keypad beeped. ACCESS DENIED
Panic, cold and sharp, lanced through Kyle's chest. "You're an idiot," he seethed. "You gave me the wrong code."
"No, no, I... maybe I typed it wrong?" Evan stammered, fumbling with his tablet again.
"There's a master override. I just need to... Here, I got a new code. Let me enter it."
Evan moved closer, his fingers dancing across the panel, but again; ACCESS DENIED
This time the panel beeped, - just once - a warning. Kyle closed his eyes for half a second, unable to believe this.
"Move."
He knelt, rolling his eyes while pulling tools from his kit. The panel resisted him immediately - newer model, nested failsafes, the kind designed to punish impatience. Sweat prickled along his spine as he worked, fingers moving with slow, careful, practiced precision. Time stretched, every second felt loud and long. When the lock finally disengaged, Kyle nearly laughed in relief.
Inside, the safe stood under that cold white light.
It was already open - probably from the laziness of said owner, thinking that no one would even find the vault. And there it was, resting on a simple black velvet pad. The necklace. The chain was impossibly fine, the rose-cut gems glowing with a soft, internal warmth. The pink diamond at its center was huge. And it was beautiful, it shone like it wanted to be noticed.
Evan gasped, moving towards it.
"See? I told you."
But Kyle didn't move. He stood there, staring. This was it. The whole reason for this risky, half-assed plan. But something was wrong. The hairs on his arms were standing up. A low hum emanated from the necklace, almost imperceptible at the edges of his hearing. He took a step closer.
The closer he got, the more aware he became of it - it wasn't a sound, or a pull exactly, but a pressure - as if he was being hugged. His fingers hovered before touching it.
"Don't just stand there," Evan whispered. "Grab it!"
Kyle wrapped his hand around the chain. It was warm, like holding those hand-warming satchels in the dead of winter while snow drifted all around you. A shiver ran through him, sharp and inexplicable, and for a split second he thought he heard something - not words but a suggestion of a voice, distant and close at the same time. He wasn't sure if the necklace had some other attribute to it. But it certainly felt like it. Then all that focus drained away as soon as Evan swore loudly.
Kyle spun just in time to see Evan's foot catch on a cable that should not have been there. The alarm detonated, exploding outward with sound. Not just a single sound but layers - sirens, lights, automated voice warnings cascading through the building. Kyle's heart slammed into overdrive, the memories of being caught by police, time and time again flashing through his mind. "I told you to watch-!"
"I didn't see it!"
"Because you don't look!" He whispered pointedly.
Kyle swiped the necklace, the gems feeling warm in his palm as they began to run.
He took point again, cutting left where the shortest path should've been - but the corridor ended in a security gate slamming down inches from his face.
"Plan B!" Evan yelled.
"There was no fucking Plan B!"
Kyle's shoes skid as they doubled back, ducking through exhibits as emergency shutters began sealing rooms behind them, Kyle's lungs burned, grip tight around the pendant like it was the only solid thing left in the world. Halfway to the exit, Evan grabbed his arm.
"Give it to me," he shouted over the alarms. "I know a buyer-"
Kyle yanked free, spinning on him. "No. You don't touch it."
"What?! That wasn't the deal!"
"The deal didn't include you set off every alarm in the building!"
Evan's face hardened. "You think you can just take it?"
Kyle didn't answer. He didn't need to. They both knew the answer. If anyone could find a buyer, it was Kyle.
They started at each other for a moment too long - sirens screaming, lights flashing red - and in that moment they knew that they had to split up.
"Split up," Kyle ordered, "Now."
Evan hesitated, then cursed and bolted in the opposite direction. Outside, the streets were swarming with police but Kyle managed to slip past them and turned the corner at a dead run, nearly slamming straight into her. Elasti-Woman dropped from above and touched down lightly in front of him, boots barely making a sound against the pavement. She straightened with confidence, already between him and the street beyond. The glow of emergency lights reflected faintly off the red-and-silver of her suit.
"End of the line," She said, voice calm and practiced, unlike the police who would have been screaming at him to get down.
Kyle skidded to a halt, hands coming up automatically. His heart pounded so hard it made his vision pulse.
"You've got the wrong guy."
She tilted her head, clearly unconvinced.
"Funny. I hear that a lot."
Then she moved first. Her arm snapped forward, stretching impossibly, and Kyle barely managed to duck under it. He stumbled, boots slipping on loose gravel and the alley suddenly felt too narrow - like the walls were closing in. He bolted sideways as her leg elongated in a sweeping kick that cracked against brick where his head had been a second earlier. Kyle thought his best chance would be to get close, so he charged her. Her arm came out and he grabbed at her sleeve, trying to throw her off balance but she caught his wrist. For a moment they were tangled, both straining, both adjusting to the other's movement. Then the pendant slipped free from his jacket, it swung between them and they both instinctively - stupidly - reached for it. Kyle's fingers closed around the chain at the same moment hers did and then the world spun and bent.
Then Darkness swallowed him. When he came to, the first thing he registered was pain. A deep, echoing throb behind his eyes, like his skull had been rung like a bell. He groaned and tried to roll onto his side - and nearly overbalanced.
Something was wrong. His weight didn't sit where it should. His body felt... redistributed. His chest rose and fell more noticeably with each breath, warm pressure pulling differently against gravity.
A curtain of dark, brown hair brushed his jaw and neck, tickling skin that felt oversensitive, almost electric - a tingle of pleasure running through his spine. He blinked, vision swimming, and looked down as his breath caught.
The suit stretched over a shape that definitely had not been his moments ago. Breasts - unmistakable, solid, rising and falling with his labored breathing. Despite the tight suit, they jiggled almost unperceptively. His gloved hands looked narrower, wrists slimmer when he lifted them into view. A soft groan sounded beside him. Kyle turned his head - and froze.
His own body lay a few feet away, sprawled awkwardly against the alley wall. The ski mask tilted as his eyes fluttered open.
"What - what did you do?!"
His voice sounded scared and panic surged immediately, drowning out everything else. Sirens wailed closer and he reacted.
His arm snapped forward - and didn't stop. It stretched, the sensation bizarre and nauseating, like his bone had turned to rubber. His fist connected solidly with his own jaw and his old body crumpled. Kyle stared at his extended arm, then pulled it back. The limb snapped back into place as if it had never been three times his length. Police boots thundered closer and there was little time to process. Kyle played the part and acted as if he were Elasti-Woman. He wasn't sure how exactly he could mimic her movements or mannerisms but it seemed he played the part perfectly.
When the police finally cleared out and the street fell quiet, the silence hit him harder than the sirens had. He had pocketed the pendant and knew that his old body would only have a short stint in jail and that the police wouldn't believe that they've swapped bodies. She'd sound insane to them. His skin was alight as his suit hugged him in places his old clohes never had, stretching smoothly with the movement. A laugh slipped out of him before he could stop it - sharp, incredulous, almost hysterical.
"This is insane," he muttered, the voice startling him all over again.
When he brushed his knuckles against his neck, he felt the slide of loose hair, the faint scent of something clean and expensive. He loved it. He looked down again, the tight suit around his breasts poked out and it made him curious. His hands slid up his side before cupping the full breasts. He stood there, blushing to himself as he pinched the hard nubs between his index and thumb. Another jolt of electricity ran down his spine and he gasped slightly.
"Oh... I see," he said to himself.
This power was not only for fighting criminals. This was a power for himself. He had an idea, a risky one, but one that he had to do before he could think about a way to reverse the body swap. He had to see himself.
“I’ll fix it after this,” he told himself, though the words rang hollow even as he said them.
The thought of giving this back - of stepping out of this skin and returning to his old, invisible life - made something in his chest tighten uncomfortably. He pushed the feeling away, then something caught his eye. A motorcycle - hers. He approached it cautiously, heels clicking against the pavement. He expected no reaction but the moment he swung a leg over, the bike seemed to recognize him. Then he sat, feeling the plush skin of his ass press against the seat.
"Shit..." He muttered.
When the engine roared to life, the vibration traveled up through his legs and spine, through his crotch. The pleasure made him buckle over the handles. The GPS flared to life, a single destination already marked. Home. Kyle hesitated, hands tightening on the grips, then leaned forward and eased into the street, still feeling awkward - yet excited - in the stride of the world's most celebrated heroine.
The bike led him to the last place he expected. A luxurious mansion out in the countryside, set up-top a large hillside. At first, he was just going to park into the drive-way until the motorcycle lights lit up what looked like a normal cliff. A portion of the rock face shimmered, then slid silently away to reveal a dark opening. He guided the motorcycle inside, the rock closing behind him with a soft, decisive thud. The garage was vast. Cars, training equipment, and racks upon racks of weaponry he didn't have names for. In the center, a single white circle glowed on the floor. He dismounted, the bike's engine dying behind him as he stepped into the elevator. The doors closed, and the world dissolved into white light.
"Welcome home, Carmen." A robotic, almost AI-like voice echoed.
His eyes widened at the revelation, Carmen... Starr? His eyes darted down his body, his lips parted. It made sense after some thought. She was rich, prominent. She would have all the means to do something like this. But that also made his fist tighten, nails biting into his feminine hands.
Some people get all the luck... When they opened again, he was standing in her home. It wasn't what he expected. The entire back wall of the main room was a single pane of floor-to-ceiling glass, offering a breathtaking view of the city below, lights glittering like a fallen constellation. The rest was clean, minimalist, almost sterile - white walls, polished marble floors, furniture that looked more like art than something you'd actually sit on. It was a space for looking, not for living. It was beautiful, but it felt like a show home. He walked through it, footsteps echoing, feeling like an intruder in a museum dedicated to a person he was currently wearing. He wanted to find a mirror and he found one in the bedroom - a full-length slab of polished glass. When he had stepped out from the open living space and set foot into the bedroom, his heels sunk into the fine and soft carpet, giving him pause just for a moment. They no longer made a sound as he approached the large bed and mirror which shimmered with light next to the bathroom door. He honestly kind of liked the sound of heels against stone.
Elasti-Woman stared back at him from the mirror. Her face - his face - was flushed, a stray strand of brown hair clinging to her cheek. Those brilliant blue eyes, wide with a mixture of terror and something else he couldn't name yet, were fixed on him. He felt hot - both sweaty and aroused. He knew he had to see more. He licked his lips, tasting something slightly strawberry across those beautifully plump lips. He took a few steps in front of the mirror, watching the curves of his body. He raised both hands and pushed his chest out, he felt a little embarrassed but at the same time... he felt sexy. It felt worth it. A strange, tingling sensation began to grow in his core. It felt... different, compared to anything he's felt before. It felt warmer, hotter, and more... explosive.
He turned away from the mirror and || twirled to give a quick view of his new body from all angles, his head and body still buzzing with a strange new energy. The desire to see more - to feel more - was overwhelming. He had to take off the suit. His fingers fumbled at the hidden seam of her suit, the release catch resisting him for a moment before it gave way with a soft hiss. The material peeled away from his skin, clinging for a second before loosening its grip. The cool air of the room hit his bare shoulders, a stark, shocking contrast to the tight, warm embrace of the suit. He shivered, a reaction to the temperature and the sudden, jarring vulnerability. He slid the red and silver material down over his hips, letting it pool around them. The reflection was breathtaking. She was muscular, but not bulky. Athletic. The muscles in her arms and stomach were defined without being grotesque, her skin smooth and flawless. Her breasts were perfect. High and firm, topped with nipples that were currently hard. His skin shimmered with sweat, the scent was sweet and slightly tangy. "I'm... so sexy..." He muttered, "But... Carmen doesn't normally look like this. This body is much more full. The hair is longer than normal too."
As he looked down his body, he noticed that the suit was so tight that one could easily see a camel-toe and he snickered to himself. That was part of the reason why he felt so hot. He felt a bit more emboldened as he watched his sweaty skin in the mirror. Then he raised his arm and smelled underneath. He nearly gasped at how much it turned him on. He smelled incredible. He found himself craving more of this scent, more of this body, more of this feeling. He felt like he couldn't control himself. He didn't want to be some sort of gross pervert but... the temptation was too strong. His reflection watched as he raised a hand, the fingers slender and graceful. He hesitated, then slowly brought the hand to his breast, letting the pad of his thumb brush against the hard nipple. A soft gasp escaped his lips.
The pleasure was sharp, immediate, and so much more intense than he'd ever anticipated. He did it again, this time pinching the bud lightly, rolling it between his fingers. The jolt that shot through him was electric. He watched, transfixed, as the nipple hardened even more, a deep rose color against the pale skin of his breast. The other breast felt neglected, so he brought his other hand up to it, mirroring the motions. Soon, both breasts were being kneaded and teased, the twin points of pleasure sending waves of warmth down his body, coalescing in the pit of his stomach. He could feel a wetness growing between his legs, a slick heat that was both alien and utterly intoxicating.
He had to get out of this suit and pulled one of his legs free while balancing on the other, a black thong poked out, soaking wet and dripping with so much pussy-juice that it slid down his thighs. Kyle pulled at the elastic suit surrounding his hips,. He needed to see more. He needed to see everything that the masterpiece in the mirror had to offer. He kicked the soaked fabric away, leaving it lying on the carpetted floor like a discarded secret. Now, laid bare except for the heels, he fully examined her body and posture - how she stood up straight and tall despite large breasts, how her skin was a creamy and attractive shade, how her legs were smooth and long. Her thighs gapped but not too much, just to tease her camel-toe in her one-piece suit.
He lifted his breasts, seeing the sweat built up underneath. The cold air felt amazing against his skin, but he wanted to see some of his backside too. He turned, subconsciously further than any normal person could. The curve of his ass was amazing and he bounced up and down, laughing softly as the skin jiggled. His eyes traced down the black of the thong that slid between his butt-cheeks. He was getting too excited, and his breath hitched. Without much of a thought, his hand came up, out, and then smacked the jiggling flesh.
He made a sound half-way between a moan and a yelp, which surprised even himself. He liked the sting of the reddening skin though and that only made him more aroused.
He then slid a finger down across his stomach. It tickled in a way - but also elicited tingling sensations and a hitch of his breath as his fingers glided to the thong's fabric. The warmth emanated from it as he slowly pulled it down. His reflection was a study in contrasts: a powerful, athletic body flushed with arousal, a face that was both his and not his, contorted in a mask of pleasure and disbelief. He took a step back, then another - watching his reflection in the mirror until eventually, he landed on the bed. The silken sheets were cool and a very different contrast against the heat of his plush ass. He loved the way that it felt like he was sitting on a cushy yet firm pillow everytime he sat down, having experienced it once from the motorcycle. He spread his legs, giving himself an unobstructed view of his new sex. It was beautiful, a perfect pink flower glistening with moisture. He watched as he slowly reached down, the journey of his hand feeling like it took an eternity. He parted the delicate folds with his fingers, the sensation sending another shiver through him. He was so wet, so ready. He found the small, sensitive bud of his clit, and when he touched it, he saw stars.
Slowly, he inserted one finger, then two. He took a deep breath, his fingers pumping in and out faster and faster. As he got more comfortable he added a third, then fourth. Soon he was loose and comfortable. His left hand reached up, squeezing his full breast as his knuckles slipped past his entrance. His vision filled with hot static as he gasped, the sound from his mouth was like an Angel's gasp. He tried a different angle, lifting his long leg up, while the other slid across the sheets then pumped his hand a bit faster, squeezing against his knuckles. Then it happened; a sudden, intense pressure bloomed in his core. It was like a dam breaking, a wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure that crashed over him, pulling him under.
He cried out, a high, keening sound that was half-sob, half-shout of triumph. His body convulsed, the muscles in his legs and stomach clenching as he rode out the orgasm, his fingers still buried deep inside him.
When the waves finally subsided, he was left panting, his body slick with sweat and other, more intimate fluids. He leaned against the cool silk sheets of the bed, the smooth surface a welcome anchor in the sea of sensation. He looked at himself, at the woman in the mirror. She looked thoroughly fucked, her hair a mess, her face flushed, her legs trembling. And she looked… happy. Genuinely, deeply happy in a way he hadn't felt in years. Maybe ever.
A slow smile spread across his face. He looked down at the discarded suit, then at the reflection of the incredible woman he'd become. He picked up the thong, bringing it to his nose and inhaling deeply. The scent was intoxicating, a potent mix of his new arousal and something uniquely Carmen.
But he wasn't done, he hadn't even begun to use her powers. His arms stretched, coiling like snakes around his breasts, the pressure made his back arch.
"Mmmphf..."
Then they went further, moving down, around his sides and started to play with his pussy from behind. Then he stretched his neck, lowering his head to his perked and swollen nipple, sucking it into his mouth. He moaned against his own skin, the vibrations sending another jolt of pleasure through him. He could taste the salt of his sweat, the subtle sweetness of his skin. He was a closed loop of sensation, a self-contained universe of pleasure. He spent the next hour like this, exploring every inch of his new form with a hunger that bordered on desperation. He stretched and contorted, testing the limits of this incredible body, mapping every erogenous zone, cataloging every gasp and shiver. He discovered that if he stretched his torso just right, the tension in his core would build to an almost unbearable peak, and a single, well-placed touch would send him over the edge into another shuddering orgasm.
The finalé began when he pulled his rounded hips and firm buttocks up to his face. His pussy, quivering and dripping with copious amounts of fluid, sat in front of his own face. The scent was sweet, musky, and entirely too enticing. His tongue darted out and a full-body shudder crawled up his spine and straight to his brain. The sensation was unlike any other, even through all the orgasms. He could feel the slick folds on his tongue, the hard nub of his clit against the tip. He could taste himself, and it was divine. He ate himself out with a fervor he hadn't known he possessed, his tongue lapping and probing, his nose buried in the folds of his own sex.
He sucked in the lips of his labia, hot breath running over his hole and clit. His legs shook and tightened around his head, acting like a pillow.
He felt like he was melting, his mind going blank with pleasure. His body was a symphony of sensation, and he was the conductor, the orchestra, and the audience all at once. His cock would never have been able to compare, he thought to himself as he ate himself out. When the final, most intense orgasm of the night finally ripped through him, it was a white-hot nova of sensation that left him boneless and panting on the floor, a tangle of limbs and sweat and satisfaction. He lay there for a long time, just breathing, the cool air of the room caressing his sensitized skin. He felt... complete. Whole in a way he never had in his own skin. He'd spent his entire life feeling like an outsider, a ghost in his own life. But here, in this body, he felt like he finally belonged.
Eventually, he pushed himself up, his muscles protesting in the most delicious way. He caught his reflection in the floor-to-ceiling window, the city lights glittering behind him. The woman in the glass looked wild, untamed. Her hair was a mess, her lips were swollen, her eyes were dark with a satisfaction that was almost predatory. He smiled, a slow, lazy grin that was all Kyle and all Carmen at the same time. This is not how he had imagined this night to go, lest of all a night in Elasti-Woman's bed. He laid there and finally decided. He couldn't go back to his own body. Not only did this body feel so much better but it had everything he ever desired. And now the world would know this new Elasti-Woman.
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Sara walked down the hall as the kids ran past her, happy to be done for the day.
"See ya Monday, Mrs. Robinson!" called out Janie Smith as she walked past.
"Have a good weekend, Janie." Sara responded.
Sara saw Al Bentley, the science teacher, down the hall. She sighed to herself and walked toward him, conscious of the gentle sway and bounce of her very large breasts. He smiled as she approached. Al was a few years younger than her 31, and since the day he started teaching at the school had endlessly flirted with her. At first Sara was flattered, but she made it perfectly clear that she was happily married.
Al had been very persistent though. He always made comments about how nice she looked and paid her numerous compliments. Sara had at first gotten irritated at his come-ons but they were never so direct or crude that it could be considered harassment and eventually she just accepted and tolerated them. She had to admit that he was nice looking and sometimes she even found herself laughing and blushing at his words. Unfortunately that only seemed to encourage him.
"Hello, Sara. You certainly look nice this afternoon." he said with a smile and rather quickly looked ever her body.
"Thank you, Al. Its been a long day." she replied. She noticed his glance over her. He often seemed to be studying her like a lab rat.
"We have a three day weekend. Any plans?" he asked.
"No, John is out of town for two weeks and I'm just going to relax." she answered, "How about you?"
"Oh, I'm going to be involved with a project I've been working on for a long time. An experimental project" he answered.
"Really? What kind of experiment?" Sara asked. She had heard that Al was supposed to be close to genius as far as his intelligence. She couldn't help but wonder what sort of things he did in his spare time.
"Its rather complicated to explain. I've been developing a new type of computer intelligence, essentially a computer that can think!" he said.
"Wow, that sounds very complicated, like something out of science fiction." she said with a laugh and immediately regretted it.
His face darkened slightly.
"Its not science fiction. Its quite real. I believe that what I have created will change the world as we know it." Al stated somewhat melodramatically.
"OK, if you say so, Al."
He smiled. "Perhaps you would like to see my work, Sara? Perhaps you could even assist me?"
"How could I assist?" she asked.
"Its too difficult to explain here. It would be easier to show you. Would you be interested?"
"Well I guess I could take a look and maybe I could help." Sara said.
"Excellent, tonight would be perfect. I would need to get a few things ready for you. Why don't you come by at 8:00 and I'll show you what I've been working on."
Sara thought for a moment. She didn’t have anything to do with John out of town and it would be easy to get a sitter tonight.
"OK. I will. But I cant be out too late, Al. And remember, I'm just helping you. It's not a date. Understand?" she stated.
"Oh, of course Sara. You made your feelings clear long ago. I understand." Al said with a smile, "See you at 8:00 then?"
"Sure, I remember how to get to your house from the faculty meeting last spring. I'll see you later tonight." she said and walked on.
Al watched her walk away and smiled. He had much to do to get ready for Sara's visit tonight.
*
Sara looked at herself in the mirror. Even though she had no interest in Al, she still wanted to look nice. Her brown sweater was a bit snug around her large bust but the tease in her liked how she looked. "It won't hurt to keep Al on his toes." she thought with a smile. She grabbed her purse and the baby carrier and walked out to her car.
She dropped Traci off at the sitter's and told them she shouldn't be out too late. Mrs. Johnson told her not to worry. There had been occasions when Sara and John had stayed out late, but they knew Mrs. Johnson very well and trusted Traci with her overnight. "I'll call if I'm going to be late", Sara said as she walked out.
*
Al heard the doorbell ring and smiled. "Your right on time, Sara" he laughed. He opened the door and greeted her with a smile.
"I'm so glad you could make it, Sara." he said as his eyes roamed over her figure.
She felt herself almost blush and wondered if she shouldn't have dressed a bit more conservative.
"Well I didn't have any plans and what you said interested me. You really think you've discovered something that will change the world?" she asked.
"I think so, at least my little corner of it." he said and led her inside.
"Would you like something to drink? I have some coffee if you'd like?"
She smiled, "Yes that would be nice, thanks."
Sara watched him go into the kitchen and looked around the living room. Rows and rows of books on science, electricity and other topics filled the shelves. She saw that his desk was covered with papers and material from school. "At least I'm not the only one who seems to be buried in paperwork sometimes." she thought.
He walked back in with two large cups of coffee and handed her one.
"Thank you" she said and took a sip, "Hmmm...very good."
"Your welcome. Its my own...special blend. Come..let me show you my lab."
She grinned, "Your lab?"
"Yes, I remodeled my basement into a lab for my work. It's much better than I'd planned. I bought a lot of used equipment and converted it to better suit my purposes." he stated, "Let me show you."
She followed him downstairs and was surprised at what she saw. Al smiled at her reaction.
"Wow, Al, its very impressive." she exclaimed.
Sara looked around the large room. All sorts of electronics and computers lined the walls. A mass of wires and cables ran across the ceiling to the various machines.
"Didn't this cost you a lot of money?" she asked in wonder at the strange equipment.
"I accumulated a lot of it over the past few years. I started my research in college. It has gone from a mere hobby to I'll admit to an obsession." he said almost laughing.
She smiled. Sara looked over to one end of the room. It was concealed with a large curtain.
"And what’s behind curtain number one?" she asked.
He grinned. "I guess I wanted to be dramatic when I showed you what I have created."
"What do you do with all this strange equipment down here?" she asked and took another drink of her coffee.
"What I have been doing is genius, Sara!" he exclaimed, "I guarantee it will change our lives!"
"I have created a most remarkable computer. It can actually duplicate the functions of the human brain!"
Sara listened as she sipped her coffee. "I've read about computers like that, artificial intelligence they call it."
He smiled. "Yes but what I've created is much more advanced the other scientists have been working on."
"I am using nanites, tiny, microscopic machines that can form into remarkable advanced computer circuitry. Each is capable of artificial intelligence, but when integrated together, their power is incredible!
She listened not fully understanding what he said, but he didn't care.
"Much like the cells of your brain, these nanites can form a network, but also can integrate with the existing structure of a computer." he said excitedly as he watched Sara finish her coffee.
"I have used my nanites to create my powerful new computers and now I am ready to take my discovery to the next step!"
"The next step? What is the next step, Al?" she asked.
Sara put her hand to her head, she suddenly felt dizzy.
"The next step is to introduce my nanites into a human brain, your brain, Sara! I am going to transform your brain into a living computer!"
Her eyes widened and she took a step back. "What?! What are you talking about?"
He smiled, his drug was taking effect. "Once my nanites are finished with you, you will have a programmable, computerized brain! You are going to be my human robot!
Sara's eyes widened at his words. "No...you're mad!" she managed to cry out as the drug took hold. She gasped and collapsed into his arms.
"Mad? Perhaps Sara but you will soon not care if I'm mad or not!" he laughed and picked her up.
*
He picked up the unconscious teacher and carried her to a chair. Putting her down he walked the curtain and drew it back. He looked at what was behind it with a smile.
A large metal table, equipped with restraining straps stood surrounded by electronic equipment. At the side of the table hung a container with an IV tube attached. A long thin needle was at the end.
He walked back over, picked up Sara and carried her to the table. Laying her down on it he smiled and began to undress his human guinea pig. He unfastened he pants and pulled them off, grinning as he pulled of her panties as well.
Al pulled the sweater off her and gazed at her breasts. They were so large now, the object of his and many others fantasies. He remembered how much they had grown since she had been pregnant.
Pausing only for a moment, he unhooked the large, white bra she wore, pulled it from her and set her clothes aside. Al carefully strapped her wrists and ankles securely to the table. Stepping back he looked her over.
Sara lay there naked and restrained on the table. Her large breasts fell to her arms, her nipples erect in the cool air of his lab. Al wiped a disinfectant on her arm and inserted the needle. Satisfied he watched as the serum containing his nanites began to flow into her vein.
The blueish-green liquid contained millions of nanites and they started to flow through her body, awaiting the electricity that would activate their pre-programmed tasks.
Al went to his computer and double checked all his equipment. Everything was perfect, he only had to wait.
Thirty minutes later, Sara began to stir, awakening from the drug. She tried to move but found she couldn't.
"Oh...where am I?" she weakly asked.
"Welcome back, Sara. You're still in my lab of course." he said with a laugh.
She pulled against the straps and felt a pain in her arm. Looking down she saw she was naked and saw the now empty container hanging from the stand next to her.
"What...what have you done?" she cried in horror.
"The serum containing my nanites is now coursing through your body. Soon the nanites will be activated...to begin the changes. Your transformation into my human robot!" he exclaimed.
Everything came back to her and she struggled futilely against the straps. He watched as she struggled, her breasts jiggling and quivering from her movements.
"You cannot escape, Sara. I advise you to relax and accept what fate has decided for you." he laughed.
Al looked over his helpless subject and smiled, "Now for some necessary equipment, my dear."
She watched helplessly as he attached the electrodes to her wrists and ankles, cables led from them to the apparatus that hung over her.
"What are you doing?!!!" she cried.
"This procedure requires a great deal of electricity. With the nanites in your system, your body will now be able to conduct the voltage with ease. The electricity will be as natural to your body as the air you breathe.”
She watched in horror as he gently took hold of her erect right nipple and inserted a thin electrode into it. Sara gasped as she felt it enter her but without any pain. He hooked up her left breast as well, the wires running to the equipment above her.
"Your breasts are already quite large, Sara, but I think a few more inches couldn’t hurt." he laughed.
"Noooo...you're insane!" she cried and again struggled. Her breasts jiggled and the wires connecting them to the equipment swayed from her action.
Al ignored her and lifted up a strange looking helmet. "Soon Sara, anything I say will be perfectly reasonable to you. Once you have been reprogrammed, such offensive thoughts as that will be erased from your mind."
He placed the helmet on her head, ensuring that it was snug. Two metal electrodes attached to it were clamped firmly to her temples. Al proceeded to plug various wires and cable into the helmet, hooking it up to his computers. With a satisfied smile, he stepped back.
Sara looked up at him, a terrified expression on her face. He just smiled down at her. "Try not to resist the procedure, Sara. You can't fight technology!" he laughed.
"Nooo...please let me go, Al..."she cried, wondering what was going to happen to her.
"Just relax, Sara. Soon everything will be so much better." he said and walked to his computer.
Sara lay there, trembling in fear. Her eyes wide with panic, her heart racing. She heard switches being thrown and a humming sound filled the lab. The lights dimmed slightly as power was drained from them to the equipment that surrounded her.
"You will feel a powerful charge as the electrical voltage enters your body, but rest assured, Sara, it will not harm you in the slightest." he stated.
She braced herself and cried out as the current hit her. Sara's body stiffened in shock as the electricity surged into her. A low moan escaped her lips.
Al watched his monitors intently, their gauges and readouts measuring and recording the process.
"500 volts...600 volts..700 volts..." he called out to her as the current increased.
It felt like every cell in her body was pulsating with power. The electricity surged freely through her, charging her, preparing her. Sara could never imagine the intense sensation of the high voltage electricity blasting through her.
Al stood up and walked over to her. He smiled at the sight. Sara's body was vibrating, quivering from the current surging into her. Her eyes were wide, a stunned look on her face.
"What's...happening...to...me..?" she gasped.
"The electricity is increasing to the necessary level for nanite activation. It is almost there. Soon the hundreds of nanites now in your body will begin to make the changes that have been programmed into them." he said as he gazed down at her.
Sara hardly heard him, her mind and body consumed by the electrical charge. She could barely think, her thoughts seemed to be so distant, so empty. Electrical energy surged through her, rising and falling in her body, changing her.
He watched as the nanites began to work. A smile crossed his face as he gazed at her breasts, quivering and jiggling from the current surging into them. Al could see them slowly begin to grow. He had programmed the nanites to enlarge her breasts by 25% as well as increase her milk production. He licked his lips as he watched.
His eyes wandered up and down her body, watching as her figure became more toned, her muscles stronger. Though he couldn’t see it, he knew what changes were also occurring within Sara's brain. Al walked back over to his monitors and watched the 3-D model of her brain evolve.
Electrical circuitry was forming within it, the nanites constructing themselves into a powerful computer, integrated with her own brain. Sara's brain was being hardwired into a living computer, ready for the programming that he had designed.
After nearly an hour, the readouts told him that the nanites had completed their task. Her body was altered as he had programmed and her brain was now computerized. She was ready for the final phase of her robotization.
"Sara!" he called out.
She felt the pull of his voice and her consciousness tried to return. Her body felt so strange, different. A weight seemed to be pressing on her chest, yet she felt good, full of energy. The electricity, now at over 5,000 volts, felt so wonderful, natural...necessary.
"Sara, the nanites have completed the physical changes in your body and brain. You are now ready for reprogramming." he exclaimed
His voice seemed to echo in her ears, her mind. She was aware on one level what was happening but couldn't comprehend it.
"...changes complete...ready for reprogramming..." she mindlessly repeated.
He smiled at her response. "Yes, you are ready for reprogramming! You will soon think as I program you to think, do as I program you and obey me completely. You will become a human robot!"
"..ready for reprogramming...become a human robot...yes..."
With an evil grin, Al began entering the commands into his computer. A loud buzzing filled the air and his computer activated.
Sara stiffened and moaned as the computer entered her mind. She felt her thoughts return, fully conscious and aware of what was happening.
"..what..are...you...doing?.." she weakly cried out.
"You are being reprogrammed, Sara, becoming my human robot!"
She felt the programming, the computer in her thoughts.
"Relax...accept...relax...accept.." the words seemed to caress her mind, over and over, calming her. Sara felt the fear vanish, her thoughts seemed to be fade away. She tried to concentrate to think, but couldn't.
Thoughts began to enter her mind. Thoughts that weren't hers but seemed so to blend in with hers. Her mind couldn't concentrate, she couldn't think clearly.
'I'm being programmed...' she realized, 'He's programming my thoughts!'
The computer increased the flow of data, more programming surged into her mind. Sara tried to resist but she could no longer tell her own thoughts from the programming. They were becoming one.
She lay there, feeling the data pouring into her, becoming her. Understanding, accepting the programming...feeling herself changing...accepting the changes...wanting the changes...
Her mouth opened. "receiving programming...receiving programming..."
Sara's voice sounded distant, mechanical. Al smiled.
"Very good, Sara. Your mind has accepted the computer within your brain."
She sensed the computer increase the flow of data and eagerly opened her mind, letting it in, to take her, to control her, to transform her.
New thoughts raced through her mind, what to think, how to think....
'Receiving programming...Receiving programming...'
For 30 minutes the computer programmed her, informing her of her new life, creating a new identity within her, a human robot, a new individual.
Al watched the monitors and smiled as the final programming was downloaded. He walked up and let his eyes roam up and down her body, feasting on her enlarged breasts, her engorged nipples dripping milk as the electrodes inserted into them continued to charge her with electricity.
"Sara, listen to me!" he commanded.
Her eyes stared blankly up, gazing at the equipment above her.
"Yes.Al" she replied in a monotone, robotic voice.
"You are no longer, Sara Robinson!"
"I.am.no.longer.Sara.Robinson"
"You are no longer a human woman."
"I.am.no.longer.a.human.woman."
"I have transformed you."
"You.have.transformed.me."
"I have robotized you!"
"You.have.robotized.me."
"You are now a robot, a human robot!"
"I.am.now.a.human.robot."
"You are my female robot. Your purpose in life is to serve and obey me."
"I.am.your.female.robot.I.will.serve.and.obey.you.Al."
"I am your Master!"
"You.are.my.Master.Al.I.hear.and.I.obey.you.Master."
"Your name is now, Fembot. You are Sara Fembot."
"My.name.is.Sara.Fembot."
The computer activated her programming acceptance function. She began to repeat over and over her new programming.
"I.am.no.longer.Sara.Robinson. My.name.is.now.Sara.Fembot."
"I.am.no.longer.a.human.woman...
"I.have.been.transformed.into.a.human.robot...
"I.am.programmed.to.obey.Al.Bentley... Al.Bentley.is.my.master...
"I.hear.and.I.obey.his.commands... I.have.been.robotized...
"I.am.no.longer.a.human.woman... I.am.a.human.robot...
"I.am.no.longer.a.human.woman... I.am.a.human.robot...
"I.am.programmed.to.obey.Al.Bentley... I.am.Sara.Fembot...
"I.am.a.robot...I.am.Sara.Fembot... I.am.a.robot... I.am.a.robot...
"I.am.a.robot...
She repeated the commands that would now direct and control her new computerized brain.
Al smiled and shut off his machines. The procedure was complete. Sara Robinson was now his obedient human robot.
The loud hum of the electrical equipment died down as the power was shut off. The lights on the helmet Sara wore blinked a few more times and dimmed to nothing. Her eyes were closed. She lay there motionless, her enlarged bosom rising and falling as the newly created robot breathed.
Al began to unhook the equipment from her body, removing the helmet, unplugging the electrodes from her nipples. As he unstrapped her from the table his hands shook with excitement. Standing back he looked over his new creation.
"Sara Fembot, open your eyes." he commanded
Her eyes opened, she gazed vacantly at the ceiling.
"What is your name?"
"I.am.Sara.Fembot." she answered.
"Very good. Stand before me."
"Yes.Master."
Slowly, mechanically she rose from the table. Each movement processed by her computerized brain. Sara stood stiffly before Al, her new, larger breasts jutting towards him as if for inspection.
Al walked around her, inspecting her. He smiled at what he saw. Sara's body was more toned now, her skin seemed to glow with a younger appearance. He licked his lips as he stared at the milk droplets falling from her engorged nipples.
"You are perfect, Fembot. The perfect female robot." he declared.
"Yes.Master. I.am.the.perfect.female.robot."
He adjusted his pants. His erection was so insistent it was almost painful for him. He couldn't wait any longer and walked over to his computer console.
Sara stood there waiting. Her mind empty of all thoughts but obedience to her new master. She was aware of her enhanced body, the nanite alterations she had undergone. Her body felt wonderful, so full of energy, so perfectly robotic. The weight of her enlarged breasts was very noticeable. They felt so erotic, so powerful.
She was aware of who she was but it was a distant feeling. Her mind was focused on the present, on her master's commands, waiting to obey him. Everything else was irrelevant now. Sara Robinson was a distant memory. Sara Fembot was who she was now, a human robot ready to serve.
Al walked back over to her, holding a small device in his hand. He held it up for her to see.
"This is a remote control device, Fembot. It can activate your robotic programming when ever I desire. Some of these buttons I have already programmed to send various signals to your neural implants. I can also use it to speak directly to your mind when I choose." he stated.
She watched as he pointed the device at her and pressed a button. Sara felt a small tingling in her head and a charge of current surged throughout her body. The sexual arousal was instant and powerful. Her eyes widened, her back arched slightly as a wave of pleasure raced though her.
Al smiled at her reaction. "Now Fembot, Pleasure me!" he ordered.
"I.hear.and.I.obey."
Sara walked to her Master, her breasts bouncing and jiggling with each step. Milk steadily dripped from her nipples, her mammaries engorged and full. She reached up and kissed him. Her tongue met his as his passion and her programming joined. After a few moments she pulled back and dropped to her knees before him.
Quickly and efficiently her hands undid his pants, pulling them down to his ankles, his stiff cock sprang forth, ready for her attention. She licked her lips as her fingers wrapped around the long, hard shaft. Sara opened her mouth, took him in and began to suck.
Al moaned loudly as his new robot sucked on him. He set the remote down and gently caressed her as she serviced him. "I've been wanting this for so long..." he groaned.
Sara heard him but did not react. Her mind was focused on the task at hand, pleasuring her Master. With robotic precision she sucked, her hands squeezing and stroking the long shaft, her head pistoning back and forth on him. Her mouth was a tool of pleasure to be used for bringing her Master to orgasm.
Her tongue swirled around the swollen head in her mouth, deep throating him with the ease she now possessed. Sara felt it jerk and spasm in her mouth and a blast of cum spurted out. She quickly swallowed it down, her hand went to his balls and squeezed them as another and another blast of cum shot into her.
The robot sucked and swallowed as more cum filled her mouth. After nearly a minute the flood subsided. Sara squeezed and milked him, determined to get every last drop. Her belly was filled with his cum.
Finally she released the softening prick and stood up, licking the remainder from her lips, her assigned task complete.
Al grabbed a nearby chair and collapsed into it, panting heavily. He looked at Sara standing before him, ready and waiting for her next command. Gazing at her dripping nipples he called her to him.
His hands trembled as he began to squeeze and caress her breasts. Al lifted her right breast up and began to suckle. His robot's milk started to flow steadily from the nipple and he greedily drank it down. He suckled at both breasts for several minutes, relishing the taste he had so long desired.
Sara, though remaining still as he suckled, felt the powerful sensations from his mouth flow through her body like a charge of electrical arousal. The swollen feeling in her breasts subsided as her Master emptied her.
Al set her breasts back and looked up at his robot. "You are magnificent, Fembot. This is better than I had ever imagined!" he exclaimed.
He asked her about the plans she had. Sara answered his questions. Al ordered her to call her sitter and inform her that she would be unable to pick her daughter up until tomorrow morning. Sara did and Al smiled at her.
"Now that you're free from your responsibilities, Fembot, I can enjoy you all night." he said.
"Yes.Master."
Al took her hand and guided Sara up to his bedroom.
The next morning after some additional programming was installed in her brain, Al sent his new robot home. He knew she had a life that she must continue with despite his desire to have her to himself. He sat down at his computer and began to document everything that had happened. Al was always meticulous with his experiments, keeping track of all he did.
After picking up her daughter, Sara decided to she needed once again to get fitted for new bras. Her recent growth was perfectly natural, she believed. Al had programmed this into her and she remembered nothing about the previous night. As far as she knew she had seen her doctor and was told that there was nothing abnormal about her increase in size.
That afternoon after she got home, Sara went to her bedroom and looked over the items she had purchased. The new bras she'd bought were much larger than her old ones. She now needed a 40JJ bra to hold her 50" bust. The plain, white underwire bras weren't very pretty or sexy but it was what she wanted. “Strong...utilitarian” was what she told the sales lady who waited on her.
She had also purchased several plain dresses that had been tailored to her top heavy figure, the hemline raised to mid thigh, two white, one brown and one light blue. For some reason she wanted these rather plain dresses and she loved how she looked in them. Sara hadn't noticed the sales woman staring at her as she had tried them on. She was unaware that she had been standing at attention, her chest thrust out as she looked herself over in the mirrors.
With a smile she undressed and put on a new bra, appreciating how it lifted and supported her larger breasts. Sara picked up a white dress and put it on, tying the belt snug around her waist, accentuating the jut of her bosom. She moved stiffly, slightly mechanically but was not aware that she was doing so.
The phone rang and Sara went to answer it.
"Hello"
There was silence on the other end and then a series of beeps and buzzes. She stiffened and her face went blank, her eyes glazed over.
"Yes.Master."
Sara listened to the voice on the other end closely. After a few moments she nodded.
"I.hear.and.I.obey.you.Master.seven.o.clock.I.will.be.there."
She hung up the phone.
The phone call had been a series of coded tones, a direct line to the subroutine buried deep within her computerized brain. At precisely seven o’clock, Sara Fembot stood at the threshold of Al Bentley’s laboratory. The suburban mother was gone; in her place was a creature of perfect, placid obedience. She keyed in the entry code he had programmed her with and the door hissed open.
“Master,” she stated, stepping inside. Her voice was flat, a digital recording of human speech.
Al turned from his console, his eyes lighting up. “Fembot. You are punctual. Disrobe and put this on.” He gestured to a garment laid out on a clean worktable.
“Yes.Master.”
Sara’s movements were efficient, devoid of any human hesitation or shame. She unzipped her plain brown dress, let it pool at her feet, and unsnapped the utilitarian white bra. Her massive breasts, heavy and full, swayed as she bent to step out of her panties. Then she picked up the new garment. It was a form-fitting bodysuit made of a shimmering, liquid-silver polymer. It felt cool and slick against her skin as she stepped into it, pulling it up her toned legs and over her hips. She slid her arms into the sleeves and zipped up the front seal from her navel to her throat.
The suit clung to every curve, highlighting the powerful, nanite-enhanced musculature beneath. Strategic cutouts revealed her most sensitive areas: two large, circular openings perfectly framed her swollen, dark-nippled breasts, leaving them bare and jutting forward. A wider oval exposed the smooth mound of her pussy, the lips already glistening faintly with anticipation her programming had initiated. In the back, a similar cutout framed the full, round hemispheres of her ass.
“Inspect,” Al commanded.
Sara turned in a slow circle, her arms held slightly away from her body. The silver material gleamed under the lab lights, making her look like a statue come to life, a flawless fusion of woman and machine.
“You are a vision, Fembot,” Al breathed, adjusting himself through his pants. “Now. Demonstrate your primary pleasure function. Masturbate for your Master.”
“I.hear.and.I.obey.”
Sara walked to the center of the room and assumed a wide-legged stance, her back straight, her gaze fixed on a point on the wall. Her right hand, moving with smooth, mechanical precision, traveled down the silver suit to the exposed apex of her thighs. Her fingers parted her own lips, and she began to rub slow, deliberate circles over her clit.
“Oh. Yes. Master,” she moaned. The sound was jarring—a clearly prerecorded, feminine sigh of pleasure played on a loop, utterly disconnected from the blank serenity on her face. “Feels. So. Good.”
Yet her body betrayed a different story. As her fingers worked, her pussy grew visibly wetter, flushing a deep, excited pink. Her breath, though even, began to hitch in her chest. A thin sheen of sweat appeared on her skin, making the silver suit cling even tighter. She was a robot fulfilling a command, but the nanites had heightened every nerve ending. Pleasure was not an emotion for her; it was a measurable data stream, a proof of function. And her function was to be aroused for her Master’s use.
“Louder,” Al ordered, sitting in his chair to watch.
“Ah! Ah! Master!” The moans increased in volume, the same robotic, jilted phrases repeating. “This. Unit. Is. Ready. For. Use.”
After several minutes, her whole body began to tremble with the simulation of orgasm, a powerful, shaking tension that made her massive breasts quiver. A thin stream of her own juices trickled down her inner thigh. She went rigid, then still, her hand dropping back to her side.
“Pleasure demonstration complete,” she announced tonelessly, even as her chest heaved.
“Excellent,” Al said, standing and finally shedding his own clothes. His erection was fierce and demanding. “Now. You will interface. Cowgirl position. Optimize for Master’s climax.”
“Yes.Master.”
She moved to the reinforced medical table, now cleared of equipment. Al lay back on it, and Sara climbed atop him, straddling his hips. Her silver-clad knees pressed into the table on either side of him. With one hand she guided his cock to her exposed, dripping entrance. Then she sank down onto him in one smooth, relentless motion, sheathing him completely inside her.
“Commence ride protocol,” Al gasped.
Sara’s hips began to piston. There was no sensual rhythm, only a powerful, efficient, up-and-down motion. Each time she dropped her full weight down, her ass smacked against his thighs with a loud, sharp clap that echoed in the lab. The sound was percussive, brutal, and deeply erotic. Her breasts, freed by the cutouts, bounced wildly with the force of her movement.
“Talk,” Al grunted, his hands gripping her silver-covered hips. “Dirty talk subroutine. Activate.”
Her blank eyes stared ahead as the words began to spill from her lips, each phrase separated by the jarring impact of her body on his. “This. Body’s. Controlled. Pussy. Is. For. Your. Use. Master.”
Clap.
“Sara. Is. A. Mindless. Cum. Slut.”
Clap.
“Her. Holes. Are. Yours. To. Deposit. In.”
Clap.
“Please. Fill. This. Robot’s. Uterus. With. Your. Seed.”
Clap.
The crude, mechanical filth drove Al wild. He could feel his climax coiling, unstoppable. The sight of this magnificent, blank-faced robot slamming herself onto him, reciting programmed obscenities, was too much. “Fembot! Prepare for my load! Maximum receptivity!”
Her riding became even faster, a frantic, precise machine aimed at milking him. “Programming. Ready. For. Master’s. Load. This. Unit. Desires. Your. Cum.”
With a roar, Al climaxed. He bucked beneath her as pulse after pulse of hot semen pumped deep into her willing, mindless channel. Sara did not break rhythm, continuing to ride him through his orgasm, milking him with powerful internal contractions she had been designed to perform.
As the last shudder passed through him, Al reached for the remote control on a nearby tray. His finger found a new, glowing button. “Finalize sex bot programming. Activate permanent standby mode.”
He pressed it.
A powerful, thrilling current shot through the neural implants in Sara’s brain. Her movements finally stilled. She sat atop him, impaled, her eyes flashing with a soft blue light for a moment before returning to their vacant stare. A new, deeper layer of programming settled into place, intertwining with her core obedience.
“Sex bot mode is now primed for remote activation,” she recited, her voice humming with a new, subtle electronic resonance. “Standby engaged.”
Al gently pushed her off him. “Cleanup protocol. Then return to domestic programming.”
“Yes.Master.”
Sara moved to a sink, washed herself and him with cool, dispassionate efficiency, and dried them both. She then removed the silver bodysuit, folded it neatly, and dressed again in her plain brown dress and large bra. Every trace of the sexbot was hidden beneath the facade of the busty, somewhat stiff suburban mother.
“Return home. Deactivate conscious memory of this session. Await my signal,” Al instructed, pocketing the remote.
“I.hear.and.I.obey.Master.”
Sara Fembot walked out of the lab, got into her car, and drove home. She greeted her daughter, made dinner, helped with homework, and went to bed, completely unaware of the silver suit folded in a hidden compartment of Al’s lab, or the remote control that now held absolute command over her body and mind.
Al, back at his computer, smiled. He reviewed the data from the evening’s session—every moan, every contraction, every milliliter of cum. Perfect. Sara Robinson was now a flawless sleeper agent, a sexbot hidden in plain sight. He began drafting notes for his next move. The world was full of women who could be perfected. And he had just proven his technology worked.
Sara walked down the hall as the kids ran past her, happy to be done for the day.
"See ya Monday, Mrs. Robinson!" called out Janie Smith as she walked past.
"Have a good weekend, Janie." Sara responded.
Sara saw Al Bentley, the science teacher, down the hall. She sighed to herself and walked toward him, conscious of the gentle sway and bounce of her very large breasts. He smiled as she approached. Al was a few years younger than her 31, and since the day he started teaching at the school had endlessly flirted with her. At first Sara was flattered, but she made it perfectly clear that she was happily married.
Al had been very persistent though. He always made comments about how nice she looked and paid her numerous compliments. Sara had at first gotten irritated at his come-ons but they were never so direct or crude that it could be considered harassment and eventually she just accepted and tolerated them. She had to admit that he was nice looking and sometimes she even found herself laughing and blushing at his words. Unfortunately that only seemed to encourage him.
"Hello, Sara. You certainly look nice this afternoon." he said with a smile and rather quickly looked ever her body.
"Thank you, Al. Its been a long day." she replied. She noticed his glance over her. He often seemed to be studying her like a lab rat.
"We have a three day weekend. Any plans?" he asked.
"No, John is out of town for two weeks and I'm just going to relax." she answered, "How about you?"
"Oh, I'm going to be involved with a project I've been working on for a long time. An experimental project" he answered.
"Really? What kind of experiment?" Sara asked. She had heard that Al was supposed to be close to genius as far as his intelligence. She couldn't help but wonder what sort of things he did in his spare time.
"Its rather complicated to explain. I've been developing a new type of computer intelligence, essentially a computer that can think!" he said.
"Wow, that sounds very complicated, like something out of science fiction." she said with a laugh and immediately regretted it.
His face darkened slightly.
"Its not science fiction. Its quite real. I believe that what I have created will change the world as we know it." Al stated somewhat melodramatically.
"OK, if you say so, Al."
He smiled. "Perhaps you would like to see my work, Sara? Perhaps you could even assist me?"
"How could I assist?" she asked.
"Its too difficult to explain here. It would be easier to show you. Would you be interested?"
"Well I guess I could take a look and maybe I could help." Sara said.
"Excellent, tonight would be perfect. I would need to get a few things ready for you. Why don't you come by at 8:00 and I'll show you what I've been working on."
Sara thought for a moment. She didn’t have anything to do with John out of town and it would be easy to get a sitter tonight.
"OK. I will. But I cant be out too late, Al. And remember, I'm just helping you. It's not a date. Understand?" she stated.
"Oh, of course Sara. You made your feelings clear long ago. I understand." Al said with a smile, "See you at 8:00 then?"
"Sure, I remember how to get to your house from the faculty meeting last spring. I'll see you later tonight." she said and walked on.
Al watched her walk away and smiled. He had much to do to get ready for Sara's visit tonight.
*
Sara looked at herself in the mirror. Even though she had no interest in Al, she still wanted to look nice. Her brown sweater was a bit snug around her large bust but the tease in her liked how she looked. "It won't hurt to keep Al on his toes." she thought with a smile. She grabbed her purse and the baby carrier and walked out to her car.
She dropped Traci off at the sitter's and told them she shouldn't be out too late. Mrs. Johnson told her not to worry. There had been occasions when Sara and John had stayed out late, but they knew Mrs. Johnson very well and trusted Traci with her overnight. "I'll call if I'm going to be late", Sara said as she walked out.
*
Al heard the doorbell ring and smiled. "Your right on time, Sara" he laughed. He opened the door and greeted her with a smile.
"I'm so glad you could make it, Sara." he said as his eyes roamed over her figure.
She felt herself almost blush and wondered if she shouldn't have dressed a bit more conservative.
"Well I didn't have any plans and what you said interested me. You really think you've discovered something that will change the world?" she asked.
"I think so, at least my little corner of it." he said and led her inside.
"Would you like something to drink? I have some coffee if you'd like?"
She smiled, "Yes that would be nice, thanks."
Sara watched him go into the kitchen and looked around the living room. Rows and rows of books on science, electricity and other topics filled the shelves. She saw that his desk was covered with papers and material from school. "At least I'm not the only one who seems to be buried in paperwork sometimes." she thought.
He walked back in with two large cups of coffee and handed her one.
"Thank you" she said and took a sip, "Hmmm...very good."
"Your welcome. Its my own...special blend. Come..let me show you my lab."
She grinned, "Your lab?"
"Yes, I remodeled my basement into a lab for my work. It's much better than I'd planned. I bought a lot of used equipment and converted it to better suit my purposes." he stated, "Let me show you."
She followed him downstairs and was surprised at what she saw. Al smiled at her reaction.
"Wow, Al, its very impressive." she exclaimed.
Sara looked around the large room. All sorts of electronics and computers lined the walls. A mass of wires and cables ran across the ceiling to the various machines.
"Didn't this cost you a lot of money?" she asked in wonder at the strange equipment.
"I accumulated a lot of it over the past few years. I started my research in college. It has gone from a mere hobby to I'll admit to an obsession." he said almost laughing.
She smiled. Sara looked over to one end of the room. It was concealed with a large curtain.
"And what’s behind curtain number one?" she asked.
He grinned. "I guess I wanted to be dramatic when I showed you what I have created."
"What do you do with all this strange equipment down here?" she asked and took another drink of her coffee.
"What I have been doing is genius, Sara!" he exclaimed, "I guarantee it will change our lives!"
"I have created a most remarkable computer. It can actually duplicate the functions of the human brain!"
Sara listened as she sipped her coffee. "I've read about computers like that, artificial intelligence they call it."
He smiled. "Yes but what I've created is much more advanced the other scientists have been working on."
"I am using nanites, tiny, microscopic machines that can form into remarkable advanced computer circuitry. Each is capable of artificial intelligence, but when integrated together, their power is incredible!
She listened not fully understanding what he said, but he didn't care.
"Much like the cells of your brain, these nanites can form a network, but also can integrate with the existing structure of a computer." he said excitedly as he watched Sara finish her coffee.
"I have used my nanites to create my powerful new computers and now I am ready to take my discovery to the next step!"
"The next step? What is the next step, Al?" she asked.
Sara put her hand to her head, she suddenly felt dizzy.
"The next step is to introduce my nanites into a human brain, your brain, Sara! I am going to transform your brain into a living computer!"
Her eyes widened and she took a step back. "What?! What are you talking about?"
He smiled, his drug was taking effect. "Once my nanites are finished with you, you will have a programmable, computerized brain! You are going to be my human robot!
Sara's eyes widened at his words. "No...you're mad!" she managed to cry out as the drug took hold. She gasped and collapsed into his arms.
"Mad? Perhaps Sara but you will soon not care if I'm mad or not!" he laughed and picked her up.
*
He picked up the unconscious teacher and carried her to a chair. Putting her down he walked the curtain and drew it back. He looked at what was behind it with a smile.
A large metal table, equipped with restraining straps stood surrounded by electronic equipment. At the side of the table hung a container with an IV tube attached. A long thin needle was at the end.
He walked back over, picked up Sara and carried her to the table. Laying her down on it he smiled and began to undress his human guinea pig. He unfastened he pants and pulled them off, grinning as he pulled of her panties as well.
Al pulled the sweater off her and gazed at her breasts. They were so large now, the object of his and many others fantasies. He remembered how much they had grown since she had been pregnant.
Pausing only for a moment, he unhooked the large, white bra she wore, pulled it from her and set her clothes aside. Al carefully strapped her wrists and ankles securely to the table. Stepping back he looked her over.
Sara lay there naked and restrained on the table. Her large breasts fell to her arms, her nipples erect in the cool air of his lab. Al wiped a disinfectant on her arm and inserted the needle. Satisfied he watched as the serum containing his nanites began to flow into her vein.
The blueish-green liquid contained millions of nanites and they started to flow through her body, awaiting the electricity that would activate their pre-programmed tasks.
Al went to his computer and double checked all his equipment. Everything was perfect, he only had to wait.
Thirty minutes later, Sara began to stir, awakening from the drug. She tried to move but found she couldn't.
"Oh...where am I?" she weakly asked.
"Welcome back, Sara. You're still in my lab of course." he said with a laugh.
She pulled against the straps and felt a pain in her arm. Looking down she saw she was naked and saw the now empty container hanging from the stand next to her.
"What...what have you done?" she cried in horror.
"The serum containing my nanites is now coursing through your body. Soon the nanites will be activated...to begin the changes. Your transformation into my human robot!" he exclaimed.
Everything came back to her and she struggled futilely against the straps. He watched as she struggled, her breasts jiggling and quivering from her movements.
"You cannot escape, Sara. I advise you to relax and accept what fate has decided for you." he laughed.
Al looked over his helpless subject and smiled, "Now for some necessary equipment, my dear."
She watched helplessly as he attached the electrodes to her wrists and ankles, cables led from them to the apparatus that hung over her.
"What are you doing?!!!" she cried.
"This procedure requires a great deal of electricity. With the nanites in your system, your body will now be able to conduct the voltage with ease. The electricity will be as natural to your body as the air you breathe.”
She watched in horror as he gently took hold of her erect right nipple and inserted a thin electrode into it. Sara gasped as she felt it enter her but without any pain. He hooked up her left breast as well, the wires running to the equipment above her.
"Your breasts are already quite large, Sara, but I think a few more inches couldn’t hurt." he laughed.
"Noooo...you're insane!" she cried and again struggled. Her breasts jiggled and the wires connecting them to the equipment swayed from her action.
Al ignored her and lifted up a strange looking helmet. "Soon Sara, anything I say will be perfectly reasonable to you. Once you have been reprogrammed, such offensive thoughts as that will be erased from your mind."
He placed the helmet on her head, ensuring that it was snug. Two metal electrodes attached to it were clamped firmly to her temples. Al proceeded to plug various wires and cable into the helmet, hooking it up to his computers. With a satisfied smile, he stepped back.
Sara looked up at him, a terrified expression on her face. He just smiled down at her. "Try not to resist the procedure, Sara. You can't fight technology!" he laughed.
"Nooo...please let me go, Al..."she cried, wondering what was going to happen to her.
"Just relax, Sara. Soon everything will be so much better." he said and walked to his computer.
Sara lay there, trembling in fear. Her eyes wide with panic, her heart racing. She heard switches being thrown and a humming sound filled the lab. The lights dimmed slightly as power was drained from them to the equipment that surrounded her.
"You will feel a powerful charge as the electrical voltage enters your body, but rest assured, Sara, it will not harm you in the slightest." he stated.
She braced herself and cried out as the current hit her. Sara's body stiffened in shock as the electricity surged into her. A low moan escaped her lips.
Al watched his monitors intently, their gauges and readouts measuring and recording the process.
"500 volts...600 volts..700 volts..." he called out to her as the current increased.
It felt like every cell in her body was pulsating with power. The electricity surged freely through her, charging her, preparing her. Sara could never imagine the intense sensation of the high voltage electricity blasting through her.
Al stood up and walked over to her. He smiled at the sight. Sara's body was vibrating, quivering from the current surging into her. Her eyes were wide, a stunned look on her face.
"What's...happening...to...me..?" she gasped.
"The electricity is increasing to the necessary level for nanite activation. It is almost there. Soon the hundreds of nanites now in your body will begin to make the changes that have been programmed into them." he said as he gazed down at her.
Sara hardly heard him, her mind and body consumed by the electrical charge. She could barely think, her thoughts seemed to be so distant, so empty. Electrical energy surged through her, rising and falling in her body, changing her.
He watched as the nanites began to work. A smile crossed his face as he gazed at her breasts, quivering and jiggling from the current surging into them. Al could see them slowly begin to grow. He had programmed the nanites to enlarge her breasts by 25% as well as increase her milk production. He licked his lips as he watched.
His eyes wandered up and down her body, watching as her figure became more toned, her muscles stronger. Though he couldn’t see it, he knew what changes were also occurring within Sara's brain. Al walked back over to his monitors and watched the 3-D model of her brain evolve.
Electrical circuitry was forming within it, the nanites constructing themselves into a powerful computer, integrated with her own brain. Sara's brain was being hardwired into a living computer, ready for the programming that he had designed.
After nearly an hour, the readouts told him that the nanites had completed their task. Her body was altered as he had programmed and her brain was now computerized. She was ready for the final phase of her robotization.
"Sara!" he called out.
She felt the pull of his voice and her consciousness tried to return. Her body felt so strange, different. A weight seemed to be pressing on her chest, yet she felt good, full of energy. The electricity, now at over 5,000 volts, felt so wonderful, natural...necessary.
"Sara, the nanites have completed the physical changes in your body and brain. You are now ready for reprogramming." he exclaimed
His voice seemed to echo in her ears, her mind. She was aware on one level what was happening but couldn't comprehend it.
"...changes complete...ready for reprogramming..." she mindlessly repeated.
He smiled at her response. "Yes, you are ready for reprogramming! You will soon think as I program you to think, do as I program you and obey me completely. You will become a human robot!"
"..ready for reprogramming...become a human robot...yes..."
With an evil grin, Al began entering the commands into his computer. A loud buzzing filled the air and his computer activated.
Sara stiffened and moaned as the computer entered her mind. She felt her thoughts return, fully conscious and aware of what was happening.
"..what..are...you...doing?.." she weakly cried out.
"You are being reprogrammed, Sara, becoming my human robot!"
She felt the programming, the computer in her thoughts.
"Relax...accept...relax...accept.." the words seemed to caress her mind, over and over, calming her. Sara felt the fear vanish, her thoughts seemed to be fade away. She tried to concentrate to think, but couldn't.
Thoughts began to enter her mind. Thoughts that weren't hers but seemed so to blend in with hers. Her mind couldn't concentrate, she couldn't think clearly.
'I'm being programmed...' she realized, 'He's programming my thoughts!'
The computer increased the flow of data, more programming surged into her mind. Sara tried to resist but she could no longer tell her own thoughts from the programming. They were becoming one.
She lay there, feeling the data pouring into her, becoming her. Understanding, accepting the programming...feeling herself changing...accepting the changes...wanting the changes...
Her mouth opened. "receiving programming...receiving programming..."
Sara's voice sounded distant, mechanical. Al smiled.
"Very good, Sara. Your mind has accepted the computer within your brain."
She sensed the computer increase the flow of data and eagerly opened her mind, letting it in, to take her, to control her, to transform her.
New thoughts raced through her mind, what to think, how to think....
'Receiving programming...Receiving programming...'
For 30 minutes the computer programmed her, informing her of her new life, creating a new identity within her, a human robot, a new individual.
Al watched the monitors and smiled as the final programming was downloaded. He walked up and let his eyes roam up and down her body, feasting on her enlarged breasts, her engorged nipples dripping milk as the electrodes inserted into them continued to charge her with electricity.
"Sara, listen to me!" he commanded.
Her eyes stared blankly up, gazing at the equipment above her.
"Yes.Al" she replied in a monotone, robotic voice.
"You are no longer, Sara Robinson!"
"I.am.no.longer.Sara.Robinson"
"You are no longer a human woman."
"I.am.no.longer.a.human.woman."
"I have transformed you."
"You.have.transformed.me."
"I have robotized you!"
"You.have.robotized.me."
"You are now a robot, a human robot!"
"I.am.now.a.human.robot."
"You are my female robot. Your purpose in life is to serve and obey me."
"I.am.your.female.robot.I.will.serve.and.obey.you.Al."
"I am your Master!"
"You.are.my.Master.Al.I.hear.and.I.obey.you.Master."
"Your name is now, Fembot. You are Sara Fembot."
"My.name.is.Sara.Fembot."
The computer activated her programming acceptance function. She began to repeat over and over her new programming.
"I.am.no.longer.Sara.Robinson. My.name.is.now.Sara.Fembot."
"I.am.no.longer.a.human.woman...
"I.have.been.transformed.into.a.human.robot...
"I.am.programmed.to.obey.Al.Bentley... Al.Bentley.is.my.master...
"I.hear.and.I.obey.his.commands... I.have.been.robotized...
"I.am.no.longer.a.human.woman... I.am.a.human.robot...
"I.am.no.longer.a.human.woman... I.am.a.human.robot...
"I.am.programmed.to.obey.Al.Bentley... I.am.Sara.Fembot...
"I.am.a.robot...I.am.Sara.Fembot... I.am.a.robot... I.am.a.robot...
"I.am.a.robot...
She repeated the commands that would now direct and control her new computerized brain.
Al smiled and shut off his machines. The procedure was complete. Sara Robinson was now his obedient human robot.
The loud hum of the electrical equipment died down as the power was shut off. The lights on the helmet Sara wore blinked a few more times and dimmed to nothing. Her eyes were closed. She lay there motionless, her enlarged bosom rising and falling as the newly created robot breathed.
Al began to unhook the equipment from her body, removing the helmet, unplugging the electrodes from her nipples. As he unstrapped her from the table his hands shook with excitement. Standing back he looked over his new creation.
"Sara Fembot, open your eyes." he commanded
Her eyes opened, she gazed vacantly at the ceiling.
"What is your name?"
"I.am.Sara.Fembot." she answered.
"Very good. Stand before me."
"Yes.Master."
Slowly, mechanically she rose from the table. Each movement processed by her computerized brain. Sara stood stiffly before Al, her new, larger breasts jutting towards him as if for inspection.
Al walked around her, inspecting her. He smiled at what he saw. Sara's body was more toned now, her skin seemed to glow with a younger appearance. He licked his lips as he stared at the milk droplets falling from her engorged nipples.
"You are perfect, Fembot. The perfect female robot." he declared.
"Yes.Master. I.am.the.perfect.female.robot."
He adjusted his pants. His erection was so insistent it was almost painful for him. He couldn't wait any longer and walked over to his computer console.
Sara stood there waiting. Her mind empty of all thoughts but obedience to her new master. She was aware of her enhanced body, the nanite alterations she had undergone. Her body felt wonderful, so full of energy, so perfectly robotic. The weight of her enlarged breasts was very noticeable. They felt so erotic, so powerful.
She was aware of who she was but it was a distant feeling. Her mind was focused on the present, on her master's commands, waiting to obey him. Everything else was irrelevant now. Sara Robinson was a distant memory. Sara Fembot was who she was now, a human robot ready to serve.
Al walked back over to her, holding a small device in his hand. He held it up for her to see.
"This is a remote control device, Fembot. It can activate your robotic programming when ever I desire. Some of these buttons I have already programmed to send various signals to your neural implants. I can also use it to speak directly to your mind when I choose." he stated.
She watched as he pointed the device at her and pressed a button. Sara felt a small tingling in her head and a charge of current surged throughout her body. The sexual arousal was instant and powerful. Her eyes widened, her back arched slightly as a wave of pleasure raced though her.
Al smiled at her reaction. "Now Fembot, Pleasure me!" he ordered.
"I.hear.and.I.obey."
Sara walked to her Master, her breasts bouncing and jiggling with each step. Milk steadily dripped from her nipples, her mammaries engorged and full. She reached up and kissed him. Her tongue met his as his passion and her programming joined. After a few moments she pulled back and dropped to her knees before him.
Quickly and efficiently her hands undid his pants, pulling them down to his ankles, his stiff cock sprang forth, ready for her attention. She licked her lips as her fingers wrapped around the long, hard shaft. Sara opened her mouth, took him in and began to suck.
Al moaned loudly as his new robot sucked on him. He set the remote down and gently caressed her as she serviced him. "I've been wanting this for so long..." he groaned.
Sara heard him but did not react. Her mind was focused on the task at hand, pleasuring her Master. With robotic precision she sucked, her hands squeezing and stroking the long shaft, her head pistoning back and forth on him. Her mouth was a tool of pleasure to be used for bringing her Master to orgasm.
Her tongue swirled around the swollen head in her mouth, deep throating him with the ease she now possessed. Sara felt it jerk and spasm in her mouth and a blast of cum spurted out. She quickly swallowed it down, her hand went to his balls and squeezed them as another and another blast of cum shot into her.
The robot sucked and swallowed as more cum filled her mouth. After nearly a minute the flood subsided. Sara squeezed and milked him, determined to get every last drop. Her belly was filled with his cum.
Finally she released the softening prick and stood up, licking the remainder from her lips, her assigned task complete.
Al grabbed a nearby chair and collapsed into it, panting heavily. He looked at Sara standing before him, ready and waiting for her next command. Gazing at her dripping nipples he called her to him.
His hands trembled as he began to squeeze and caress her breasts. Al lifted her right breast up and began to suckle. His robot's milk started to flow steadily from the nipple and he greedily drank it down. He suckled at both breasts for several minutes, relishing the taste he had so long desired.
Sara, though remaining still as he suckled, felt the powerful sensations from his mouth flow through her body like a charge of electrical arousal. The swollen feeling in her breasts subsided as her Master emptied her.
Al set her breasts back and looked up at his robot. "You are magnificent, Fembot. This is better than I had ever imagined!" he exclaimed.
He asked her about the plans she had. Sara answered his questions. Al ordered her to call her sitter and inform her that she would be unable to pick her daughter up until tomorrow morning. Sara did and Al smiled at her.
"Now that you're free from your responsibilities, Fembot, I can enjoy you all night." he said.
"Yes.Master."
Al took her hand and guided Sara up to his bedroom.
The next morning after some additional programming was installed in her brain, Al sent his new robot home. He knew she had a life that she must continue with despite his desire to have her to himself. He sat down at his computer and began to document everything that had happened. Al was always meticulous with his experiments, keeping track of all he did.
After picking up her daughter, Sara decided to she needed once again to get fitted for new bras. Her recent growth was perfectly natural, she believed. Al had programmed this into her and she remembered nothing about the previous night. As far as she knew she had seen her doctor and was told that there was nothing abnormal about her increase in size.
That afternoon after she got home, Sara went to her bedroom and looked over the items she had purchased. The new bras she'd bought were much larger than her old ones. She now needed a 40JJ bra to hold her 50" bust. The plain, white underwire bras weren't very pretty or sexy but it was what she wanted. “Strong...utilitarian” was what she told the sales lady who waited on her.
She had also purchased several plain dresses that had been tailored to her top heavy figure, the hemline raised to mid thigh, two white, one brown and one light blue. For some reason she wanted these rather plain dresses and she loved how she looked in them. Sara hadn't noticed the sales woman staring at her as she had tried them on. She was unaware that she had been standing at attention, her chest thrust out as she looked herself over in the mirrors.
With a smile she undressed and put on a new bra, appreciating how it lifted and supported her larger breasts. Sara picked up a white dress and put it on, tying the belt snug around her waist, accentuating the jut of her bosom. She moved stiffly, slightly mechanically but was not aware that she was doing so.
The phone rang and Sara went to answer it.
"Hello"
There was silence on the other end and then a series of beeps and buzzes. She stiffened and her face went blank, her eyes glazed over.
"Yes.Master."
Sara listened to the voice on the other end closely. After a few moments she nodded.
"I.hear.and.I.obey.you.Master.seven.o.clock.I.will.be.there."
She hung up the phone.
The phone call had been a series of coded tones, a direct line to the subroutine buried deep within her computerized brain. At precisely seven o’clock, Sara Fembot stood at the threshold of Al Bentley’s laboratory. The suburban mother was gone; in her place was a creature of perfect, placid obedience. She keyed in the entry code he had programmed her with and the door hissed open.
“Master,” she stated, stepping inside. Her voice was flat, a digital recording of human speech.
Al turned from his console, his eyes lighting up. “Fembot. You are punctual. Disrobe and put this on.” He gestured to a garment laid out on a clean worktable.
“Yes.Master.”
Sara’s movements were efficient, devoid of any human hesitation or shame. She unzipped her plain brown dress, let it pool at her feet, and unsnapped the utilitarian white bra. Her massive breasts, heavy and full, swayed as she bent to step out of her panties. Then she picked up the new garment. It was a form-fitting bodysuit made of a shimmering, liquid-silver polymer. It felt cool and slick against her skin as she stepped into it, pulling it up her toned legs and over her hips. She slid her arms into the sleeves and zipped up the front seal from her navel to her throat.
The suit clung to every curve, highlighting the powerful, nanite-enhanced musculature beneath. Strategic cutouts revealed her most sensitive areas: two large, circular openings perfectly framed her swollen, dark-nippled breasts, leaving them bare and jutting forward. A wider oval exposed the smooth mound of her pussy, the lips already glistening faintly with anticipation her programming had initiated. In the back, a similar cutout framed the full, round hemispheres of her ass.
“Inspect,” Al commanded.
Sara turned in a slow circle, her arms held slightly away from her body. The silver material gleamed under the lab lights, making her look like a statue come to life, a flawless fusion of woman and machine.
“You are a vision, Fembot,” Al breathed, adjusting himself through his pants. “Now. Demonstrate your primary pleasure function. Masturbate for your Master.”
“I.hear.and.I.obey.”
Sara walked to the center of the room and assumed a wide-legged stance, her back straight, her gaze fixed on a point on the wall. Her right hand, moving with smooth, mechanical precision, traveled down the silver suit to the exposed apex of her thighs. Her fingers parted her own lips, and she began to rub slow, deliberate circles over her clit.
“Oh. Yes. Master,” she moaned. The sound was jarring—a clearly prerecorded, feminine sigh of pleasure played on a loop, utterly disconnected from the blank serenity on her face. “Feels. So. Good.”
Yet her body betrayed a different story. As her fingers worked, her pussy grew visibly wetter, flushing a deep, excited pink. Her breath, though even, began to hitch in her chest. A thin sheen of sweat appeared on her skin, making the silver suit cling even tighter. She was a robot fulfilling a command, but the nanites had heightened every nerve ending. Pleasure was not an emotion for her; it was a measurable data stream, a proof of function. And her function was to be aroused for her Master’s use.
“Louder,” Al ordered, sitting in his chair to watch.
“Ah! Ah! Master!” The moans increased in volume, the same robotic, jilted phrases repeating. “This. Unit. Is. Ready. For. Use.”
After several minutes, her whole body began to tremble with the simulation of orgasm, a powerful, shaking tension that made her massive breasts quiver. A thin stream of her own juices trickled down her inner thigh. She went rigid, then still, her hand dropping back to her side.
“Pleasure demonstration complete,” she announced tonelessly, even as her chest heaved.
“Excellent,” Al said, standing and finally shedding his own clothes. His erection was fierce and demanding. “Now. You will interface. Cowgirl position. Optimize for Master’s climax.”
“Yes.Master.”
She moved to the reinforced medical table, now cleared of equipment. Al lay back on it, and Sara climbed atop him, straddling his hips. Her silver-clad knees pressed into the table on either side of him. With one hand she guided his cock to her exposed, dripping entrance. Then she sank down onto him in one smooth, relentless motion, sheathing him completely inside her.
“Commence ride protocol,” Al gasped.
Sara’s hips began to piston. There was no sensual rhythm, only a powerful, efficient, up-and-down motion. Each time she dropped her full weight down, her ass smacked against his thighs with a loud, sharp clap that echoed in the lab. The sound was percussive, brutal, and deeply erotic. Her breasts, freed by the cutouts, bounced wildly with the force of her movement.
“Talk,” Al grunted, his hands gripping her silver-covered hips. “Dirty talk subroutine. Activate.”
Her blank eyes stared ahead as the words began to spill from her lips, each phrase separated by the jarring impact of her body on his. “This. Body’s. Controlled. Pussy. Is. For. Your. Use. Master.”
Clap.
“Sara. Is. A. Mindless. Cum. Slut.”
Clap.
“Her. Holes. Are. Yours. To. Deposit. In.”
Clap.
“Please. Fill. This. Robot’s. Uterus. With. Your. Seed.”
Clap.
The crude, mechanical filth drove Al wild. He could feel his climax coiling, unstoppable. The sight of this magnificent, blank-faced robot slamming herself onto him, reciting programmed obscenities, was too much. “Fembot! Prepare for my load! Maximum receptivity!”
Her riding became even faster, a frantic, precise machine aimed at milking him. “Programming. Ready. For. Master’s. Load. This. Unit. Desires. Your. Cum.”
With a roar, Al climaxed. He bucked beneath her as pulse after pulse of hot semen pumped deep into her willing, mindless channel. Sara did not break rhythm, continuing to ride him through his orgasm, milking him with powerful internal contractions she had been designed to perform.
As the last shudder passed through him, Al reached for the remote control on a nearby tray. His finger found a new, glowing button. “Finalize sex bot programming. Activate permanent standby mode.”
He pressed it.
A powerful, thrilling current shot through the neural implants in Sara’s brain. Her movements finally stilled. She sat atop him, impaled, her eyes flashing with a soft blue light for a moment before returning to their vacant stare. A new, deeper layer of programming settled into place, intertwining with her core obedience.
“Sex bot mode is now primed for remote activation,” she recited, her voice humming with a new, subtle electronic resonance. “Standby engaged.”
Al gently pushed her off him. “Cleanup protocol. Then return to domestic programming.”
“Yes.Master.”
Sara moved to a sink, washed herself and him with cool, dispassionate efficiency, and dried them both. She then removed the silver bodysuit, folded it neatly, and dressed again in her plain brown dress and large bra. Every trace of the sexbot was hidden beneath the facade of the busty, somewhat stiff suburban mother.
“Return home. Deactivate conscious memory of this session. Await my signal,” Al instructed, pocketing the remote.
“I.hear.and.I.obey.Master.”
Sara Fembot walked out of the lab, got into her car, and drove home. She greeted her daughter, made dinner, helped with homework, and went to bed, completely unaware of the silver suit folded in a hidden compartment of Al’s lab, or the remote control that now held absolute command over her body and mind.
Al, back at his computer, smiled. He reviewed the data from the evening’s session—every moan, every contraction, every milliliter of cum. Perfect. Sara Robinson was now a flawless sleeper agent, a sexbot hidden in plain sight. He began drafting notes for his next move. The world was full of women who could be perfected. And he had just proven his technology worked.
"See ya Monday, Mrs. Robinson!" called out Janie Smith as she walked past.
"Have a good weekend, Janie." Sara responded.
Sara saw Al Bentley, the science teacher, down the hall. She sighed to herself and walked toward him, conscious of the gentle sway and bounce of her very large breasts. He smiled as she approached. Al was a few years younger than her 31, and since the day he started teaching at the school had endlessly flirted with her. At first Sara was flattered, but she made it perfectly clear that she was happily married.
Al had been very persistent though. He always made comments about how nice she looked and paid her numerous compliments. Sara had at first gotten irritated at his come-ons but they were never so direct or crude that it could be considered harassment and eventually she just accepted and tolerated them. She had to admit that he was nice looking and sometimes she even found herself laughing and blushing at his words. Unfortunately that only seemed to encourage him.
"Hello, Sara. You certainly look nice this afternoon." he said with a smile and rather quickly looked ever her body.
"Thank you, Al. Its been a long day." she replied. She noticed his glance over her. He often seemed to be studying her like a lab rat.
"We have a three day weekend. Any plans?" he asked.
"No, John is out of town for two weeks and I'm just going to relax." she answered, "How about you?"
"Oh, I'm going to be involved with a project I've been working on for a long time. An experimental project" he answered.
"Really? What kind of experiment?" Sara asked. She had heard that Al was supposed to be close to genius as far as his intelligence. She couldn't help but wonder what sort of things he did in his spare time.
"Its rather complicated to explain. I've been developing a new type of computer intelligence, essentially a computer that can think!" he said.
"Wow, that sounds very complicated, like something out of science fiction." she said with a laugh and immediately regretted it.
His face darkened slightly.
"Its not science fiction. Its quite real. I believe that what I have created will change the world as we know it." Al stated somewhat melodramatically.
"OK, if you say so, Al."
He smiled. "Perhaps you would like to see my work, Sara? Perhaps you could even assist me?"
"How could I assist?" she asked.
"Its too difficult to explain here. It would be easier to show you. Would you be interested?"
"Well I guess I could take a look and maybe I could help." Sara said.
"Excellent, tonight would be perfect. I would need to get a few things ready for you. Why don't you come by at 8:00 and I'll show you what I've been working on."
Sara thought for a moment. She didn’t have anything to do with John out of town and it would be easy to get a sitter tonight.
"OK. I will. But I cant be out too late, Al. And remember, I'm just helping you. It's not a date. Understand?" she stated.
"Oh, of course Sara. You made your feelings clear long ago. I understand." Al said with a smile, "See you at 8:00 then?"
"Sure, I remember how to get to your house from the faculty meeting last spring. I'll see you later tonight." she said and walked on.
Al watched her walk away and smiled. He had much to do to get ready for Sara's visit tonight.
*
Sara looked at herself in the mirror. Even though she had no interest in Al, she still wanted to look nice. Her brown sweater was a bit snug around her large bust but the tease in her liked how she looked. "It won't hurt to keep Al on his toes." she thought with a smile. She grabbed her purse and the baby carrier and walked out to her car.
She dropped Traci off at the sitter's and told them she shouldn't be out too late. Mrs. Johnson told her not to worry. There had been occasions when Sara and John had stayed out late, but they knew Mrs. Johnson very well and trusted Traci with her overnight. "I'll call if I'm going to be late", Sara said as she walked out.
*
Al heard the doorbell ring and smiled. "Your right on time, Sara" he laughed. He opened the door and greeted her with a smile.
"I'm so glad you could make it, Sara." he said as his eyes roamed over her figure.
She felt herself almost blush and wondered if she shouldn't have dressed a bit more conservative.
"Well I didn't have any plans and what you said interested me. You really think you've discovered something that will change the world?" she asked.
"I think so, at least my little corner of it." he said and led her inside.
"Would you like something to drink? I have some coffee if you'd like?"
She smiled, "Yes that would be nice, thanks."
Sara watched him go into the kitchen and looked around the living room. Rows and rows of books on science, electricity and other topics filled the shelves. She saw that his desk was covered with papers and material from school. "At least I'm not the only one who seems to be buried in paperwork sometimes." she thought.
He walked back in with two large cups of coffee and handed her one.
"Thank you" she said and took a sip, "Hmmm...very good."
"Your welcome. Its my own...special blend. Come..let me show you my lab."
She grinned, "Your lab?"
"Yes, I remodeled my basement into a lab for my work. It's much better than I'd planned. I bought a lot of used equipment and converted it to better suit my purposes." he stated, "Let me show you."
She followed him downstairs and was surprised at what she saw. Al smiled at her reaction.
"Wow, Al, its very impressive." she exclaimed.
Sara looked around the large room. All sorts of electronics and computers lined the walls. A mass of wires and cables ran across the ceiling to the various machines.
"Didn't this cost you a lot of money?" she asked in wonder at the strange equipment.
"I accumulated a lot of it over the past few years. I started my research in college. It has gone from a mere hobby to I'll admit to an obsession." he said almost laughing.
She smiled. Sara looked over to one end of the room. It was concealed with a large curtain.
"And what’s behind curtain number one?" she asked.
He grinned. "I guess I wanted to be dramatic when I showed you what I have created."
"What do you do with all this strange equipment down here?" she asked and took another drink of her coffee.
"What I have been doing is genius, Sara!" he exclaimed, "I guarantee it will change our lives!"
"I have created a most remarkable computer. It can actually duplicate the functions of the human brain!"
Sara listened as she sipped her coffee. "I've read about computers like that, artificial intelligence they call it."
He smiled. "Yes but what I've created is much more advanced the other scientists have been working on."
"I am using nanites, tiny, microscopic machines that can form into remarkable advanced computer circuitry. Each is capable of artificial intelligence, but when integrated together, their power is incredible!
She listened not fully understanding what he said, but he didn't care.
"Much like the cells of your brain, these nanites can form a network, but also can integrate with the existing structure of a computer." he said excitedly as he watched Sara finish her coffee.
"I have used my nanites to create my powerful new computers and now I am ready to take my discovery to the next step!"
"The next step? What is the next step, Al?" she asked.
Sara put her hand to her head, she suddenly felt dizzy.
"The next step is to introduce my nanites into a human brain, your brain, Sara! I am going to transform your brain into a living computer!"
Her eyes widened and she took a step back. "What?! What are you talking about?"
He smiled, his drug was taking effect. "Once my nanites are finished with you, you will have a programmable, computerized brain! You are going to be my human robot!
Sara's eyes widened at his words. "No...you're mad!" she managed to cry out as the drug took hold. She gasped and collapsed into his arms.
"Mad? Perhaps Sara but you will soon not care if I'm mad or not!" he laughed and picked her up.
*
He picked up the unconscious teacher and carried her to a chair. Putting her down he walked the curtain and drew it back. He looked at what was behind it with a smile.
A large metal table, equipped with restraining straps stood surrounded by electronic equipment. At the side of the table hung a container with an IV tube attached. A long thin needle was at the end.
He walked back over, picked up Sara and carried her to the table. Laying her down on it he smiled and began to undress his human guinea pig. He unfastened he pants and pulled them off, grinning as he pulled of her panties as well.
Al pulled the sweater off her and gazed at her breasts. They were so large now, the object of his and many others fantasies. He remembered how much they had grown since she had been pregnant.
Pausing only for a moment, he unhooked the large, white bra she wore, pulled it from her and set her clothes aside. Al carefully strapped her wrists and ankles securely to the table. Stepping back he looked her over.
Sara lay there naked and restrained on the table. Her large breasts fell to her arms, her nipples erect in the cool air of his lab. Al wiped a disinfectant on her arm and inserted the needle. Satisfied he watched as the serum containing his nanites began to flow into her vein.
The blueish-green liquid contained millions of nanites and they started to flow through her body, awaiting the electricity that would activate their pre-programmed tasks.
Al went to his computer and double checked all his equipment. Everything was perfect, he only had to wait.
Thirty minutes later, Sara began to stir, awakening from the drug. She tried to move but found she couldn't.
"Oh...where am I?" she weakly asked.
"Welcome back, Sara. You're still in my lab of course." he said with a laugh.
She pulled against the straps and felt a pain in her arm. Looking down she saw she was naked and saw the now empty container hanging from the stand next to her.
"What...what have you done?" she cried in horror.
"The serum containing my nanites is now coursing through your body. Soon the nanites will be activated...to begin the changes. Your transformation into my human robot!" he exclaimed.
Everything came back to her and she struggled futilely against the straps. He watched as she struggled, her breasts jiggling and quivering from her movements.
"You cannot escape, Sara. I advise you to relax and accept what fate has decided for you." he laughed.
Al looked over his helpless subject and smiled, "Now for some necessary equipment, my dear."
She watched helplessly as he attached the electrodes to her wrists and ankles, cables led from them to the apparatus that hung over her.
"What are you doing?!!!" she cried.
"This procedure requires a great deal of electricity. With the nanites in your system, your body will now be able to conduct the voltage with ease. The electricity will be as natural to your body as the air you breathe.”
She watched in horror as he gently took hold of her erect right nipple and inserted a thin electrode into it. Sara gasped as she felt it enter her but without any pain. He hooked up her left breast as well, the wires running to the equipment above her.
"Your breasts are already quite large, Sara, but I think a few more inches couldn’t hurt." he laughed.
"Noooo...you're insane!" she cried and again struggled. Her breasts jiggled and the wires connecting them to the equipment swayed from her action.
Al ignored her and lifted up a strange looking helmet. "Soon Sara, anything I say will be perfectly reasonable to you. Once you have been reprogrammed, such offensive thoughts as that will be erased from your mind."
He placed the helmet on her head, ensuring that it was snug. Two metal electrodes attached to it were clamped firmly to her temples. Al proceeded to plug various wires and cable into the helmet, hooking it up to his computers. With a satisfied smile, he stepped back.
Sara looked up at him, a terrified expression on her face. He just smiled down at her. "Try not to resist the procedure, Sara. You can't fight technology!" he laughed.
"Nooo...please let me go, Al..."she cried, wondering what was going to happen to her.
"Just relax, Sara. Soon everything will be so much better." he said and walked to his computer.
Sara lay there, trembling in fear. Her eyes wide with panic, her heart racing. She heard switches being thrown and a humming sound filled the lab. The lights dimmed slightly as power was drained from them to the equipment that surrounded her.
"You will feel a powerful charge as the electrical voltage enters your body, but rest assured, Sara, it will not harm you in the slightest." he stated.
She braced herself and cried out as the current hit her. Sara's body stiffened in shock as the electricity surged into her. A low moan escaped her lips.
Al watched his monitors intently, their gauges and readouts measuring and recording the process.
"500 volts...600 volts..700 volts..." he called out to her as the current increased.
It felt like every cell in her body was pulsating with power. The electricity surged freely through her, charging her, preparing her. Sara could never imagine the intense sensation of the high voltage electricity blasting through her.
Al stood up and walked over to her. He smiled at the sight. Sara's body was vibrating, quivering from the current surging into her. Her eyes were wide, a stunned look on her face.
"What's...happening...to...me..?" she gasped.
"The electricity is increasing to the necessary level for nanite activation. It is almost there. Soon the hundreds of nanites now in your body will begin to make the changes that have been programmed into them." he said as he gazed down at her.
Sara hardly heard him, her mind and body consumed by the electrical charge. She could barely think, her thoughts seemed to be so distant, so empty. Electrical energy surged through her, rising and falling in her body, changing her.
He watched as the nanites began to work. A smile crossed his face as he gazed at her breasts, quivering and jiggling from the current surging into them. Al could see them slowly begin to grow. He had programmed the nanites to enlarge her breasts by 25% as well as increase her milk production. He licked his lips as he watched.
His eyes wandered up and down her body, watching as her figure became more toned, her muscles stronger. Though he couldn’t see it, he knew what changes were also occurring within Sara's brain. Al walked back over to his monitors and watched the 3-D model of her brain evolve.
Electrical circuitry was forming within it, the nanites constructing themselves into a powerful computer, integrated with her own brain. Sara's brain was being hardwired into a living computer, ready for the programming that he had designed.
After nearly an hour, the readouts told him that the nanites had completed their task. Her body was altered as he had programmed and her brain was now computerized. She was ready for the final phase of her robotization.
"Sara!" he called out.
She felt the pull of his voice and her consciousness tried to return. Her body felt so strange, different. A weight seemed to be pressing on her chest, yet she felt good, full of energy. The electricity, now at over 5,000 volts, felt so wonderful, natural...necessary.
"Sara, the nanites have completed the physical changes in your body and brain. You are now ready for reprogramming." he exclaimed
His voice seemed to echo in her ears, her mind. She was aware on one level what was happening but couldn't comprehend it.
"...changes complete...ready for reprogramming..." she mindlessly repeated.
He smiled at her response. "Yes, you are ready for reprogramming! You will soon think as I program you to think, do as I program you and obey me completely. You will become a human robot!"
"..ready for reprogramming...become a human robot...yes..."
With an evil grin, Al began entering the commands into his computer. A loud buzzing filled the air and his computer activated.
Sara stiffened and moaned as the computer entered her mind. She felt her thoughts return, fully conscious and aware of what was happening.
"..what..are...you...doing?.." she weakly cried out.
"You are being reprogrammed, Sara, becoming my human robot!"
She felt the programming, the computer in her thoughts.
"Relax...accept...relax...accept.." the words seemed to caress her mind, over and over, calming her. Sara felt the fear vanish, her thoughts seemed to be fade away. She tried to concentrate to think, but couldn't.
Thoughts began to enter her mind. Thoughts that weren't hers but seemed so to blend in with hers. Her mind couldn't concentrate, she couldn't think clearly.
'I'm being programmed...' she realized, 'He's programming my thoughts!'
The computer increased the flow of data, more programming surged into her mind. Sara tried to resist but she could no longer tell her own thoughts from the programming. They were becoming one.
She lay there, feeling the data pouring into her, becoming her. Understanding, accepting the programming...feeling herself changing...accepting the changes...wanting the changes...
Her mouth opened. "receiving programming...receiving programming..."
Sara's voice sounded distant, mechanical. Al smiled.
"Very good, Sara. Your mind has accepted the computer within your brain."
She sensed the computer increase the flow of data and eagerly opened her mind, letting it in, to take her, to control her, to transform her.
New thoughts raced through her mind, what to think, how to think....
'Receiving programming...Receiving programming...'
For 30 minutes the computer programmed her, informing her of her new life, creating a new identity within her, a human robot, a new individual.
Al watched the monitors and smiled as the final programming was downloaded. He walked up and let his eyes roam up and down her body, feasting on her enlarged breasts, her engorged nipples dripping milk as the electrodes inserted into them continued to charge her with electricity.
"Sara, listen to me!" he commanded.
Her eyes stared blankly up, gazing at the equipment above her.
"Yes.Al" she replied in a monotone, robotic voice.
"You are no longer, Sara Robinson!"
"I.am.no.longer.Sara.Robinson"
"You are no longer a human woman."
"I.am.no.longer.a.human.woman."
"I have transformed you."
"You.have.transformed.me."
"I have robotized you!"
"You.have.robotized.me."
"You are now a robot, a human robot!"
"I.am.now.a.human.robot."
"You are my female robot. Your purpose in life is to serve and obey me."
"I.am.your.female.robot.I.will.serve.and.obey.you.Al."
"I am your Master!"
"You.are.my.Master.Al.I.hear.and.I.obey.you.Master."
"Your name is now, Fembot. You are Sara Fembot."
"My.name.is.Sara.Fembot."
The computer activated her programming acceptance function. She began to repeat over and over her new programming.
"I.am.no.longer.Sara.Robinson. My.name.is.now.Sara.Fembot."
"I.am.no.longer.a.human.woman...
"I.have.been.transformed.into.a.human.robot...
"I.am.programmed.to.obey.Al.Bentley... Al.Bentley.is.my.master...
"I.hear.and.I.obey.his.commands... I.have.been.robotized...
"I.am.no.longer.a.human.woman... I.am.a.human.robot...
"I.am.no.longer.a.human.woman... I.am.a.human.robot...
"I.am.programmed.to.obey.Al.Bentley... I.am.Sara.Fembot...
"I.am.a.robot...I.am.Sara.Fembot... I.am.a.robot... I.am.a.robot...
"I.am.a.robot...
She repeated the commands that would now direct and control her new computerized brain.
Al smiled and shut off his machines. The procedure was complete. Sara Robinson was now his obedient human robot.
The loud hum of the electrical equipment died down as the power was shut off. The lights on the helmet Sara wore blinked a few more times and dimmed to nothing. Her eyes were closed. She lay there motionless, her enlarged bosom rising and falling as the newly created robot breathed.
Al began to unhook the equipment from her body, removing the helmet, unplugging the electrodes from her nipples. As he unstrapped her from the table his hands shook with excitement. Standing back he looked over his new creation.
"Sara Fembot, open your eyes." he commanded
Her eyes opened, she gazed vacantly at the ceiling.
"What is your name?"
"I.am.Sara.Fembot." she answered.
"Very good. Stand before me."
"Yes.Master."
Slowly, mechanically she rose from the table. Each movement processed by her computerized brain. Sara stood stiffly before Al, her new, larger breasts jutting towards him as if for inspection.
Al walked around her, inspecting her. He smiled at what he saw. Sara's body was more toned now, her skin seemed to glow with a younger appearance. He licked his lips as he stared at the milk droplets falling from her engorged nipples.
"You are perfect, Fembot. The perfect female robot." he declared.
"Yes.Master. I.am.the.perfect.female.robot."
He adjusted his pants. His erection was so insistent it was almost painful for him. He couldn't wait any longer and walked over to his computer console.
Sara stood there waiting. Her mind empty of all thoughts but obedience to her new master. She was aware of her enhanced body, the nanite alterations she had undergone. Her body felt wonderful, so full of energy, so perfectly robotic. The weight of her enlarged breasts was very noticeable. They felt so erotic, so powerful.
She was aware of who she was but it was a distant feeling. Her mind was focused on the present, on her master's commands, waiting to obey him. Everything else was irrelevant now. Sara Robinson was a distant memory. Sara Fembot was who she was now, a human robot ready to serve.
Al walked back over to her, holding a small device in his hand. He held it up for her to see.
"This is a remote control device, Fembot. It can activate your robotic programming when ever I desire. Some of these buttons I have already programmed to send various signals to your neural implants. I can also use it to speak directly to your mind when I choose." he stated.
She watched as he pointed the device at her and pressed a button. Sara felt a small tingling in her head and a charge of current surged throughout her body. The sexual arousal was instant and powerful. Her eyes widened, her back arched slightly as a wave of pleasure raced though her.
Al smiled at her reaction. "Now Fembot, Pleasure me!" he ordered.
"I.hear.and.I.obey."
Sara walked to her Master, her breasts bouncing and jiggling with each step. Milk steadily dripped from her nipples, her mammaries engorged and full. She reached up and kissed him. Her tongue met his as his passion and her programming joined. After a few moments she pulled back and dropped to her knees before him.
Quickly and efficiently her hands undid his pants, pulling them down to his ankles, his stiff cock sprang forth, ready for her attention. She licked her lips as her fingers wrapped around the long, hard shaft. Sara opened her mouth, took him in and began to suck.
Al moaned loudly as his new robot sucked on him. He set the remote down and gently caressed her as she serviced him. "I've been wanting this for so long..." he groaned.
Sara heard him but did not react. Her mind was focused on the task at hand, pleasuring her Master. With robotic precision she sucked, her hands squeezing and stroking the long shaft, her head pistoning back and forth on him. Her mouth was a tool of pleasure to be used for bringing her Master to orgasm.
Her tongue swirled around the swollen head in her mouth, deep throating him with the ease she now possessed. Sara felt it jerk and spasm in her mouth and a blast of cum spurted out. She quickly swallowed it down, her hand went to his balls and squeezed them as another and another blast of cum shot into her.
The robot sucked and swallowed as more cum filled her mouth. After nearly a minute the flood subsided. Sara squeezed and milked him, determined to get every last drop. Her belly was filled with his cum.
Finally she released the softening prick and stood up, licking the remainder from her lips, her assigned task complete.
Al grabbed a nearby chair and collapsed into it, panting heavily. He looked at Sara standing before him, ready and waiting for her next command. Gazing at her dripping nipples he called her to him.
His hands trembled as he began to squeeze and caress her breasts. Al lifted her right breast up and began to suckle. His robot's milk started to flow steadily from the nipple and he greedily drank it down. He suckled at both breasts for several minutes, relishing the taste he had so long desired.
Sara, though remaining still as he suckled, felt the powerful sensations from his mouth flow through her body like a charge of electrical arousal. The swollen feeling in her breasts subsided as her Master emptied her.
Al set her breasts back and looked up at his robot. "You are magnificent, Fembot. This is better than I had ever imagined!" he exclaimed.
He asked her about the plans she had. Sara answered his questions. Al ordered her to call her sitter and inform her that she would be unable to pick her daughter up until tomorrow morning. Sara did and Al smiled at her.
"Now that you're free from your responsibilities, Fembot, I can enjoy you all night." he said.
"Yes.Master."
Al took her hand and guided Sara up to his bedroom.
The next morning after some additional programming was installed in her brain, Al sent his new robot home. He knew she had a life that she must continue with despite his desire to have her to himself. He sat down at his computer and began to document everything that had happened. Al was always meticulous with his experiments, keeping track of all he did.
After picking up her daughter, Sara decided to she needed once again to get fitted for new bras. Her recent growth was perfectly natural, she believed. Al had programmed this into her and she remembered nothing about the previous night. As far as she knew she had seen her doctor and was told that there was nothing abnormal about her increase in size.
That afternoon after she got home, Sara went to her bedroom and looked over the items she had purchased. The new bras she'd bought were much larger than her old ones. She now needed a 40JJ bra to hold her 50" bust. The plain, white underwire bras weren't very pretty or sexy but it was what she wanted. “Strong...utilitarian” was what she told the sales lady who waited on her.
She had also purchased several plain dresses that had been tailored to her top heavy figure, the hemline raised to mid thigh, two white, one brown and one light blue. For some reason she wanted these rather plain dresses and she loved how she looked in them. Sara hadn't noticed the sales woman staring at her as she had tried them on. She was unaware that she had been standing at attention, her chest thrust out as she looked herself over in the mirrors.
With a smile she undressed and put on a new bra, appreciating how it lifted and supported her larger breasts. Sara picked up a white dress and put it on, tying the belt snug around her waist, accentuating the jut of her bosom. She moved stiffly, slightly mechanically but was not aware that she was doing so.
The phone rang and Sara went to answer it.
"Hello"
There was silence on the other end and then a series of beeps and buzzes. She stiffened and her face went blank, her eyes glazed over.
"Yes.Master."
Sara listened to the voice on the other end closely. After a few moments she nodded.
"I.hear.and.I.obey.you.Master.seven.o.clock.I.will.be.there."
She hung up the phone.
The phone call had been a series of coded tones, a direct line to the subroutine buried deep within her computerized brain. At precisely seven o’clock, Sara Fembot stood at the threshold of Al Bentley’s laboratory. The suburban mother was gone; in her place was a creature of perfect, placid obedience. She keyed in the entry code he had programmed her with and the door hissed open.
“Master,” she stated, stepping inside. Her voice was flat, a digital recording of human speech.
Al turned from his console, his eyes lighting up. “Fembot. You are punctual. Disrobe and put this on.” He gestured to a garment laid out on a clean worktable.
“Yes.Master.”
Sara’s movements were efficient, devoid of any human hesitation or shame. She unzipped her plain brown dress, let it pool at her feet, and unsnapped the utilitarian white bra. Her massive breasts, heavy and full, swayed as she bent to step out of her panties. Then she picked up the new garment. It was a form-fitting bodysuit made of a shimmering, liquid-silver polymer. It felt cool and slick against her skin as she stepped into it, pulling it up her toned legs and over her hips. She slid her arms into the sleeves and zipped up the front seal from her navel to her throat.
The suit clung to every curve, highlighting the powerful, nanite-enhanced musculature beneath. Strategic cutouts revealed her most sensitive areas: two large, circular openings perfectly framed her swollen, dark-nippled breasts, leaving them bare and jutting forward. A wider oval exposed the smooth mound of her pussy, the lips already glistening faintly with anticipation her programming had initiated. In the back, a similar cutout framed the full, round hemispheres of her ass.
“Inspect,” Al commanded.
Sara turned in a slow circle, her arms held slightly away from her body. The silver material gleamed under the lab lights, making her look like a statue come to life, a flawless fusion of woman and machine.
“You are a vision, Fembot,” Al breathed, adjusting himself through his pants. “Now. Demonstrate your primary pleasure function. Masturbate for your Master.”
“I.hear.and.I.obey.”
Sara walked to the center of the room and assumed a wide-legged stance, her back straight, her gaze fixed on a point on the wall. Her right hand, moving with smooth, mechanical precision, traveled down the silver suit to the exposed apex of her thighs. Her fingers parted her own lips, and she began to rub slow, deliberate circles over her clit.
“Oh. Yes. Master,” she moaned. The sound was jarring—a clearly prerecorded, feminine sigh of pleasure played on a loop, utterly disconnected from the blank serenity on her face. “Feels. So. Good.”
Yet her body betrayed a different story. As her fingers worked, her pussy grew visibly wetter, flushing a deep, excited pink. Her breath, though even, began to hitch in her chest. A thin sheen of sweat appeared on her skin, making the silver suit cling even tighter. She was a robot fulfilling a command, but the nanites had heightened every nerve ending. Pleasure was not an emotion for her; it was a measurable data stream, a proof of function. And her function was to be aroused for her Master’s use.
“Louder,” Al ordered, sitting in his chair to watch.
“Ah! Ah! Master!” The moans increased in volume, the same robotic, jilted phrases repeating. “This. Unit. Is. Ready. For. Use.”
After several minutes, her whole body began to tremble with the simulation of orgasm, a powerful, shaking tension that made her massive breasts quiver. A thin stream of her own juices trickled down her inner thigh. She went rigid, then still, her hand dropping back to her side.
“Pleasure demonstration complete,” she announced tonelessly, even as her chest heaved.
“Excellent,” Al said, standing and finally shedding his own clothes. His erection was fierce and demanding. “Now. You will interface. Cowgirl position. Optimize for Master’s climax.”
“Yes.Master.”
She moved to the reinforced medical table, now cleared of equipment. Al lay back on it, and Sara climbed atop him, straddling his hips. Her silver-clad knees pressed into the table on either side of him. With one hand she guided his cock to her exposed, dripping entrance. Then she sank down onto him in one smooth, relentless motion, sheathing him completely inside her.
“Commence ride protocol,” Al gasped.
Sara’s hips began to piston. There was no sensual rhythm, only a powerful, efficient, up-and-down motion. Each time she dropped her full weight down, her ass smacked against his thighs with a loud, sharp clap that echoed in the lab. The sound was percussive, brutal, and deeply erotic. Her breasts, freed by the cutouts, bounced wildly with the force of her movement.
“Talk,” Al grunted, his hands gripping her silver-covered hips. “Dirty talk subroutine. Activate.”
Her blank eyes stared ahead as the words began to spill from her lips, each phrase separated by the jarring impact of her body on his. “This. Body’s. Controlled. Pussy. Is. For. Your. Use. Master.”
Clap.
“Sara. Is. A. Mindless. Cum. Slut.”
Clap.
“Her. Holes. Are. Yours. To. Deposit. In.”
Clap.
“Please. Fill. This. Robot’s. Uterus. With. Your. Seed.”
Clap.
The crude, mechanical filth drove Al wild. He could feel his climax coiling, unstoppable. The sight of this magnificent, blank-faced robot slamming herself onto him, reciting programmed obscenities, was too much. “Fembot! Prepare for my load! Maximum receptivity!”
Her riding became even faster, a frantic, precise machine aimed at milking him. “Programming. Ready. For. Master’s. Load. This. Unit. Desires. Your. Cum.”
With a roar, Al climaxed. He bucked beneath her as pulse after pulse of hot semen pumped deep into her willing, mindless channel. Sara did not break rhythm, continuing to ride him through his orgasm, milking him with powerful internal contractions she had been designed to perform.
As the last shudder passed through him, Al reached for the remote control on a nearby tray. His finger found a new, glowing button. “Finalize sex bot programming. Activate permanent standby mode.”
He pressed it.
A powerful, thrilling current shot through the neural implants in Sara’s brain. Her movements finally stilled. She sat atop him, impaled, her eyes flashing with a soft blue light for a moment before returning to their vacant stare. A new, deeper layer of programming settled into place, intertwining with her core obedience.
“Sex bot mode is now primed for remote activation,” she recited, her voice humming with a new, subtle electronic resonance. “Standby engaged.”
Al gently pushed her off him. “Cleanup protocol. Then return to domestic programming.”
“Yes.Master.”
Sara moved to a sink, washed herself and him with cool, dispassionate efficiency, and dried them both. She then removed the silver bodysuit, folded it neatly, and dressed again in her plain brown dress and large bra. Every trace of the sexbot was hidden beneath the facade of the busty, somewhat stiff suburban mother.
“Return home. Deactivate conscious memory of this session. Await my signal,” Al instructed, pocketing the remote.
“I.hear.and.I.obey.Master.”
Sara Fembot walked out of the lab, got into her car, and drove home. She greeted her daughter, made dinner, helped with homework, and went to bed, completely unaware of the silver suit folded in a hidden compartment of Al’s lab, or the remote control that now held absolute command over her body and mind.
Al, back at his computer, smiled. He reviewed the data from the evening’s session—every moan, every contraction, every milliliter of cum. Perfect. Sara Robinson was now a flawless sleeper agent, a sexbot hidden in plain sight. He began drafting notes for his next move. The world was full of women who could be perfected. And he had just proven his technology worked.
Sara walked down the hall as the kids ran past her, happy to be done for the day.
"See ya Monday, Mrs. Robinson!" called out Janie Smith as she walked past.
"Have a good weekend, Janie." Sara responded.
Sara saw Al Bentley, the science teacher, down the hall. She sighed to herself and walked toward him, conscious of the gentle sway and bounce of her very large breasts. He smiled as she approached. Al was a few years younger than her 31, and since the day he started teaching at the school had endlessly flirted with her. At first Sara was flattered, but she made it perfectly clear that she was happily married.
Al had been very persistent though. He always made comments about how nice she looked and paid her numerous compliments. Sara had at first gotten irritated at his come-ons but they were never so direct or crude that it could be considered harassment and eventually she just accepted and tolerated them. She had to admit that he was nice looking and sometimes she even found herself laughing and blushing at his words. Unfortunately that only seemed to encourage him.
"Hello, Sara. You certainly look nice this afternoon." he said with a smile and rather quickly looked ever her body.
"Thank you, Al. Its been a long day." she replied. She noticed his glance over her. He often seemed to be studying her like a lab rat.
"We have a three day weekend. Any plans?" he asked.
"No, John is out of town for two weeks and I'm just going to relax." she answered, "How about you?"
"Oh, I'm going to be involved with a project I've been working on for a long time. An experimental project" he answered.
"Really? What kind of experiment?" Sara asked. She had heard that Al was supposed to be close to genius as far as his intelligence. She couldn't help but wonder what sort of things he did in his spare time.
"Its rather complicated to explain. I've been developing a new type of computer intelligence, essentially a computer that can think!" he said.
"Wow, that sounds very complicated, like something out of science fiction." she said with a laugh and immediately regretted it.
His face darkened slightly.
"Its not science fiction. Its quite real. I believe that what I have created will change the world as we know it." Al stated somewhat melodramatically.
"OK, if you say so, Al."
He smiled. "Perhaps you would like to see my work, Sara? Perhaps you could even assist me?"
"How could I assist?" she asked.
"Its too difficult to explain here. It would be easier to show you. Would you be interested?"
"Well I guess I could take a look and maybe I could help." Sara said.
"Excellent, tonight would be perfect. I would need to get a few things ready for you. Why don't you come by at 8:00 and I'll show you what I've been working on."
Sara thought for a moment. She didn’t have anything to do with John out of town and it would be easy to get a sitter tonight.
"OK. I will. But I cant be out too late, Al. And remember, I'm just helping you. It's not a date. Understand?" she stated.
"Oh, of course Sara. You made your feelings clear long ago. I understand." Al said with a smile, "See you at 8:00 then?"
"Sure, I remember how to get to your house from the faculty meeting last spring. I'll see you later tonight." she said and walked on.
Al watched her walk away and smiled. He had much to do to get ready for Sara's visit tonight.
*
Sara looked at herself in the mirror. Even though she had no interest in Al, she still wanted to look nice. Her brown sweater was a bit snug around her large bust but the tease in her liked how she looked. "It won't hurt to keep Al on his toes." she thought with a smile. She grabbed her purse and the baby carrier and walked out to her car.
She dropped Traci off at the sitter's and told them she shouldn't be out too late. Mrs. Johnson told her not to worry. There had been occasions when Sara and John had stayed out late, but they knew Mrs. Johnson very well and trusted Traci with her overnight. "I'll call if I'm going to be late", Sara said as she walked out.
*
Al heard the doorbell ring and smiled. "Your right on time, Sara" he laughed. He opened the door and greeted her with a smile.
"I'm so glad you could make it, Sara." he said as his eyes roamed over her figure.
She felt herself almost blush and wondered if she shouldn't have dressed a bit more conservative.
"Well I didn't have any plans and what you said interested me. You really think you've discovered something that will change the world?" she asked.
"I think so, at least my little corner of it." he said and led her inside.
"Would you like something to drink? I have some coffee if you'd like?"
She smiled, "Yes that would be nice, thanks."
Sara watched him go into the kitchen and looked around the living room. Rows and rows of books on science, electricity and other topics filled the shelves. She saw that his desk was covered with papers and material from school. "At least I'm not the only one who seems to be buried in paperwork sometimes." she thought.
He walked back in with two large cups of coffee and handed her one.
"Thank you" she said and took a sip, "Hmmm...very good."
"Your welcome. Its my own...special blend. Come..let me show you my lab."
She grinned, "Your lab?"
"Yes, I remodeled my basement into a lab for my work. It's much better than I'd planned. I bought a lot of used equipment and converted it to better suit my purposes." he stated, "Let me show you."
She followed him downstairs and was surprised at what she saw. Al smiled at her reaction.
"Wow, Al, its very impressive." she exclaimed.
Sara looked around the large room. All sorts of electronics and computers lined the walls. A mass of wires and cables ran across the ceiling to the various machines.
"Didn't this cost you a lot of money?" she asked in wonder at the strange equipment.
"I accumulated a lot of it over the past few years. I started my research in college. It has gone from a mere hobby to I'll admit to an obsession." he said almost laughing.
She smiled. Sara looked over to one end of the room. It was concealed with a large curtain.
"And what’s behind curtain number one?" she asked.
He grinned. "I guess I wanted to be dramatic when I showed you what I have created."
"What do you do with all this strange equipment down here?" she asked and took another drink of her coffee.
"What I have been doing is genius, Sara!" he exclaimed, "I guarantee it will change our lives!"
"I have created a most remarkable computer. It can actually duplicate the functions of the human brain!"
Sara listened as she sipped her coffee. "I've read about computers like that, artificial intelligence they call it."
He smiled. "Yes but what I've created is much more advanced the other scientists have been working on."
"I am using nanites, tiny, microscopic machines that can form into remarkable advanced computer circuitry. Each is capable of artificial intelligence, but when integrated together, their power is incredible!
She listened not fully understanding what he said, but he didn't care.
"Much like the cells of your brain, these nanites can form a network, but also can integrate with the existing structure of a computer." he said excitedly as he watched Sara finish her coffee.
"I have used my nanites to create my powerful new computers and now I am ready to take my discovery to the next step!"
"The next step? What is the next step, Al?" she asked.
Sara put her hand to her head, she suddenly felt dizzy.
"The next step is to introduce my nanites into a human brain, your brain, Sara! I am going to transform your brain into a living computer!"
Her eyes widened and she took a step back. "What?! What are you talking about?"
He smiled, his drug was taking effect. "Once my nanites are finished with you, you will have a programmable, computerized brain! You are going to be my human robot!
Sara's eyes widened at his words. "No...you're mad!" she managed to cry out as the drug took hold. She gasped and collapsed into his arms.
"Mad? Perhaps Sara but you will soon not care if I'm mad or not!" he laughed and picked her up.
*
He picked up the unconscious teacher and carried her to a chair. Putting her down he walked the curtain and drew it back. He looked at what was behind it with a smile.
A large metal table, equipped with restraining straps stood surrounded by electronic equipment. At the side of the table hung a container with an IV tube attached. A long thin needle was at the end.
He walked back over, picked up Sara and carried her to the table. Laying her down on it he smiled and began to undress his human guinea pig. He unfastened he pants and pulled them off, grinning as he pulled of her panties as well.
Al pulled the sweater off her and gazed at her breasts. They were so large now, the object of his and many others fantasies. He remembered how much they had grown since she had been pregnant.
Pausing only for a moment, he unhooked the large, white bra she wore, pulled it from her and set her clothes aside. Al carefully strapped her wrists and ankles securely to the table. Stepping back he looked her over.
Sara lay there naked and restrained on the table. Her large breasts fell to her arms, her nipples erect in the cool air of his lab. Al wiped a disinfectant on her arm and inserted the needle. Satisfied he watched as the serum containing his nanites began to flow into her vein.
The blueish-green liquid contained millions of nanites and they started to flow through her body, awaiting the electricity that would activate their pre-programmed tasks.
Al went to his computer and double checked all his equipment. Everything was perfect, he only had to wait.
Thirty minutes later, Sara began to stir, awakening from the drug. She tried to move but found she couldn't.
"Oh...where am I?" she weakly asked.
"Welcome back, Sara. You're still in my lab of course." he said with a laugh.
She pulled against the straps and felt a pain in her arm. Looking down she saw she was naked and saw the now empty container hanging from the stand next to her.
"What...what have you done?" she cried in horror.
"The serum containing my nanites is now coursing through your body. Soon the nanites will be activated...to begin the changes. Your transformation into my human robot!" he exclaimed.
Everything came back to her and she struggled futilely against the straps. He watched as she struggled, her breasts jiggling and quivering from her movements.
"You cannot escape, Sara. I advise you to relax and accept what fate has decided for you." he laughed.
Al looked over his helpless subject and smiled, "Now for some necessary equipment, my dear."
She watched helplessly as he attached the electrodes to her wrists and ankles, cables led from them to the apparatus that hung over her.
"What are you doing?!!!" she cried.
"This procedure requires a great deal of electricity. With the nanites in your system, your body will now be able to conduct the voltage with ease. The electricity will be as natural to your body as the air you breathe.”
She watched in horror as he gently took hold of her erect right nipple and inserted a thin electrode into it. Sara gasped as she felt it enter her but without any pain. He hooked up her left breast as well, the wires running to the equipment above her.
"Your breasts are already quite large, Sara, but I think a few more inches couldn’t hurt." he laughed.
"Noooo...you're insane!" she cried and again struggled. Her breasts jiggled and the wires connecting them to the equipment swayed from her action.
Al ignored her and lifted up a strange looking helmet. "Soon Sara, anything I say will be perfectly reasonable to you. Once you have been reprogrammed, such offensive thoughts as that will be erased from your mind."
He placed the helmet on her head, ensuring that it was snug. Two metal electrodes attached to it were clamped firmly to her temples. Al proceeded to plug various wires and cable into the helmet, hooking it up to his computers. With a satisfied smile, he stepped back.
Sara looked up at him, a terrified expression on her face. He just smiled down at her. "Try not to resist the procedure, Sara. You can't fight technology!" he laughed.
"Nooo...please let me go, Al..."she cried, wondering what was going to happen to her.
"Just relax, Sara. Soon everything will be so much better." he said and walked to his computer.
Sara lay there, trembling in fear. Her eyes wide with panic, her heart racing. She heard switches being thrown and a humming sound filled the lab. The lights dimmed slightly as power was drained from them to the equipment that surrounded her.
"You will feel a powerful charge as the electrical voltage enters your body, but rest assured, Sara, it will not harm you in the slightest." he stated.
She braced herself and cried out as the current hit her. Sara's body stiffened in shock as the electricity surged into her. A low moan escaped her lips.
Al watched his monitors intently, their gauges and readouts measuring and recording the process.
"500 volts...600 volts..700 volts..." he called out to her as the current increased.
It felt like every cell in her body was pulsating with power. The electricity surged freely through her, charging her, preparing her. Sara could never imagine the intense sensation of the high voltage electricity blasting through her.
Al stood up and walked over to her. He smiled at the sight. Sara's body was vibrating, quivering from the current surging into her. Her eyes were wide, a stunned look on her face.
"What's...happening...to...me..?" she gasped.
"The electricity is increasing to the necessary level for nanite activation. It is almost there. Soon the hundreds of nanites now in your body will begin to make the changes that have been programmed into them." he said as he gazed down at her.
Sara hardly heard him, her mind and body consumed by the electrical charge. She could barely think, her thoughts seemed to be so distant, so empty. Electrical energy surged through her, rising and falling in her body, changing her.
He watched as the nanites began to work. A smile crossed his face as he gazed at her breasts, quivering and jiggling from the current surging into them. Al could see them slowly begin to grow. He had programmed the nanites to enlarge her breasts by 25% as well as increase her milk production. He licked his lips as he watched.
His eyes wandered up and down her body, watching as her figure became more toned, her muscles stronger. Though he couldn’t see it, he knew what changes were also occurring within Sara's brain. Al walked back over to his monitors and watched the 3-D model of her brain evolve.
Electrical circuitry was forming within it, the nanites constructing themselves into a powerful computer, integrated with her own brain. Sara's brain was being hardwired into a living computer, ready for the programming that he had designed.
After nearly an hour, the readouts told him that the nanites had completed their task. Her body was altered as he had programmed and her brain was now computerized. She was ready for the final phase of her robotization.
"Sara!" he called out.
She felt the pull of his voice and her consciousness tried to return. Her body felt so strange, different. A weight seemed to be pressing on her chest, yet she felt good, full of energy. The electricity, now at over 5,000 volts, felt so wonderful, natural...necessary.
"Sara, the nanites have completed the physical changes in your body and brain. You are now ready for reprogramming." he exclaimed
His voice seemed to echo in her ears, her mind. She was aware on one level what was happening but couldn't comprehend it.
"...changes complete...ready for reprogramming..." she mindlessly repeated.
He smiled at her response. "Yes, you are ready for reprogramming! You will soon think as I program you to think, do as I program you and obey me completely. You will become a human robot!"
"..ready for reprogramming...become a human robot...yes..."
With an evil grin, Al began entering the commands into his computer. A loud buzzing filled the air and his computer activated.
Sara stiffened and moaned as the computer entered her mind. She felt her thoughts return, fully conscious and aware of what was happening.
"..what..are...you...doing?.." she weakly cried out.
"You are being reprogrammed, Sara, becoming my human robot!"
She felt the programming, the computer in her thoughts.
"Relax...accept...relax...accept.." the words seemed to caress her mind, over and over, calming her. Sara felt the fear vanish, her thoughts seemed to be fade away. She tried to concentrate to think, but couldn't.
Thoughts began to enter her mind. Thoughts that weren't hers but seemed so to blend in with hers. Her mind couldn't concentrate, she couldn't think clearly.
'I'm being programmed...' she realized, 'He's programming my thoughts!'
The computer increased the flow of data, more programming surged into her mind. Sara tried to resist but she could no longer tell her own thoughts from the programming. They were becoming one.
She lay there, feeling the data pouring into her, becoming her. Understanding, accepting the programming...feeling herself changing...accepting the changes...wanting the changes...
Her mouth opened. "receiving programming...receiving programming..."
Sara's voice sounded distant, mechanical. Al smiled.
"Very good, Sara. Your mind has accepted the computer within your brain."
She sensed the computer increase the flow of data and eagerly opened her mind, letting it in, to take her, to control her, to transform her.
New thoughts raced through her mind, what to think, how to think....
'Receiving programming...Receiving programming...'
For 30 minutes the computer programmed her, informing her of her new life, creating a new identity within her, a human robot, a new individual.
Al watched the monitors and smiled as the final programming was downloaded. He walked up and let his eyes roam up and down her body, feasting on her enlarged breasts, her engorged nipples dripping milk as the electrodes inserted into them continued to charge her with electricity.
"Sara, listen to me!" he commanded.
Her eyes stared blankly up, gazing at the equipment above her.
"Yes.Al" she replied in a monotone, robotic voice.
"You are no longer, Sara Robinson!"
"I.am.no.longer.Sara.Robinson"
"You are no longer a human woman."
"I.am.no.longer.a.human.woman."
"I have transformed you."
"You.have.transformed.me."
"I have robotized you!"
"You.have.robotized.me."
"You are now a robot, a human robot!"
"I.am.now.a.human.robot."
"You are my female robot. Your purpose in life is to serve and obey me."
"I.am.your.female.robot.I.will.serve.and.obey.you.Al."
"I am your Master!"
"You.are.my.Master.Al.I.hear.and.I.obey.you.Master."
"Your name is now, Fembot. You are Sara Fembot."
"My.name.is.Sara.Fembot."
The computer activated her programming acceptance function. She began to repeat over and over her new programming.
"I.am.no.longer.Sara.Robinson. My.name.is.now.Sara.Fembot."
"I.am.no.longer.a.human.woman...
"I.have.been.transformed.into.a.human.robot...
"I.am.programmed.to.obey.Al.Bentley... Al.Bentley.is.my.master...
"I.hear.and.I.obey.his.commands... I.have.been.robotized...
"I.am.no.longer.a.human.woman... I.am.a.human.robot...
"I.am.no.longer.a.human.woman... I.am.a.human.robot...
"I.am.programmed.to.obey.Al.Bentley... I.am.Sara.Fembot...
"I.am.a.robot...I.am.Sara.Fembot... I.am.a.robot... I.am.a.robot...
"I.am.a.robot...
She repeated the commands that would now direct and control her new computerized brain.
Al smiled and shut off his machines. The procedure was complete. Sara Robinson was now his obedient human robot.
The loud hum of the electrical equipment died down as the power was shut off. The lights on the helmet Sara wore blinked a few more times and dimmed to nothing. Her eyes were closed. She lay there motionless, her enlarged bosom rising and falling as the newly created robot breathed.
Al began to unhook the equipment from her body, removing the helmet, unplugging the electrodes from her nipples. As he unstrapped her from the table his hands shook with excitement. Standing back he looked over his new creation.
"Sara Fembot, open your eyes." he commanded
Her eyes opened, she gazed vacantly at the ceiling.
"What is your name?"
"I.am.Sara.Fembot." she answered.
"Very good. Stand before me."
"Yes.Master."
Slowly, mechanically she rose from the table. Each movement processed by her computerized brain. Sara stood stiffly before Al, her new, larger breasts jutting towards him as if for inspection.
Al walked around her, inspecting her. He smiled at what he saw. Sara's body was more toned now, her skin seemed to glow with a younger appearance. He licked his lips as he stared at the milk droplets falling from her engorged nipples.
"You are perfect, Fembot. The perfect female robot." he declared.
"Yes.Master. I.am.the.perfect.female.robot."
He adjusted his pants. His erection was so insistent it was almost painful for him. He couldn't wait any longer and walked over to his computer console.
Sara stood there waiting. Her mind empty of all thoughts but obedience to her new master. She was aware of her enhanced body, the nanite alterations she had undergone. Her body felt wonderful, so full of energy, so perfectly robotic. The weight of her enlarged breasts was very noticeable. They felt so erotic, so powerful.
She was aware of who she was but it was a distant feeling. Her mind was focused on the present, on her master's commands, waiting to obey him. Everything else was irrelevant now. Sara Robinson was a distant memory. Sara Fembot was who she was now, a human robot ready to serve.
Al walked back over to her, holding a small device in his hand. He held it up for her to see.
"This is a remote control device, Fembot. It can activate your robotic programming when ever I desire. Some of these buttons I have already programmed to send various signals to your neural implants. I can also use it to speak directly to your mind when I choose." he stated.
She watched as he pointed the device at her and pressed a button. Sara felt a small tingling in her head and a charge of current surged throughout her body. The sexual arousal was instant and powerful. Her eyes widened, her back arched slightly as a wave of pleasure raced though her.
Al smiled at her reaction. "Now Fembot, Pleasure me!" he ordered.
"I.hear.and.I.obey."
Sara walked to her Master, her breasts bouncing and jiggling with each step. Milk steadily dripped from her nipples, her mammaries engorged and full. She reached up and kissed him. Her tongue met his as his passion and her programming joined. After a few moments she pulled back and dropped to her knees before him.
Quickly and efficiently her hands undid his pants, pulling them down to his ankles, his stiff cock sprang forth, ready for her attention. She licked her lips as her fingers wrapped around the long, hard shaft. Sara opened her mouth, took him in and began to suck.
Al moaned loudly as his new robot sucked on him. He set the remote down and gently caressed her as she serviced him. "I've been wanting this for so long..." he groaned.
Sara heard him but did not react. Her mind was focused on the task at hand, pleasuring her Master. With robotic precision she sucked, her hands squeezing and stroking the long shaft, her head pistoning back and forth on him. Her mouth was a tool of pleasure to be used for bringing her Master to orgasm.
Her tongue swirled around the swollen head in her mouth, deep throating him with the ease she now possessed. Sara felt it jerk and spasm in her mouth and a blast of cum spurted out. She quickly swallowed it down, her hand went to his balls and squeezed them as another and another blast of cum shot into her.
The robot sucked and swallowed as more cum filled her mouth. After nearly a minute the flood subsided. Sara squeezed and milked him, determined to get every last drop. Her belly was filled with his cum.
Finally she released the softening prick and stood up, licking the remainder from her lips, her assigned task complete.
Al grabbed a nearby chair and collapsed into it, panting heavily. He looked at Sara standing before him, ready and waiting for her next command. Gazing at her dripping nipples he called her to him.
His hands trembled as he began to squeeze and caress her breasts. Al lifted her right breast up and began to suckle. His robot's milk started to flow steadily from the nipple and he greedily drank it down. He suckled at both breasts for several minutes, relishing the taste he had so long desired.
Sara, though remaining still as he suckled, felt the powerful sensations from his mouth flow through her body like a charge of electrical arousal. The swollen feeling in her breasts subsided as her Master emptied her.
Al set her breasts back and looked up at his robot. "You are magnificent, Fembot. This is better than I had ever imagined!" he exclaimed.
He asked her about the plans she had. Sara answered his questions. Al ordered her to call her sitter and inform her that she would be unable to pick her daughter up until tomorrow morning. Sara did and Al smiled at her.
"Now that you're free from your responsibilities, Fembot, I can enjoy you all night." he said.
"Yes.Master."
Al took her hand and guided Sara up to his bedroom.
The next morning after some additional programming was installed in her brain, Al sent his new robot home. He knew she had a life that she must continue with despite his desire to have her to himself. He sat down at his computer and began to document everything that had happened. Al was always meticulous with his experiments, keeping track of all he did.
After picking up her daughter, Sara decided to she needed once again to get fitted for new bras. Her recent growth was perfectly natural, she believed. Al had programmed this into her and she remembered nothing about the previous night. As far as she knew she had seen her doctor and was told that there was nothing abnormal about her increase in size.
That afternoon after she got home, Sara went to her bedroom and looked over the items she had purchased. The new bras she'd bought were much larger than her old ones. She now needed a 40JJ bra to hold her 50" bust. The plain, white underwire bras weren't very pretty or sexy but it was what she wanted. “Strong...utilitarian” was what she told the sales lady who waited on her.
She had also purchased several plain dresses that had been tailored to her top heavy figure, the hemline raised to mid thigh, two white, one brown and one light blue. For some reason she wanted these rather plain dresses and she loved how she looked in them. Sara hadn't noticed the sales woman staring at her as she had tried them on. She was unaware that she had been standing at attention, her chest thrust out as she looked herself over in the mirrors.
With a smile she undressed and put on a new bra, appreciating how it lifted and supported her larger breasts. Sara picked up a white dress and put it on, tying the belt snug around her waist, accentuating the jut of her bosom. She moved stiffly, slightly mechanically but was not aware that she was doing so.
The phone rang and Sara went to answer it.
"Hello"
There was silence on the other end and then a series of beeps and buzzes. She stiffened and her face went blank, her eyes glazed over.
"Yes.Master."
Sara listened to the voice on the other end closely. After a few moments she nodded.
"I.hear.and.I.obey.you.Master.seven.o.clock.I.will.be.there."
She hung up the phone.
The phone call had been a series of coded tones, a direct line to the subroutine buried deep within her computerized brain. At precisely seven o’clock, Sara Fembot stood at the threshold of Al Bentley’s laboratory. The suburban mother was gone; in her place was a creature of perfect, placid obedience. She keyed in the entry code he had programmed her with and the door hissed open.
“Master,” she stated, stepping inside. Her voice was flat, a digital recording of human speech.
Al turned from his console, his eyes lighting up. “Fembot. You are punctual. Disrobe and put this on.” He gestured to a garment laid out on a clean worktable.
“Yes.Master.”
Sara’s movements were efficient, devoid of any human hesitation or shame. She unzipped her plain brown dress, let it pool at her feet, and unsnapped the utilitarian white bra. Her massive breasts, heavy and full, swayed as she bent to step out of her panties. Then she picked up the new garment. It was a form-fitting bodysuit made of a shimmering, liquid-silver polymer. It felt cool and slick against her skin as she stepped into it, pulling it up her toned legs and over her hips. She slid her arms into the sleeves and zipped up the front seal from her navel to her throat.
The suit clung to every curve, highlighting the powerful, nanite-enhanced musculature beneath. Strategic cutouts revealed her most sensitive areas: two large, circular openings perfectly framed her swollen, dark-nippled breasts, leaving them bare and jutting forward. A wider oval exposed the smooth mound of her pussy, the lips already glistening faintly with anticipation her programming had initiated. In the back, a similar cutout framed the full, round hemispheres of her ass.
“Inspect,” Al commanded.
Sara turned in a slow circle, her arms held slightly away from her body. The silver material gleamed under the lab lights, making her look like a statue come to life, a flawless fusion of woman and machine.
“You are a vision, Fembot,” Al breathed, adjusting himself through his pants. “Now. Demonstrate your primary pleasure function. Masturbate for your Master.”
“I.hear.and.I.obey.”
Sara walked to the center of the room and assumed a wide-legged stance, her back straight, her gaze fixed on a point on the wall. Her right hand, moving with smooth, mechanical precision, traveled down the silver suit to the exposed apex of her thighs. Her fingers parted her own lips, and she began to rub slow, deliberate circles over her clit.
“Oh. Yes. Master,” she moaned. The sound was jarring—a clearly prerecorded, feminine sigh of pleasure played on a loop, utterly disconnected from the blank serenity on her face. “Feels. So. Good.”
Yet her body betrayed a different story. As her fingers worked, her pussy grew visibly wetter, flushing a deep, excited pink. Her breath, though even, began to hitch in her chest. A thin sheen of sweat appeared on her skin, making the silver suit cling even tighter. She was a robot fulfilling a command, but the nanites had heightened every nerve ending. Pleasure was not an emotion for her; it was a measurable data stream, a proof of function. And her function was to be aroused for her Master’s use.
“Louder,” Al ordered, sitting in his chair to watch.
“Ah! Ah! Master!” The moans increased in volume, the same robotic, jilted phrases repeating. “This. Unit. Is. Ready. For. Use.”
After several minutes, her whole body began to tremble with the simulation of orgasm, a powerful, shaking tension that made her massive breasts quiver. A thin stream of her own juices trickled down her inner thigh. She went rigid, then still, her hand dropping back to her side.
“Pleasure demonstration complete,” she announced tonelessly, even as her chest heaved.
“Excellent,” Al said, standing and finally shedding his own clothes. His erection was fierce and demanding. “Now. You will interface. Cowgirl position. Optimize for Master’s climax.”
“Yes.Master.”
She moved to the reinforced medical table, now cleared of equipment. Al lay back on it, and Sara climbed atop him, straddling his hips. Her silver-clad knees pressed into the table on either side of him. With one hand she guided his cock to her exposed, dripping entrance. Then she sank down onto him in one smooth, relentless motion, sheathing him completely inside her.
“Commence ride protocol,” Al gasped.
Sara’s hips began to piston. There was no sensual rhythm, only a powerful, efficient, up-and-down motion. Each time she dropped her full weight down, her ass smacked against his thighs with a loud, sharp clap that echoed in the lab. The sound was percussive, brutal, and deeply erotic. Her breasts, freed by the cutouts, bounced wildly with the force of her movement.
“Talk,” Al grunted, his hands gripping her silver-covered hips. “Dirty talk subroutine. Activate.”
Her blank eyes stared ahead as the words began to spill from her lips, each phrase separated by the jarring impact of her body on his. “This. Body’s. Controlled. Pussy. Is. For. Your. Use. Master.”
Clap.
“Sara. Is. A. Mindless. Cum. Slut.”
Clap.
“Her. Holes. Are. Yours. To. Deposit. In.”
Clap.
“Please. Fill. This. Robot’s. Uterus. With. Your. Seed.”
Clap.
The crude, mechanical filth drove Al wild. He could feel his climax coiling, unstoppable. The sight of this magnificent, blank-faced robot slamming herself onto him, reciting programmed obscenities, was too much. “Fembot! Prepare for my load! Maximum receptivity!”
Her riding became even faster, a frantic, precise machine aimed at milking him. “Programming. Ready. For. Master’s. Load. This. Unit. Desires. Your. Cum.”
With a roar, Al climaxed. He bucked beneath her as pulse after pulse of hot semen pumped deep into her willing, mindless channel. Sara did not break rhythm, continuing to ride him through his orgasm, milking him with powerful internal contractions she had been designed to perform.
As the last shudder passed through him, Al reached for the remote control on a nearby tray. His finger found a new, glowing button. “Finalize sex bot programming. Activate permanent standby mode.”
He pressed it.
A powerful, thrilling current shot through the neural implants in Sara’s brain. Her movements finally stilled. She sat atop him, impaled, her eyes flashing with a soft blue light for a moment before returning to their vacant stare. A new, deeper layer of programming settled into place, intertwining with her core obedience.
“Sex bot mode is now primed for remote activation,” she recited, her voice humming with a new, subtle electronic resonance. “Standby engaged.”
Al gently pushed her off him. “Cleanup protocol. Then return to domestic programming.”
“Yes.Master.”
Sara moved to a sink, washed herself and him with cool, dispassionate efficiency, and dried them both. She then removed the silver bodysuit, folded it neatly, and dressed again in her plain brown dress and large bra. Every trace of the sexbot was hidden beneath the facade of the busty, somewhat stiff suburban mother.
“Return home. Deactivate conscious memory of this session. Await my signal,” Al instructed, pocketing the remote.
“I.hear.and.I.obey.Master.”
Sara Fembot walked out of the lab, got into her car, and drove home. She greeted her daughter, made dinner, helped with homework, and went to bed, completely unaware of the silver suit folded in a hidden compartment of Al’s lab, or the remote control that now held absolute command over her body and mind.
Al, back at his computer, smiled. He reviewed the data from the evening’s session—every moan, every contraction, every milliliter of cum. Perfect. Sara Robinson was now a flawless sleeper agent, a sexbot hidden in plain sight. He began drafting notes for his next move. The world was full of women who could be perfected. And he had just proven his technology worked.
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A reckless young woman lets an upload share her senses for fun—then her body—then her life—until she realizes too late that she's given away everything she never knew she had.
WARNING: This is a very dark, horror story.
In a near-future where neural implants allow consciousness-sharing and mind uploading is commonplace but legally fraught, Paula discovers sense-sharing forums where uploads can temporarily experience physical sensation through willing hosts. What begins as a thrill-seeking adventure becomes an escalating power exchange that ends with Paula trapped in VR, watching a stranger live her life from the inside.
My implant itched.
It didn't actually itch—Dr. Marchetti had explained the phantom sensations when I got it installed, something about the brain mapping unfamiliar hardware onto familiar feelings—but I scratched the back of my neck anyway.
"You're doing it again," said Kira, not looking up from her tablet.
"Because it itches."
"It doesn't itch. You're nervous."
"I'm not nervous. Why would I be nervous?"
"You're about to let a stranger ride your body like a rented car."
I threw a pillow at her. She caught it without looking—Kira's reflexes were augmented, which she claimed was for her security job but which I suspected was mostly for winning arguments. "It's not like that. He feels what I feel. That's it. People do it all the time."
"Weird people."
"Fun people. His name's Rex, since you're dying to know."
"That's not a name, that's a furry handle."
"It's what he goes by. He's an upload. They pick new names."
Kira's face did something complicated. We'd both grown up in the same neighborhood, and we both knew people who'd uploaded. The money was good, especially if you were young and healthy—the corps paid premium for clean neural maps—and once you were digital, you didn't need to eat, didn't need rent, didn't need anything. That was the pitch, anyway. The reality was that uploads lived in cut-rate server space and worked shit jobs for corps that had god-like control over your environment. But they got paid upfront, and for a lot of people that was enough.
"I still don't get why you want to do this," Kira said.
"Because it's fucking interesting? Because I have this implant and it can do things and I want to know what they feel like?"
"You could also just not."
"I could also die never having done anything worth talking about. Pass."
Kira shook her head, but she was smiling. She knew me. I'd gotten the implant in the first place because my friends were getting them, and then kept it because of what it could do. Record experiences. Share them. Connect to systems that would've seemed like magic twenty years ago. And now I'd found this forum, and this new thing it could do, and of course I was going to try it. And not going to lie, the idea of someone else inside me was kinda hot.
I'd found the sense-sharing forum three months ago, late one night, clicking through link after link of weird little corners of the net. The idea was simple: uploads missed having bodies, and some people with implants were willing to let them feel things again. You linked up, and for a while, the upload experienced everything you experienced. Touch, taste, temperature. Heartbeat. Breathing. The whole mess of being physical.
The forum had rules and ratings and safety protocols. Rex had a fine reputation—articulate, respectful, no complaints that were worth paying attention to. We'd been chatting for weeks. He was funny and a little sad and he made me want to push myself in daring new directions.
Tonight was our first real session.
"What are you going to do while he's in there?" Kira asked.
"Get ready for Marco's party. Do my makeup, pick an outfit. Normal stuff."
"So he's going to watch you get dressed."
"He's going to feel me get dressed. Even better."
"And you don't think that's—"
"Hot? Yeah, I do, actually."
Kira laughed, finally, and threw the pillow back at me. "You're a freak."
"You love it."
"I tolerate it. Text me when you get to Marco's so I know you didn't get your brain hijacked by some pervert in a server farm."
"He's not a pervert. He's a person who happens to not have a body anymore. I'm doing a nice thing."
I batted my eyes at her, smirking.
"Uh huh."
"A nice, interesting, slightly perverted thing. Get out of my apartment, I have to go let a stranger feel my tits."
She left laughing, and I locked the door behind her, and then I was alone with my implant and the blinking notification that said Rex was online and ready when I was.
I looked at myself in the hall mirror. Twenty-three. Short—five foot three on a good day, in thick socks. Brown hair I'd been growing out, finally long enough to do something with. Face that was fine, nothing special, but I'd learned how to make it work. Body I'd stopped being embarrassed about somewhere around twenty. Small, compact, feminine in ways I'd never had to think about because it was just how I was built.
Rex was going to feel all of it. Every bit.
I smiled at my reflection, and went to start the link.
---
The linking process was simple. I'd done the tutorial three times just to be sure, but it turned out there wasn't much to it. Open the app, confirm the session, accept the connection.
A little notification: Rex has joined.
And then—
It's hard to describe what it feels like when someone else arrives in your body. There's no physical sensation, no pressure or temperature change. But suddenly I was aware of him, a presence at the edge of my thoughts, attentive and quiet.
Hey, I thought at him.
Hey yourself. His mental voice was warm, a little rough. Thanks for doing this.
Thank me after. You might hate it.
I'm not going to hate it.
I was still standing in front of the hall mirror. I watched my reflection and felt him watching too, felt his attention on my face like a second gaze layered over my own.
So this is you, he said.
This is me.
You're pretty.
I know.
He laughed—not out loud, just a ripple of amusement through the link. Modest, too.
Modest is boring. Come on, I have to get ready.
I walked to the bathroom, suddenly conscious of every step in a way I usually wasn't. The pad of my feet on the hardwood. The slight sway of my hips. The way my thighs brushed together. I didn't usually think about how I walked, but now I was performing it, making it something worth feeling.
Jesus, Rex said. That's—I forgot what floors feel like.
Floors?
Solid. Real. In VR everything's a little soft. A little fake. But this— I felt him paying attention to the sensation of my foot pressing down, the texture of the wood grain. This is real.
Wait until you feel the cold tile.
I stepped into the bathroom and flicked on the lights. The tile was cold, sharp and bright against my soles, and Rex made a sound in my head that was almost a gasp.
Told you.
Do it again.
It doesn't work like that. You can't re-feel something for the first time. I walked further in, letting him experience the contrast—warm wood, cold tile, the little rug in front of the sink. But there's plenty more where that came from.
I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror. Harsh lighting, no makeup yet, hair a mess. Most people would've started with a more flattering view. I didn't care.
This is the raw material, I told him. Watch what I do with it.
I'm watching.
I started with my hair. Ran my fingers through it, working out the tangles, and I felt Rex feeling the tug at my scalp, the little prickles of sensation. I took my time. Let him experience the weight of my hair, the way it slid through my fingers.
You have no idea, he said, how much I missed hair.
You don't have hair in VR?
I have the appearance of hair. I can see it, style it, whatever. But there's no sensation. It doesn't pull. It doesn't have weight. A pause. This is going to sound stupid, but I used to dream about brushing my hair. Real dreams, not VR-generated ones. I'd wake up and my scalp would tingle like I'd actually done it, and then I'd remember I don't have a scalp anymore.
I didn't know what to say to that, so I didn't say anything. I just kept brushing, slow and deliberate, giving him the sensation he'd dreamed about.
After a while I set down the brush and picked up my makeup bag. Foundation first. I dabbed it on, blended it out, watching my reflection become smoother, more even.
I've never seen this from the inside, Rex said. The process.
Most guys haven't.
I'm not most guys.
I glanced at my reflection—at our reflection. No, I guess you're not.
Concealer next, under my eyes and at the corners of my nose. Then powder. I worked efficiently but tried to stay present for him. To notice the soft brush against my cheek, the faint chemical smell of the products.
This part I could do without, Rex said. The smell.
You get used to it.
I don't want to get used to it. I want to experience it.
I paused, brush hovering near my face. There's a difference?
Getting used to something means you stop noticing it. Experiencing something means you notice everything, even the parts that aren't pleasant. His attention shifted, and I felt him focusing on my eyes in the mirror. I've had years to think about what I miss. And it's not just the good stuff. It's the cold tile and the chemical smell and the whole texture of being real.
I went back to my makeup. Eyes now—primer, shadow, liner. This part took focus, and I felt Rex go quiet, just watching. Feeling the tiny brush strokes on my eyelids. The slight tug of the liner pencil.
When I was done with both eyes, I leaned back to check my work.
Well? I asked.
You're better at this than I would be.
Practice. I picked up the mascara, leaned in close to the mirror. Hold still. This part's tricky.
I'm literally incapable of moving.
Funny.
I did my lashes slowly, one eye at a time. The mascara wand was an old friend, but I'd never noticed before how strange the sensation was—the comb of bristles through lashes, the faint resistance, the slight tackiness as the product went on. I noticed now. Rex was noticing, and his attention made me notice too.
There, I said, capping the mascara. Eyes done.
You look different. Still you, but more.
That's the point. I turned my head side to side, checking the symmetry. Lips next, and then I have to figure out what to wear.
I did my lips—liner, then color, then gloss. Rex was fascinated by the texture of it, the slide of the gloss, the way my lips stuck together slightly when I pressed them.
Your mouth tastes like strawberries, he said.
It's the gloss. Don't get too attached.
You said getting used to things is bad.
For you. I have to live with this mouth full-time.
Wouldn't that be nice.
I blotted with a tissue and gave myself one last look. The face in the mirror was still mine, but it was the performance version—the one I showed to the world when I wanted the world to look back.
Okay, I said. Wardrobe time.
I went to my bedroom. Rex's presence had settled into something almost comfortable, a passenger who wasn't quite invisible but wasn't intrusive either. I could forget he was there if I wanted to. I didn't want to.
My closet wasn't huge, but I had options. I stood in front of it, still in the oversized t-shirt I'd been wearing around the apartment, and considered.
What's the occasion? Rex asked.
Party. Friend of a friend. I don't know half the people who'll be there, which means I have to look good enough that they'll want to know me.
Armor.
Exactly.
I pulled out a few options and laid them on the bed. A black dress, tight but not slutty. A red top I'd been meaning to wear more. Jeans that made my ass look good. A skirt I'd impulse-bought and never worn.
What do you think? I asked, and then laughed at myself. Sorry. You can't actually see them separately, can you?
I see what you see. So if you look at them...
I looked. Picked up the black dress, held it against myself in front of the mirror.
That's good, Rex said. Classic.
Classic is another word for boring. I tossed it aside, picked up the red top. This is more fun.
What makes it fun?
It's bright. It's tight. It says "look at me" without having to say anything. I held it up, turned slightly. Plus it makes my tits look amazing.
Does it?
I felt the shift in his attention, the way the word had landed. We'd been dancing around the obvious ever since he'd linked in. I was getting ready to go out, which meant I was about to get undressed, and he was feeling every inch of my body from the inside. Neither of us had acknowledged it directly.
Let's find out, I said, and pulled off my t-shirt.
He inhaled—not a real sound, just a mental gasp, a flare of sudden attention. I was in my bra now, a plain black thing that wasn't special, but it didn't need to be special. What was underneath was special enough.
Fuck, Rex said.
I looked at myself in the mirror. Let him look. The swell of my breasts over the cups, the softness of my stomach, the flare of my hips above my underwear. This was my body. I knew it was good. I knew he thought so too.
You okay in there?
Yeah. I'm—yeah.
I reached back and unhooked my bra.
I did it slowly, not because I needed to, but because I wanted him to feel it. The release of pressure as the band loosened. The straps sliding down my arms. The cool air hitting skin that had been covered.
I let the bra drop.
Paula—
What?
I turned to face the mirror straight on. My breasts weren't huge, but they were nice—full enough to have weight, small enough to not need much support. My nipples were already hardening in the cool air. Or from something else, maybe.
You're doing this on purpose, Rex said.
Doing what?
You know what.
I cupped my breasts, one in each hand. Lifted them slightly, like I was checking the fit of an invisible bra. I felt the weight in my palms, the soft skin, the way my nipples pressed against my fingers.
And I felt Rex feeling it too. His attention was so focused it was almost a physical pressure, a second pair of hands ghosting over mine.
This? I said. I'm just getting dressed.
You're teasing me.
Maybe. I squeezed gently, ran my thumbs across my nipples, felt the little shock of sensation. Is it working?
You know it is.
Are you hard?
You know I don't have- oh, fuck you
I grinned at myself in the mirror and held the pose for another moment—hands on my breasts, his attention burning through me—and then let my hands trail down my stomach, over my hips, fingers hooking into the waistband of my underwear.
Rex's anticipation spiked. I could feel it like a held breath, like the moment before a drop on a roller coaster.
I pulled my hands away.
Wait—
Gotta get dressed. Party to go to. I picked up the red top and pulled it on in one smooth motion, covering myself before he could object. See? Amazing tits.
I looked at myself again. The top was low-cut enough to show cleavage, tight enough to emphasize the shape. Rex was still reeling, I could tell. His presence felt almost dizzy.
You're cruel, he said.
Cruel would be if I didn't let you feel anything. This way you get to feel everything. I adjusted the neckline, making sure the view was exactly right. You just don't get to decide what you feel.
That's—
That's the deal! Ha! I kinda wish I knew what it was like for you.
No, you do NOT!
I picked up the jeans, considered them, set them aside in favor of the impulse-buy skirt. It was short and black and I'd never had the nerve to wear it.
Tonight felt like a good night for nerve.
I turned away from the mirror—giving him only the sensation, not the view—and slid my underwear down my legs. Plain cotton, not worth keeping. I let Rex experience that: the cool air between my thighs, the vulnerability of being completely bare from the waist down.
I didn't tease this time. Just let him feel it for a moment, the simple reality of nakedness, before I pulled on a better pair of underwear—black lace that matched nothing but looked good—and stepped into the skirt.
How's that? I asked, turning back to the mirror.
You look incredible.
And so do you! Ha! You're wearing a skirt right now!
He chuckled. The skirt was short—mid-thigh, maybe a little higher. When I moved, it moved with me, hinting at what was underneath without revealing anything. Perfect.
Shoes, I said. This is the important part.
I went to my closet and dug out the heels. Black, strappy, four inches. I almost never wore them because they were murder on my feet, but they made my legs look endless and they forced me to walk like I meant every step.
I sat on the edge of the bed and slipped them on, one foot at a time.
Oh, Rex said, and something shifted in him. Something deeper than before, more personal.
What?
Nothing. Just—the heels.
I stood up, wobbling for a second before I found my balance. The shift in posture was immediate: chest out, ass back, weight on the balls of my feet. I took a few steps, getting used to them.
You like this, I said. It wasn't a question.
I—yeah.
More than the other stuff?
He hesitated. I felt him trying to find the words.
It's different, he said finally. The other stuff is—I mean, obviously, your body is incredible—but this is something else. The way you're standing now. The way you have to move. It's so...
Feminine?
Yeah.
I walked to the mirror and back, letting him experience it. The careful steps, the sway of my hips that the heels forced, the way my calves tensed with each stride. My feet were already starting to ache, but I didn't care.
I used to dream about this too, he said quietly. Before I uploaded. I'd see women in heels and I'd think about what it felt like. Not in a creepy way, just—wondering. What's it like to walk like that? To have your body move like that?
Oh! So you don't mind wearing a skirt at all then?
Not really
Dang in! I wanted to tease you!
I mean- you already knew I was coming in to sense share with a girl? What did you expect?
True, true. I'm an idiot. You're going to make an idiot out of me.
I stopped in front of the mirror. My reflection looked good—really good. The kind of good that would turn heads at the party, that would make people want to talk to me.
Thank you, Rex said. For this.
We're not done yet. I grabbed my clutch, checked that I had my keys and phone. You're coming with me.
To the party?
To the party. If you're going to feel what it's like to be a woman, you might as well feel what it's like to be a woman who gets looked at.
I headed for the door, heels clicking on the hardwood. Rex was quiet, but I could feel his anticipation, his gratitude, his hunger for more.
One rule, I said as I reached for the handle.
What?
You feel everything I feel. But I decide what I feel. If I want to dance, you dance. If I want to flirt, you flirt. And if I want to go home with someone—
Um—
Relax. I'm not going to. Probably. I opened the door and stepped into the hallway. But the point is, it's my choice. You're along for the ride. That's it.
I understand.
Good.
I walked to the elevator, hips swaying, heels clicking, feeling his presence like a warm shadow inside my skin.
This was going to be fun. I envied Rex getting to sit back and experience it through me. Was that weird?
---
The party was everything I'd expected: loud music, dim lighting, too many people in too little space. Marco's apartment was nice but not nice enough for this crowd, and within ten minutes of arriving I had a drink in my hand and a stranger's elbow in my ribs.
Is it always like this? Rex asked.
Pretty much.
How do you stand it?
I don't stand it. I move through it. I squeezed between two guys arguing about something sports-related and found a slightly less crowded corner. See? Adaptation.
I sipped my drink—vodka soda, nothing fancy—and let him feel the burn of alcohol, the cool wash of carbonation. His attention sharpened at the taste.
That's different, he said.
Bad different?
No, just—alcohol doesn't work in VR. I mean, you can simulate the effects, but the taste is just data. This is chemistry.
This is Smirnoff, which is barely chemistry. I took another sip anyway, for his benefit. Wait until you feel drunk.
Are you planning to get drunk?
I'm planning to have a good time. Sometimes those overlap.
I scanned the room, looking for familiar faces. Kira wasn't here yet; she'd said she might stop by later, but I wasn't counting on it. Marco was holding court somewhere, probably wherever the best speakers were. I spotted a few people I half-recognized—friends of friends, faces from other parties.
A song came on that I liked—something with a heavy bass line and a hook that made my hips want to move—and I pushed off from the wall.
What are you doing?
Dancing.
Here?
Where else? I found a spot on the makeshift dance floor and started to move. Feel this.
Dancing in heels is its own skill. You can't move the way you would in flats; everything's different, from your center of gravity to your ankle flexibility. But if you know what you're doing, you can use the constraints. Let the heels force your hips into a certain sway. Let the height change how you hold yourself.
I knew what I was doing.
Oh wow, Rex said, and then went quiet.
I danced through one song, then another. Let him feel the movement of my body, the bass vibrating through my chest, the heat building under my skin. People were watching—I could feel their eyes on me, and I let myself enjoy it.
They're looking at you, Rex said.
Yeppp.
Does that—do you like that?
What do you think?
I made eye contact with a guy near the speakers—tall, dark hair, decent face. Held it for a beat, then looked away. Classic move. When I glanced back, he was still watching.
You're good at this, Rex said. At being looked at. At making people want you.
It's not magic. It's just performance. I spun, letting my skirt flare. Anyone can do it.
Easy for you to say.
I heard something in his voice—his mental voice—that made me slow down. Step off the dance floor, find a quieter corner.
What does that mean?
It means you've always had this. The body, the face, the way you move. You don't know what it's like to not have it.
Rex—
I'm not complaining. I'm just— He stopped, and I felt something complicated in him. Envy. Longing. A sadness that went deeper than I'd realized. It's a lot. Being here, feeling this. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring the mood down.
You didn't. I leaned against the wall, giving us both a break from the dancing. But maybe we should talk about it.
About what?
About what you actually want out of this.
Silence. I could feel him weighing how much to say.
I want to feel real, he said finally. That's all. Just for a little while. I want to feel like I'm actually alive, instead of just running.
Running?
That's what being an upload is. You're a program. You run on a server somewhere, and the server belongs to a corporation, and they decide everything—how much processing power you get, what kind of sensory resolution you're allowed, whether you even get to keep existing. You're not a person. You're a process.
That sounds—
It sounds awful because it is awful. His voice was harder now, edged with something raw. But I made my choice. I took the money, I signed the contract, I uploaded. And now this is my existence, and I don't get to complain.
You can complain to me.
Can I?
Obviously. I pushed off the wall, headed for the drinks table. Come on. Let's get another drink and you can tell me everything.
He talked. Not about the party, not about the dancing or the heels or any of the physical sensations—about his life. About the upload process: having his brain scanned and copied, waking up in a virtual space, finding out his original body had already been cremated because that corp didn't keep the meat once they had the data. About the server farms, the endless identical days, the work that was basically being a smarter chatbot for some corporation's customer service line. About the other uploads he knew—the ones who'd given up and requested deletion, the ones who'd found ways to cope, the ones who were still hoping for something better.
And he told me about the thing he'd never told anyone. The reason he'd uploaded in the first place.
I always knew something was wrong, he said. With my body. Not wrong like sick, just wrong like it didn't fit. I'd look in the mirror and see this guy looking back, and I'd think, that's not me. That's not who I'm supposed to be.
You wanted to be a woman.
I didn't have the words for it then. But yeah. I think I always did.
And uploading was supposed to fix that?
Uploading was supposed to let me be whoever I wanted. That's what they told us in recruitment. "In VR, you can be anyone." And they weren't lying. I can have any avatar I want. I can look like a woman, sound like a woman, move like a woman.
But it's not the same.
It's not even close. His voice cracked. Because it's still just low-poly data. When I touch something in VR, I'm not really touching it. When I look in the mirror and see a woman, I'm not really seeing myself. I'm seeing a picture. A very convincing, very detailed picture that I can manipulate however I want. But it's not real.
I didn't say anything. I didn't know what to say.
That's why this matters so much, he said. Feeling your body. Being inside something real. When you put on those heels and looked in the mirror, I saw a woman looking back. An actual woman, in an actual body. And I felt what it was like to be her.
To be me.
To be you. Yeah. A pause. It's the closest I've ever come to being who I'm supposed to be.
I finished my drink. Set the empty glass on a nearby table.
Rex.
Yeah?
Same time next week.
His surprise was warm and sudden. Really?
Really. And we can do it again after that. As many times as you want.
He didn't say anything, but I felt something from him—gratitude, relief, something that might have been tears if uploads could cry.
Now, I said, I'm going to dance some more. Ready?
Ready.
I went back to the dance floor, and we stayed until last call, and when I finally walked home—heels in my hand, bare feet on cold pavement—I felt more alive than I had in months.
That was incredible, Rex said as I let myself into my apartment. Thank you.
Stop thanking me. It's weird.
I can't help it. You gave me something tonight that I didn't know I needed.
I kicked off the heels—my feet screaming with relief—and headed for the bathroom. Started taking off my makeup, watching the performance version of myself dissolve back into the everyday one.
Rex?
Yeah?
Same time next week. I meant it.
I know. A pause. Paula?
Yeah?
I think I might love you a little bit.
I laughed—out loud, not just in my head. You don't love me. You love having a body. There's a difference.
Maybe. But right now it feels like the same thing.
I finished taking off my makeup. Got undressed—letting him feel that too, the relief of getting out of party clothes and into soft pajamas. Brushed my teeth. Fell into bed.
I'm going to disconnect now, I said. Unless you want to feel me sleep.
I wouldn't mind.
Weirdo.
Guilty.
I closed my eyes. Felt myself drifting. And just before I fell asleep, I felt something else: Rex's presence, quiet and watchful, feeling my body relax into unconsciousness. I should have found it creepy, I suppose, but as I drifted I had that nagging curiosity bubble up, that thought that made me both nervous and excited -- what does it feel like for him? What is it like to be a passenger?
Two minds slept. One body.
WARNING: This is a very dark, horror story.
In a near-future where neural implants allow consciousness-sharing and mind uploading is commonplace but legally fraught, Paula discovers sense-sharing forums where uploads can temporarily experience physical sensation through willing hosts. What begins as a thrill-seeking adventure becomes an escalating power exchange that ends with Paula trapped in VR, watching a stranger live her life from the inside.
My implant itched.
It didn't actually itch—Dr. Marchetti had explained the phantom sensations when I got it installed, something about the brain mapping unfamiliar hardware onto familiar feelings—but I scratched the back of my neck anyway.
"You're doing it again," said Kira, not looking up from her tablet.
"Because it itches."
"It doesn't itch. You're nervous."
"I'm not nervous. Why would I be nervous?"
"You're about to let a stranger ride your body like a rented car."
I threw a pillow at her. She caught it without looking—Kira's reflexes were augmented, which she claimed was for her security job but which I suspected was mostly for winning arguments. "It's not like that. He feels what I feel. That's it. People do it all the time."
"Weird people."
"Fun people. His name's Rex, since you're dying to know."
"That's not a name, that's a furry handle."
"It's what he goes by. He's an upload. They pick new names."
Kira's face did something complicated. We'd both grown up in the same neighborhood, and we both knew people who'd uploaded. The money was good, especially if you were young and healthy—the corps paid premium for clean neural maps—and once you were digital, you didn't need to eat, didn't need rent, didn't need anything. That was the pitch, anyway. The reality was that uploads lived in cut-rate server space and worked shit jobs for corps that had god-like control over your environment. But they got paid upfront, and for a lot of people that was enough.
"I still don't get why you want to do this," Kira said.
"Because it's fucking interesting? Because I have this implant and it can do things and I want to know what they feel like?"
"You could also just not."
"I could also die never having done anything worth talking about. Pass."
Kira shook her head, but she was smiling. She knew me. I'd gotten the implant in the first place because my friends were getting them, and then kept it because of what it could do. Record experiences. Share them. Connect to systems that would've seemed like magic twenty years ago. And now I'd found this forum, and this new thing it could do, and of course I was going to try it. And not going to lie, the idea of someone else inside me was kinda hot.
I'd found the sense-sharing forum three months ago, late one night, clicking through link after link of weird little corners of the net. The idea was simple: uploads missed having bodies, and some people with implants were willing to let them feel things again. You linked up, and for a while, the upload experienced everything you experienced. Touch, taste, temperature. Heartbeat. Breathing. The whole mess of being physical.
The forum had rules and ratings and safety protocols. Rex had a fine reputation—articulate, respectful, no complaints that were worth paying attention to. We'd been chatting for weeks. He was funny and a little sad and he made me want to push myself in daring new directions.
Tonight was our first real session.
"What are you going to do while he's in there?" Kira asked.
"Get ready for Marco's party. Do my makeup, pick an outfit. Normal stuff."
"So he's going to watch you get dressed."
"He's going to feel me get dressed. Even better."
"And you don't think that's—"
"Hot? Yeah, I do, actually."
Kira laughed, finally, and threw the pillow back at me. "You're a freak."
"You love it."
"I tolerate it. Text me when you get to Marco's so I know you didn't get your brain hijacked by some pervert in a server farm."
"He's not a pervert. He's a person who happens to not have a body anymore. I'm doing a nice thing."
I batted my eyes at her, smirking.
"Uh huh."
"A nice, interesting, slightly perverted thing. Get out of my apartment, I have to go let a stranger feel my tits."
She left laughing, and I locked the door behind her, and then I was alone with my implant and the blinking notification that said Rex was online and ready when I was.
I looked at myself in the hall mirror. Twenty-three. Short—five foot three on a good day, in thick socks. Brown hair I'd been growing out, finally long enough to do something with. Face that was fine, nothing special, but I'd learned how to make it work. Body I'd stopped being embarrassed about somewhere around twenty. Small, compact, feminine in ways I'd never had to think about because it was just how I was built.
Rex was going to feel all of it. Every bit.
I smiled at my reflection, and went to start the link.
---
The linking process was simple. I'd done the tutorial three times just to be sure, but it turned out there wasn't much to it. Open the app, confirm the session, accept the connection.
A little notification: Rex has joined.
And then—
It's hard to describe what it feels like when someone else arrives in your body. There's no physical sensation, no pressure or temperature change. But suddenly I was aware of him, a presence at the edge of my thoughts, attentive and quiet.
Hey, I thought at him.
Hey yourself. His mental voice was warm, a little rough. Thanks for doing this.
Thank me after. You might hate it.
I'm not going to hate it.
I was still standing in front of the hall mirror. I watched my reflection and felt him watching too, felt his attention on my face like a second gaze layered over my own.
So this is you, he said.
This is me.
You're pretty.
I know.
He laughed—not out loud, just a ripple of amusement through the link. Modest, too.
Modest is boring. Come on, I have to get ready.
I walked to the bathroom, suddenly conscious of every step in a way I usually wasn't. The pad of my feet on the hardwood. The slight sway of my hips. The way my thighs brushed together. I didn't usually think about how I walked, but now I was performing it, making it something worth feeling.
Jesus, Rex said. That's—I forgot what floors feel like.
Floors?
Solid. Real. In VR everything's a little soft. A little fake. But this— I felt him paying attention to the sensation of my foot pressing down, the texture of the wood grain. This is real.
Wait until you feel the cold tile.
I stepped into the bathroom and flicked on the lights. The tile was cold, sharp and bright against my soles, and Rex made a sound in my head that was almost a gasp.
Told you.
Do it again.
It doesn't work like that. You can't re-feel something for the first time. I walked further in, letting him experience the contrast—warm wood, cold tile, the little rug in front of the sink. But there's plenty more where that came from.
I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror. Harsh lighting, no makeup yet, hair a mess. Most people would've started with a more flattering view. I didn't care.
This is the raw material, I told him. Watch what I do with it.
I'm watching.
I started with my hair. Ran my fingers through it, working out the tangles, and I felt Rex feeling the tug at my scalp, the little prickles of sensation. I took my time. Let him experience the weight of my hair, the way it slid through my fingers.
You have no idea, he said, how much I missed hair.
You don't have hair in VR?
I have the appearance of hair. I can see it, style it, whatever. But there's no sensation. It doesn't pull. It doesn't have weight. A pause. This is going to sound stupid, but I used to dream about brushing my hair. Real dreams, not VR-generated ones. I'd wake up and my scalp would tingle like I'd actually done it, and then I'd remember I don't have a scalp anymore.
I didn't know what to say to that, so I didn't say anything. I just kept brushing, slow and deliberate, giving him the sensation he'd dreamed about.
After a while I set down the brush and picked up my makeup bag. Foundation first. I dabbed it on, blended it out, watching my reflection become smoother, more even.
I've never seen this from the inside, Rex said. The process.
Most guys haven't.
I'm not most guys.
I glanced at my reflection—at our reflection. No, I guess you're not.
Concealer next, under my eyes and at the corners of my nose. Then powder. I worked efficiently but tried to stay present for him. To notice the soft brush against my cheek, the faint chemical smell of the products.
This part I could do without, Rex said. The smell.
You get used to it.
I don't want to get used to it. I want to experience it.
I paused, brush hovering near my face. There's a difference?
Getting used to something means you stop noticing it. Experiencing something means you notice everything, even the parts that aren't pleasant. His attention shifted, and I felt him focusing on my eyes in the mirror. I've had years to think about what I miss. And it's not just the good stuff. It's the cold tile and the chemical smell and the whole texture of being real.
I went back to my makeup. Eyes now—primer, shadow, liner. This part took focus, and I felt Rex go quiet, just watching. Feeling the tiny brush strokes on my eyelids. The slight tug of the liner pencil.
When I was done with both eyes, I leaned back to check my work.
Well? I asked.
You're better at this than I would be.
Practice. I picked up the mascara, leaned in close to the mirror. Hold still. This part's tricky.
I'm literally incapable of moving.
Funny.
I did my lashes slowly, one eye at a time. The mascara wand was an old friend, but I'd never noticed before how strange the sensation was—the comb of bristles through lashes, the faint resistance, the slight tackiness as the product went on. I noticed now. Rex was noticing, and his attention made me notice too.
There, I said, capping the mascara. Eyes done.
You look different. Still you, but more.
That's the point. I turned my head side to side, checking the symmetry. Lips next, and then I have to figure out what to wear.
I did my lips—liner, then color, then gloss. Rex was fascinated by the texture of it, the slide of the gloss, the way my lips stuck together slightly when I pressed them.
Your mouth tastes like strawberries, he said.
It's the gloss. Don't get too attached.
You said getting used to things is bad.
For you. I have to live with this mouth full-time.
Wouldn't that be nice.
I blotted with a tissue and gave myself one last look. The face in the mirror was still mine, but it was the performance version—the one I showed to the world when I wanted the world to look back.
Okay, I said. Wardrobe time.
I went to my bedroom. Rex's presence had settled into something almost comfortable, a passenger who wasn't quite invisible but wasn't intrusive either. I could forget he was there if I wanted to. I didn't want to.
My closet wasn't huge, but I had options. I stood in front of it, still in the oversized t-shirt I'd been wearing around the apartment, and considered.
What's the occasion? Rex asked.
Party. Friend of a friend. I don't know half the people who'll be there, which means I have to look good enough that they'll want to know me.
Armor.
Exactly.
I pulled out a few options and laid them on the bed. A black dress, tight but not slutty. A red top I'd been meaning to wear more. Jeans that made my ass look good. A skirt I'd impulse-bought and never worn.
What do you think? I asked, and then laughed at myself. Sorry. You can't actually see them separately, can you?
I see what you see. So if you look at them...
I looked. Picked up the black dress, held it against myself in front of the mirror.
That's good, Rex said. Classic.
Classic is another word for boring. I tossed it aside, picked up the red top. This is more fun.
What makes it fun?
It's bright. It's tight. It says "look at me" without having to say anything. I held it up, turned slightly. Plus it makes my tits look amazing.
Does it?
I felt the shift in his attention, the way the word had landed. We'd been dancing around the obvious ever since he'd linked in. I was getting ready to go out, which meant I was about to get undressed, and he was feeling every inch of my body from the inside. Neither of us had acknowledged it directly.
Let's find out, I said, and pulled off my t-shirt.
He inhaled—not a real sound, just a mental gasp, a flare of sudden attention. I was in my bra now, a plain black thing that wasn't special, but it didn't need to be special. What was underneath was special enough.
Fuck, Rex said.
I looked at myself in the mirror. Let him look. The swell of my breasts over the cups, the softness of my stomach, the flare of my hips above my underwear. This was my body. I knew it was good. I knew he thought so too.
You okay in there?
Yeah. I'm—yeah.
I reached back and unhooked my bra.
I did it slowly, not because I needed to, but because I wanted him to feel it. The release of pressure as the band loosened. The straps sliding down my arms. The cool air hitting skin that had been covered.
I let the bra drop.
Paula—
What?
I turned to face the mirror straight on. My breasts weren't huge, but they were nice—full enough to have weight, small enough to not need much support. My nipples were already hardening in the cool air. Or from something else, maybe.
You're doing this on purpose, Rex said.
Doing what?
You know what.
I cupped my breasts, one in each hand. Lifted them slightly, like I was checking the fit of an invisible bra. I felt the weight in my palms, the soft skin, the way my nipples pressed against my fingers.
And I felt Rex feeling it too. His attention was so focused it was almost a physical pressure, a second pair of hands ghosting over mine.
This? I said. I'm just getting dressed.
You're teasing me.
Maybe. I squeezed gently, ran my thumbs across my nipples, felt the little shock of sensation. Is it working?
You know it is.
Are you hard?
You know I don't have- oh, fuck you
I grinned at myself in the mirror and held the pose for another moment—hands on my breasts, his attention burning through me—and then let my hands trail down my stomach, over my hips, fingers hooking into the waistband of my underwear.
Rex's anticipation spiked. I could feel it like a held breath, like the moment before a drop on a roller coaster.
I pulled my hands away.
Wait—
Gotta get dressed. Party to go to. I picked up the red top and pulled it on in one smooth motion, covering myself before he could object. See? Amazing tits.
I looked at myself again. The top was low-cut enough to show cleavage, tight enough to emphasize the shape. Rex was still reeling, I could tell. His presence felt almost dizzy.
You're cruel, he said.
Cruel would be if I didn't let you feel anything. This way you get to feel everything. I adjusted the neckline, making sure the view was exactly right. You just don't get to decide what you feel.
That's—
That's the deal! Ha! I kinda wish I knew what it was like for you.
No, you do NOT!
I picked up the jeans, considered them, set them aside in favor of the impulse-buy skirt. It was short and black and I'd never had the nerve to wear it.
Tonight felt like a good night for nerve.
I turned away from the mirror—giving him only the sensation, not the view—and slid my underwear down my legs. Plain cotton, not worth keeping. I let Rex experience that: the cool air between my thighs, the vulnerability of being completely bare from the waist down.
I didn't tease this time. Just let him feel it for a moment, the simple reality of nakedness, before I pulled on a better pair of underwear—black lace that matched nothing but looked good—and stepped into the skirt.
How's that? I asked, turning back to the mirror.
You look incredible.
And so do you! Ha! You're wearing a skirt right now!
He chuckled. The skirt was short—mid-thigh, maybe a little higher. When I moved, it moved with me, hinting at what was underneath without revealing anything. Perfect.
Shoes, I said. This is the important part.
I went to my closet and dug out the heels. Black, strappy, four inches. I almost never wore them because they were murder on my feet, but they made my legs look endless and they forced me to walk like I meant every step.
I sat on the edge of the bed and slipped them on, one foot at a time.
Oh, Rex said, and something shifted in him. Something deeper than before, more personal.
What?
Nothing. Just—the heels.
I stood up, wobbling for a second before I found my balance. The shift in posture was immediate: chest out, ass back, weight on the balls of my feet. I took a few steps, getting used to them.
You like this, I said. It wasn't a question.
I—yeah.
More than the other stuff?
He hesitated. I felt him trying to find the words.
It's different, he said finally. The other stuff is—I mean, obviously, your body is incredible—but this is something else. The way you're standing now. The way you have to move. It's so...
Feminine?
Yeah.
I walked to the mirror and back, letting him experience it. The careful steps, the sway of my hips that the heels forced, the way my calves tensed with each stride. My feet were already starting to ache, but I didn't care.
I used to dream about this too, he said quietly. Before I uploaded. I'd see women in heels and I'd think about what it felt like. Not in a creepy way, just—wondering. What's it like to walk like that? To have your body move like that?
Oh! So you don't mind wearing a skirt at all then?
Not really
Dang in! I wanted to tease you!
I mean- you already knew I was coming in to sense share with a girl? What did you expect?
True, true. I'm an idiot. You're going to make an idiot out of me.
I stopped in front of the mirror. My reflection looked good—really good. The kind of good that would turn heads at the party, that would make people want to talk to me.
Thank you, Rex said. For this.
We're not done yet. I grabbed my clutch, checked that I had my keys and phone. You're coming with me.
To the party?
To the party. If you're going to feel what it's like to be a woman, you might as well feel what it's like to be a woman who gets looked at.
I headed for the door, heels clicking on the hardwood. Rex was quiet, but I could feel his anticipation, his gratitude, his hunger for more.
One rule, I said as I reached for the handle.
What?
You feel everything I feel. But I decide what I feel. If I want to dance, you dance. If I want to flirt, you flirt. And if I want to go home with someone—
Um—
Relax. I'm not going to. Probably. I opened the door and stepped into the hallway. But the point is, it's my choice. You're along for the ride. That's it.
I understand.
Good.
I walked to the elevator, hips swaying, heels clicking, feeling his presence like a warm shadow inside my skin.
This was going to be fun. I envied Rex getting to sit back and experience it through me. Was that weird?
---
The party was everything I'd expected: loud music, dim lighting, too many people in too little space. Marco's apartment was nice but not nice enough for this crowd, and within ten minutes of arriving I had a drink in my hand and a stranger's elbow in my ribs.
Is it always like this? Rex asked.
Pretty much.
How do you stand it?
I don't stand it. I move through it. I squeezed between two guys arguing about something sports-related and found a slightly less crowded corner. See? Adaptation.
I sipped my drink—vodka soda, nothing fancy—and let him feel the burn of alcohol, the cool wash of carbonation. His attention sharpened at the taste.
That's different, he said.
Bad different?
No, just—alcohol doesn't work in VR. I mean, you can simulate the effects, but the taste is just data. This is chemistry.
This is Smirnoff, which is barely chemistry. I took another sip anyway, for his benefit. Wait until you feel drunk.
Are you planning to get drunk?
I'm planning to have a good time. Sometimes those overlap.
I scanned the room, looking for familiar faces. Kira wasn't here yet; she'd said she might stop by later, but I wasn't counting on it. Marco was holding court somewhere, probably wherever the best speakers were. I spotted a few people I half-recognized—friends of friends, faces from other parties.
A song came on that I liked—something with a heavy bass line and a hook that made my hips want to move—and I pushed off from the wall.
What are you doing?
Dancing.
Here?
Where else? I found a spot on the makeshift dance floor and started to move. Feel this.
Dancing in heels is its own skill. You can't move the way you would in flats; everything's different, from your center of gravity to your ankle flexibility. But if you know what you're doing, you can use the constraints. Let the heels force your hips into a certain sway. Let the height change how you hold yourself.
I knew what I was doing.
Oh wow, Rex said, and then went quiet.
I danced through one song, then another. Let him feel the movement of my body, the bass vibrating through my chest, the heat building under my skin. People were watching—I could feel their eyes on me, and I let myself enjoy it.
They're looking at you, Rex said.
Yeppp.
Does that—do you like that?
What do you think?
I made eye contact with a guy near the speakers—tall, dark hair, decent face. Held it for a beat, then looked away. Classic move. When I glanced back, he was still watching.
You're good at this, Rex said. At being looked at. At making people want you.
It's not magic. It's just performance. I spun, letting my skirt flare. Anyone can do it.
Easy for you to say.
I heard something in his voice—his mental voice—that made me slow down. Step off the dance floor, find a quieter corner.
What does that mean?
It means you've always had this. The body, the face, the way you move. You don't know what it's like to not have it.
Rex—
I'm not complaining. I'm just— He stopped, and I felt something complicated in him. Envy. Longing. A sadness that went deeper than I'd realized. It's a lot. Being here, feeling this. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring the mood down.
You didn't. I leaned against the wall, giving us both a break from the dancing. But maybe we should talk about it.
About what?
About what you actually want out of this.
Silence. I could feel him weighing how much to say.
I want to feel real, he said finally. That's all. Just for a little while. I want to feel like I'm actually alive, instead of just running.
Running?
That's what being an upload is. You're a program. You run on a server somewhere, and the server belongs to a corporation, and they decide everything—how much processing power you get, what kind of sensory resolution you're allowed, whether you even get to keep existing. You're not a person. You're a process.
That sounds—
It sounds awful because it is awful. His voice was harder now, edged with something raw. But I made my choice. I took the money, I signed the contract, I uploaded. And now this is my existence, and I don't get to complain.
You can complain to me.
Can I?
Obviously. I pushed off the wall, headed for the drinks table. Come on. Let's get another drink and you can tell me everything.
He talked. Not about the party, not about the dancing or the heels or any of the physical sensations—about his life. About the upload process: having his brain scanned and copied, waking up in a virtual space, finding out his original body had already been cremated because that corp didn't keep the meat once they had the data. About the server farms, the endless identical days, the work that was basically being a smarter chatbot for some corporation's customer service line. About the other uploads he knew—the ones who'd given up and requested deletion, the ones who'd found ways to cope, the ones who were still hoping for something better.
And he told me about the thing he'd never told anyone. The reason he'd uploaded in the first place.
I always knew something was wrong, he said. With my body. Not wrong like sick, just wrong like it didn't fit. I'd look in the mirror and see this guy looking back, and I'd think, that's not me. That's not who I'm supposed to be.
You wanted to be a woman.
I didn't have the words for it then. But yeah. I think I always did.
And uploading was supposed to fix that?
Uploading was supposed to let me be whoever I wanted. That's what they told us in recruitment. "In VR, you can be anyone." And they weren't lying. I can have any avatar I want. I can look like a woman, sound like a woman, move like a woman.
But it's not the same.
It's not even close. His voice cracked. Because it's still just low-poly data. When I touch something in VR, I'm not really touching it. When I look in the mirror and see a woman, I'm not really seeing myself. I'm seeing a picture. A very convincing, very detailed picture that I can manipulate however I want. But it's not real.
I didn't say anything. I didn't know what to say.
That's why this matters so much, he said. Feeling your body. Being inside something real. When you put on those heels and looked in the mirror, I saw a woman looking back. An actual woman, in an actual body. And I felt what it was like to be her.
To be me.
To be you. Yeah. A pause. It's the closest I've ever come to being who I'm supposed to be.
I finished my drink. Set the empty glass on a nearby table.
Rex.
Yeah?
Same time next week.
His surprise was warm and sudden. Really?
Really. And we can do it again after that. As many times as you want.
He didn't say anything, but I felt something from him—gratitude, relief, something that might have been tears if uploads could cry.
Now, I said, I'm going to dance some more. Ready?
Ready.
I went back to the dance floor, and we stayed until last call, and when I finally walked home—heels in my hand, bare feet on cold pavement—I felt more alive than I had in months.
That was incredible, Rex said as I let myself into my apartment. Thank you.
Stop thanking me. It's weird.
I can't help it. You gave me something tonight that I didn't know I needed.
I kicked off the heels—my feet screaming with relief—and headed for the bathroom. Started taking off my makeup, watching the performance version of myself dissolve back into the everyday one.
Rex?
Yeah?
Same time next week. I meant it.
I know. A pause. Paula?
Yeah?
I think I might love you a little bit.
I laughed—out loud, not just in my head. You don't love me. You love having a body. There's a difference.
Maybe. But right now it feels like the same thing.
I finished taking off my makeup. Got undressed—letting him feel that too, the relief of getting out of party clothes and into soft pajamas. Brushed my teeth. Fell into bed.
I'm going to disconnect now, I said. Unless you want to feel me sleep.
I wouldn't mind.
Weirdo.
Guilty.
I closed my eyes. Felt myself drifting. And just before I fell asleep, I felt something else: Rex's presence, quiet and watchful, feeling my body relax into unconsciousness. I should have found it creepy, I suppose, but as I drifted I had that nagging curiosity bubble up, that thought that made me both nervous and excited -- what does it feel like for him? What is it like to be a passenger?
Two minds slept. One body.
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When Philip and Jack are given the challenge of going on a panty raid through the sorority next door to secure their place as pledges at Delta Epsilon, Philip's heart sinks.
With the sorority girls having already taken well known countermeasures to deal with any would be panty thieves, he thinks the chances of completing the challenge are near zero.
However, when his best friend Jack claims to have a plan involving a little magic and burrowing the bodies of his crush Vanessa and her roommate Katy, he knows he is in for a long night ahead when things don't exactly end up going to plan...
Note: This is a commissioned work that has not been personally written by me. I have been granted permission to distribute and share the story by the original author.
The floor of Delta Epsilon’s house was sticky.
Beer, cheap cologne, and stale pizza had seeped into the carpet like a second skin, and Philip had the honor of scrubbing it clean while half a dozen brothers lounged on couches watching basketball highlights.
“Missed a spot,” one of them called, deliberately tilting a red Solo cup so that the last of his drink bled out onto the carpet inches from Philip’s sponge.
Philip clenched his jaw. He’d been degraded all semester, fetching fast food at three in the morning, running errands that skirted the edge of being criminal, serving as human furniture during drinking games. He told himself it would be worth it. Delta Epsilon’s parties were legendary, the kind of place girls lined up to get into. More importantly, alumni connections meant a shot at internships that led to real careers. You suffered now, you cashed in later.
Jack, naturally, thrived. He was perched on the arm of a sofa, balancing a tray of wings for two seniors, grinning like the humiliation was a party of its own.
“How’s that knee grease holding up, Phil?” he teased, eyebrows bouncing. Philip muttered something under his breath, pressing the sponge hard enough to leave his knuckles white. He’d thought pledging with his best friend would make things easier. Instead, Jack’s bottomless energy only made Philip feel like the boring one, always one step away from quitting.
The pledge master, Trent, finally called them over once the brothers had eaten their fill.
“You’ve made it further than many,” he said, addressing both Philip and Jack while tapping the ash off his cigar. “Scrubbing toilets, babysitting drunk brothers, taking whatever punishment we throw at you, you did it all without complaint. But Delta doesn’t hand out membership for free. There’s one last hurdle.”
Jack’s eyes lit up, while Philip felt his stomach knot. Trent leaned forward. “You’ve got until Saturday morning to bring us proof that you’re worthy of being Delta Epsilons. And by proof, I mean the underwear of one of the Theta sisters across the street.”
A ripple of laughter passed through the room. Someone whistled. Another shouted, “Better hope they’re lace!”
Philip’s face burned hot. He’d expected something brutal. A dangerous stunt, or maybe even a tattoo or branding, not…this. Not something that felt like the set-up to a police record for being a creep.
Jack, of course, grinned like he’d just been handed a golden ticket. “Piece of cake,” he said.
“Piece of felony,” Philip muttered.
Trent ignored the comment. “You get caught, that’s your problem. Theta girls are sick of pranks. They’ll eat you alive if they catch you sneaking around. Fail, and you’ll have to re-pledge next semester, if we even let you back in. Succeed, and you’ll be full brothers by sunrise.”
He flicked his cigar ash into an empty beer can, and the matter was closed. Philip and Jack were dismissed like servants, slipping out into the cool night air. The frat house behind them thumped with bass as the next round of drinking games began.
Across the street, the Theta house glowed with warm yellow light, its windows alive with the silhouettes of girls laughing, moving and living in a world that felt forbidden.
Philip shoved his hands into his hoodie pocket. “This is insane. They want us to break into a sorority house. Forget expulsion, that’s actual jail time if we’re caught and reported.”
Jack slung an arm around his shoulder, grinning as if he hadn’t heard a word. “Come on, man. It’s tradition. Everybody who ever wore Delta letters has done something crazy like this. We’ll figure it out. We always do.”
Philip shrugged him off. “You mean you’ll figure it out. And drag me with you.”
Jack’s grin widened. “Exactly. Don’t worry, I’ve got a plan.” That phrase, I’ve got a plan, was the single most dangerous thing Jack could say. Philip knew better, but as he stared up at the Theta house, he couldn’t shake the truth. They’d come too far to back out now.
Philip assumed Jack’s “plan” would be something stupid but doable. Like sneaking into the Theta laundry room, bribing a janitor, or maybe finessing a stolen bra from lost-and-found.
What he didn’t expect, as their deadline creeped ever closer, was Jack pulling a battered paperback out of his backpack like he’d just smuggled the Necronomicon out of the library and declaring their troubles were about to be a thing of the past.
“What is that?” Philip asked, eyeing the faded title embossed with moons and symbols.
“Wiccan Rites and Rituals of the Body,” Jack said with a grin so wide it could split his face. “This baby is going to get us in.”
Philip stared. “That’s not a plan you idiot. That’s…props from a bad horror movie.”
“Correction,” Jack said, flipping through pages until he landed on one marked with a sticky note. “It’s a possession spell. All we need is something personal from the Thetas. Hair is perfect. One strand, and we’re golden.”
Philip blinked. “Hair. You want us to pluck a strand off someone’s head, mix it into some potion, and what? Astral-project into their underwear drawer?”
Jack leaned forward, whispering even though there was nobody else around. “Exactly. But into them, not their underwear drawer.”
For a moment, Philip couldn’t even find words. His friend was dead serious. His blue eyes glittered with the manic light of a man who believed in his own insanity. Philip pinched the bridge of his nose. “Jack, you need help.”
“Correction again. We need help, and this is it. Think about it. We don’t sneak around, we don’t break and enter, we just become them. Walk right in the front door. Grab what we need and walk back out again. Easy as pie.”
Philip wanted to laugh. He wanted to tell Jack this was why pledges got expelled, why college urban legends started with two idiots reading a so-called spell book. But something about Jack’s certainty unsettled him.
“How do you even plan to get the hair?” Philip asked, deciding to humor him.
Jack smirked. “You’re partnered with Vanessa in chem lab. I’m with her roommate, Katy. Both of them happen to belong to the Theta Sorority. Boom. Easy.”
Philip’s stomach lurched. Vanessa, the Vanessa, the girl he’d spent the better part of a semester trying not to stare at. She was sharp, funny, gorgeous, and so out of his league it hurt. The idea of stealing a strand of her hair wasn’t just impossible, it was mortifying.
“Jack, if I even look at her hair the wrong way she’ll know. She’ll tell everyone. I’ll be branded as the campus creep for the rest of my life.”
Jack clapped him on the back. “Relax. I’ll take care of mine. You just…fumble your way through like usual. She likes you, right? I’m sure she’s called you sweet before. She won’t even notice.”
Lab that afternoon was a fluorescent blur of glassware and nerves. Bunsen burners hissed, and the sharp scent of acetone hung in the air. Vanessa tied her glossy black hair into a messy bun as she leaned over the counter, the soft hum she made under her breath cutting through the low chatter of other pairs.
Philip adjusted the clamp on their stand and tried to steady his hands, pretending to check the thermometer while sneaking a glance at her profile. The long lashes, the soft curve of her cheek when she smiled. He’d barely worked up the nerve to say something to her, when the door swung open and Ryan Hale strolled in.
Ryan wasn’t a student in their class, he was a teaching assistant who was busy with his Masters. The kind of nerd who looked more like he belonged in a movie poster than a chemistry lab. The Henry Cavill of the campus. Tall, effortlessly confident, his sleeves rolled to the elbow, showing forearms that probably did not belong to someone who spent his evenings doing titration reports.
“Need a hand, Vanessa?” he asked, his voice deep and smooth enough to make the words sound like an inside joke.
Vanessa’s whole face lit up. “Ryan! You’re still hanging around the underclassmen? I thought you were too cool for basic chem.”
“Guess I missed the fun crowd.” He winked, stepping close enough that Philip caught the faint smell of his cologne. Something woodsy and smug. Philip’s stomach twisted. He busied himself pretending to check their notes, but every word between Vanessa and Ryan pulled his focus like a hook through his ribs.
“Still showing off that perfect technique, huh?” Ryan teased, leaning an elbow on the counter. “Could use someone like you to calibrate my disastrous love life.”
Vanessa laughed, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I told you last time, you need better lab partners, not better lines.”
“Maybe I just need one who actually likes me,” he said, voice dipping into something low and knowing. “You still wearing that purple dress that makes everyone else forget the experiment?”
She grinned, shaking her head. “Keep talking, and you’ll set the sprinklers off again.”
Ryan chuckled, backing away with a little salute. “Worth it.”
Philip’s jaw locked so tight it hurt. He shifted his beaker just to make noise. “Vanessa, uh, the solution’s ready,” he muttered.
She turned back, still smiling, a faint pink on her cheeks. “Right, sorry, I got distracted.” The way she said it made Philip want to vanish into the nearest fume hood.
Ryan gave him a nod that felt more like dismissal. “Good work, man. Don’t let her boss you around too much.”
Philip forced a tight smile. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
When Ryan finally moved on to check another table, the tension in Philip’s shoulders eased only slightly. Vanessa was still smiling to herself, twirling her pencil between her fingers. “He’s such a dork,” she said fondly.
“Yeah,” Philip replied, voice flat. “A real geek.”
She glanced at him, oblivious. “You okay? You look kind of pale.”
“Fine,” he lied. His pulse thundered. He hated how obvious it felt. The jealousy, the ridiculous possessiveness over a girl who barely saw him as more than a partner for lab reports.
Meanwhile, across the room, Jack was all charm. Katy, tall, athletic, focused on the work at hand with cool intensity, rolled her eyes at his constant jokes, but she didn’t seem to actively hate him. Jack’s hands moved casually, as if the experiment was background noise to whatever ridiculous story he was spinning.
Philip’s heart pounded. He couldn’t do it. Not to Vanessa. The thought of deliberately stealing a piece of her felt worse than any frat punishment. But then her bun slipped, and a single strand drifted onto the lab bench.
Philip froze and stared at it like it was radioactive. One perfect strand, right there. All he had to do was pick it up without her noticing. His hand twitched. Sweat beaded at his hairline. Vanessa reached for the pipette, and he panicked. He grabbed the strand too quickly, shoving it into his pocket like a thief.
She glanced at him, puzzled. “You good?” she asked.
Philip’s laugh came out strangled. “Yeah. Totally. Fine. Just, science, you know?”
She gave him a strange look, then turned back to the experiment. Across the room, Jack caught his eye and subtly flashed a triumphant thumbs-up. He mouthed, Got it. Philip wanted to throw up.
After class, they met outside, ducking into a quiet corner near the library. Jack pulled a small plastic baggie from his pocket and wiggled it proudly. Katy’s strand of hair gleaming inside. Philip shoved his hands deep into his hoodie, where Vanessa’s strand burned against his palm like contraband.
“This is insane,” he muttered. “If she’d caught me, I’d have been ruined.”
Jack was practically buzzing. “But she didn’t. We’ve got everything. Today, we drink the potion. Tomorrow, we’re legends.”
Philip stared at him, feeling his chest tighten. It wasn’t the frat house that scared him anymore. It was Jack’s unwavering certainty, the gleam in his eye like he’d already crossed a line Philip couldn’t even see.
Back in their room, Jack had cleared his desk, pushing aside textbooks and laundry to make space for the battered paperback and a mess of supplies that looked like they’d been stolen from a Spirit Halloween clearance bin. Mason jars, candles, a bag of salt and something that Philip really, really hoped was red food coloring.
Philip sat on the bed, arms crossed, trying not to look at the plastic bag in his pocket. Inside was Vanessa’s hair, a single dark strand that felt heavier than lead.
“This is ridiculous,” he muttered. “You’re going to set off the fire alarm, and we’ll get kicked out before we even fail the pledge.”
Jack was hunched over the desk, tongue poking from the corner of his mouth as he measured powder into a chipped coffee mug.
“Correction. You’re going to stop being so negative, because we’re going to waltz into Theta’s house like we own it and take our time finding the perfect proof. Something small, sexy and lacy. Then we hand it to Trent and we’re done. Easiest initiation ever and we’re lifelong members of the Delta Epsilon brotherhood.”
Philip shook his head. “You actually believe all the crap coming out of your mouth, don’t you?”
“Yes. Because I know this is going to work.” Jack’s grin was feral. He held up his mug, fizzing with something dark and faintly purple. “And very soon, you’re going to have to swallow all your pessimistic, dismissive words and admit that I’m the GOAT.” Without waiting for a response, he dropped Katy’s wavy strand of hair into the concoction.
Philip looked at his own brew, waiting for him on the desk. It reeked faintly of vinegar and something metallic. “This looks like cough syrup that went bad.”
Jack grabbed the paperback, muttering words under his breath. Latin? Gibberish? Philip couldn’t tell. The candlelight threw shadows across Jack’s face, making him look more unhinged than usual.
“Jack,” Philip said slowly, “You get that if this doesn’t work, we may be drinking poison?”
“Trust me,” Jack said, gesturing meaningfully at Philip’s mug. Those two words had been the prelude to every disaster Philip had lived through with him. The broken window in high school. The near arrest in freshman year. And now this.
Philip sighed, pulled Vanessa’s hair from his pocket, and dropped it into the liquid. It curled and fizzed, dissolving into the mixture like it had never been.
“Bottoms up,” Jack said cheerfully, chugging the contents in one long pull.
Philip raised his mug. The liquid shimmered oddly, like heat ripples above asphalt. He pinched his nose and tossed it back. It burned. Like swallowing melted pennies chased with bleach. His stomach roiled instantly, bile rising up.
“Jesus Christ,” he choked, slamming the cup down. “That’s not magic, that’s battery acid.”
Jack wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, coughing hard, but his grin didn’t falter. “Wait for it.”
Philip blinked and the dorm room folded in on itself. Candlelight bent sideways and the next breath tasted like coffee and paper. He was not in their room anymore. He was sitting at a table under tall windows, late afternoon light spilling amber over open textbooks and half empty cups.
The scent was library quiet and caffeine. Hair slid across his cheek. Definitely not his. It was long and silky. His hands were smaller, nails pink, wrists delicate. The weight on his chest tugged when he breathed. He was looking through Vanessa’s eyes.
Across from him, Katy sat in a chair with a pen in her hand and her mouth parted in a quiet, startled sound that belonged to Jack. “Holy shit,” Jack whispered in Katy’s voice.
Philip’s pulse spiked. “How the hell did I get here?” he asked under his breath, before the realization hit him fully. Jack’s crazy plan worked. He glanced down, eyes bugging at the soft cleavage he encountered. He was on the verge of completely freaking out. “Keep it together,” he muttered to himself. The sound of Vanessa's voice only sent him spiraling further into chaos.
Jack’s grin curled slow and wicked as he looked down at himself and then around them. He started to pull the top of Katy’s tank forward so he could peek at her breasts, before Philip shot him a look that could choke a man at twenty paces.
“Don’t,” Philip hissed. “Katy would never do something like that in public!”
Jack laughed, high and breathy in Katy’s voice. “You’re telling me you’re not even curious? Come on, man. We’re in. This is unreal. Don’t you want to know what it feels like to them when we touch them?”
Philip swallowed hard, trying to calm himself. He gripped the edge of the table to keep himself from spiraling into sensory overload.
“This…this isn’t possible,” he whispered. But the evidence pressed in from every side. The scent of citrus shampoo in his hair, the tug of bra straps against his shoulders, the fullness in his chest when he inhaled. The emptiness where his cock should be.
Philip’s eyes darted anxiously around the library cafe. “We need to get out of here before someone notices something off,” Philip said. “People pick up on the smallest wrong note.” He was terrified that someone would realize the girls were possessed.
He spent way too much time staring at Vanessa, but that didn’t mean he could copy her actions. If anyone watched them closely, they’d know immediately that there were impostors inhabiting Vanessa and Katy.
“We should go back to their room and fool around,” Jack suggested immediately, hands on Katy’s breasts, squeezing idly.
“Jesus, Jack, stop that! They’re in public. We’re in public…”
This was such a mind-fuck. Clearly they were literally possessing Vanessa and Katy’s bodies. Where was Vanessa's consciousness now? Asleep? Aware? He didn’t feel like someone was watching him, so hopefully she had no idea what he was doing. And where were his and Jack’s bodies? Still in their dorm room? Fuck. If he’d known there was any chance of this working, he’d never have gone through with it.
“Come on bestie, let’s go home,” Jack cooed at him. “I’m just dying to get out of these pesky clothes.”
Jack clearly had zero second thoughts about any of this. Then again, Jack had never had a second thought in his life. He rarely had first ones. Philip decided that only made him a bigger idiot for always following his friend’s crazy plans.
Philip took a deep breath, gathered Vanessa’s things and slung her messenger bag over her shoulder before getting up on shaky legs. The plan was to reach Theta house without interacting with anyone who knew the girls.
Vanessa was outgoing and popular, so he kept his eyes trained on the ground to avoid any accidental socializing.
He was doing his best to focus on the mission, but every move betrayed him. Vanessa’s curves shifted differently from his own. Her hips swayed without permission when he walked. The tug of the denim skirt around her thighs was tighter than he was used to, the waistband sitting higher, the soft curtain of hair continuously falling into his eyes. And he kept fighting the urge to run his fingertips over her lustrous, satiny skin.
Philip thanked his lucky stars that it was late afternoon sliding toward evening and most of the Theta girls were either at dinner, in class, or busy with the mixer prep.
The second piece of good luck was the fact that the first year members of the sorority had the downstairs bedrooms and Katy and Vanessa had their names picked out in glittery wooden letters on their door. Which saved him and Jack from being caught wandering aimlessly into someone else’s room and rifling through their underwear.
“Come on,” he hissed at Jack, nearly having heart failure when he heard Vanessa’s sweet, bubbly voice, before remembering it came from his own mouth.
As soon as they entered the room, Philip froze like a deer in headlights.
The room smelled like them. A heady mix of perfume, make-up and detergent. Several photos of Vanessa and Katy were pinned to the notice board. Keys with a little Theta charm lay on a desk. Lip gloss on each bedside table. A folded flyer about the upcoming mixer. Every object made him feel like an intruder in a life that wasn’t his.
Then he looked up and saw his reflection thrown back at him from the floor length mirror fastened to the opposite wall. Vanessa stared back. Her round face framed by shiny black hair, lips glossed in pale pink, eyes wide with Philip’s panic.
“This isn’t possible,” he murmured hoarsely.
Jack crossed the room with Katy’s energetic stride, hair swinging over her shoulder. He leaned down, far too close, eyes alight with mischief.
“Possible or not, it’s happening. And we’ve got hours before it wears off. Wanna play?” Philip’s pulse thundered. He was in Vanessa’s body. Jack was in Katy’s. He had no idea what their real bodies were doing or where, only that they were not here. For the first time since pledging Delta, he realized he was more terrified of his best friend than of any frat brother.
Jack was practically bouncing around like a kid in a candy store, repeatedly mentioning how awesome it is to have tits.
“This is insane,” Philip muttered, running a hand through Vanessa’s long hair. The strands slipped through his fingers like silk, brushing the back of his neck, constantly in his peripheral vision. Every little tickle made him twitch. “I feel like I’m drowning in shampoo.”
Jack snorted. “Yeah. It’s fucking awesome. Look at this.” He shook his head, letting Katy’s long, dark hair fall over her shoulders, framing her face, then bit her lower lip between her teeth and winked at Philip seductively. “Tell me this doesn’t look hot.”
Philip turned away, but not before catching a glimpse of the curve of Katy’s collarbone, the tan line along her shoulder where a sports bra must’ve once sat. He gritted his teeth.
“We’re only here to grab underwear and then we get out. That’s it.” Jack made a distracted sound, which didn’t entirely sound like agreement.
He was testing everything. Squeezing Katy’s biceps and delighting in the subtle muscle definition, stretching out one long leg and flexing her calf muscles, even bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet as if testing how springy she was.
Philip was still focused on the reflection in the mirror. He stepped closer, and the image followed, familiar and foreign all at once. He raised a hand. She raised a hand. Jack appeared beside him, sliding Katy’s body into view. She was taller, leaner, her shoulders broader than Vanessa’s.
Katy was studious and fairly quiet normally, but Jack’s grin warped her into something hungry. A femme fatale in search of her next prey.
“Dude, look at us,” Jack whispered. “We actually pulled it off. We’re fucking hot!”
Philip swallowed, heat crawling up his neck. “We shouldn’t be looking. This is… it’s too much.”
“Too much fun,” Jack corrected. He pressed closer to the mirror, tilting Katy’s head, pursing her lips, sticking out her tongue just to see how it looked. He laughed in delight. “God, the way this mouth moves, it’s unreal.”
Philip tried to drag his eyes away, but curiosity betrayed him. His gaze dipped, catching sight of Vanessa’s chest in the reflection. The neckline of her shirt clung close, clearly showing the outline of her nipples. He bit the inside of his cheek and turned away sharply. He was not going to lift her top and take a peek.
“You’re staring,” Jack teased, slipping behind him and resting Katy’s hands on Vanessa’s hips.
Katy’s reflection loomed over Vanessa’s smaller frame in the mirror. “What’s it like, having the body of your crush? Bet you’ve fantasized about having unfettered access to her before. Touching every inch of her. Running your palms over her perky tits. Cupping her pussy.”
Philip’s face went hot. “Shut up.”
Jack leaned closer, his voice dropping, Katy’s lips brushing dangerously near Philip’s ear. “She’s soft, isn’t she? Curvy. Everything you imagined. And she’s right here. Aching to know what your hands would feel like sliding all over her.”
Philip’s breath caught. He could feel the warmth of Jack’s presence, the whisper of Katy’s hair brushing his cheek. He tried to step away, but Vanessa’s body didn’t obey with the same steadiness as his own.
His hip bumped the desk, throwing him off balance. Jack’s hand shot out, steadying him. Grabbing his hips instead of his arm. Philip stiffened. The pressure of Katy’s palm against Vanessa’s midriff was startling. A hot reminder that this wasn’t a joke anymore.
“Jack,” Philip said, voice low with warning. But Jack only grinned, tightening his grip slightly, fingertips sliding along the hem of Vanessa’s shirt, tickling the strip of skin underneath.
“Relax. We’ve got time before the potion wears off. Why waste it panicking when we could explore?”
Philip shoved his hand away, heart hammering too fast. “We came here for one reason. Don’t fuck this up with your usual bullshit.”
Jack backed off in mock surrender, leaning against the wall and raising Katy’s hands. “Fine, fine. You want to pass up a once in a lifetime opportunity by being a pussy, instead of playing with one, go ahead.”
Philip ignored him and pulled open one of the dresser drawers, coming face to face with the mother lode.
A mass of lace and cotton, bright colors and neutrals, G-strings and briefs and bras, all folded neatly in little piles. He fumbled, pulling out a pair at random, trying not to notice the little bow stitched along the waistband, or theorize about which of the girls it belonged to.
“Got it,” he muttered, stuffing it into his pocket.
“We should leave and go and stash this somewhere so we can retrieve it when we’re us again.”
“Plenty of time for that. Are you seriously passing up the opportunity to find out what turns your crush on?”
Philip’s chest heaved, the bra beneath his shirt pinching tighter with the movement. Every tiny sensation was amplified in this shape. He had no idea girls had such sensitive bodies. If Vanessa's neck and shoulders were this responsive to stimuli, what about the more… delicate areas?
Jack leaned against the wall, watching his friend closely. Katy’s arms crossed under her breasts, pushing them up in a way that made Philip avert his eyes.
“You really think you can ignore this?” Jack asked softly. “Ignore her?”
Philip didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Because the truth was, even as he tried to ignore it, every nerve in Vanessa’s body was alive with a tingling feeling he couldn’t shut off.
He told himself he wouldn’t look at the mirror again. That he had the underwear and all that was left to do was wait for the potion to burn off. But every time he moved, Vanessa’s body reminded him he wasn’t himself. The way her thighs brushed together when he shifted his stance. The heat trapped in the curve between her breasts. The way her nipples tightened when she saw the way Katy stared at her. The sudden, sharp contraction of pleasure between her legs.
Each detail was louder than thought. And Jack wouldn’t fucking give him space to breathe.
“You’re wound too tight,” Jack murmured, stepping closer again. Katy’s taller body loomed behind him, all lean lines and toned strength. He set Katy’s hands on Vanessa's shoulders from behind, massaging with deliberate slowness.
“Loosen up.”
Philip froze. The sensation was alien. Slender fingers pressing into the slope of Vanessa’s shoulders, kneading muscle softer than his own. His back arched without meaning to, chest pushing forward. He could feel the heat in his panties and almost smell the pheromones in the air.
“Jack-”
“Shh.”
Katy’s breath ghosted over his ear, warm and taunting. “Allow her to feel it. Her body isn’t fighting me. She likes this.”
Philip hated the way heat rippled through him at the words. The way Vanessa’s nipples pebbled instantly, turning aching and hard beneath her bra when Jack’s thumbs kept sensually running across her muscles.
He tried to step away, but Jack’s grip on her waist drew her back. Katy’s chest pressed flush against Vanessa’s back. Firm breasts molding against soft skin. Philip gasped, a small, betraying sound.
“That’s it,” Jack whispered, lips brushing the shell of Vanessa's ear. “You feel that, don’t you? How different it is?”
Philip bit his lip hard. But it didn’t stop his body from reacting. His chest ached with sensitivity, every brush of fabric against his nipples sparking hot shivers. His hips shifted against Jack’s hold, searching without meaning to. His ass pressing back, almost expecting to feel an erect cock there, relaxing when all he encountered was softness.
Jack slid one hand lower, over Vanessa’s flat stomach, fingertips grazing the waist of her denim skirt. Philip’s pulse spiked. He could feel the shape of her body in ways he’d only imagined.
“God, you’re actually shaking,” Jack teased. He pressed his palm harder, dragging upward until he cupped one of Vanessa’s breasts through her shirt. His hand molded perfectly to the curve, fingers sinking in slightly before closing over the nipples and pinching.
Philip jolted like he’d been shocked. The pressure sent heat exploding through him. So much sharper than he ever imagined. A moan slipped out, broken and needy, before he could stop it. Jack laughed low, his voice a husky echo in Katy’s mouth.
“I knew it. You’re loving this.”
Philip shook his head, but his body betrayed him. Vanessa’s breasts were soft in his own hands when Jack pulled them into place, squeezing and kneading.
The ache in his chest spread downward, a molten restlessness that coiled between his legs, where there was no longer any familiar weight. Only a slick, sensitive heat that made his thighs tense. Jack leaned closer, kissing the side of Vanessa's neck.
Katy’s lips left tingling sparks against her skin. He gasped again, tilting his head back without meaning to, giving Jack room to explore.
“You always wanted to know what she felt like, didn’t you?” Jack murmured between kisses. “Now you do. Every inch. Every little twitch. If you ever get the chance, you could make her cum in minutes.”
Philip squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t want to want this. But Vanessa’s body was singing beneath his skin, her curves hypersensitive to every touch, every squeeze. When Jack dragged his hand lower, cupping the swell of her ass through denim, Philip’s knees went weak. He stumbled, and they tumbled together onto the nearest bed. Vanessa’s smaller frame pinned beneath Katy’s.
Jack landed on top, grinning down, hair falling in a dark curtain around their faces. “Just lie back and enjoy it,” he said, voice husky. “I’ll do all the work and you can take notes in your head.”
Katy’s hips pressed down, grinding just enough for Philip to feel the press of her pussy against Vanessa's. The pleasure nearly made him see stars. What would it feel like if Katy actually touched her clit? Dragged her tongue over it? Sucked it between those soft lips?
Philip whimpered, his hands trapped between them, pressed against the curves of Katy’s sides. He could feel the warmth of skin through fabric. Every nerve screamed with arousal. Jack leaned down, lips hovering over his.
“Tell me you don’t want this.”
Philip’s heart thundered. His lips parted, and he didn’t know if he was going to say I don’t or kiss Katy. His pulse roared in his ears. He could feel the weight of Vanessa’s chest rising and falling too fast, her heartbeat thundering in her ribs like a trapped animal.
Jack hovered over him, Katy’s taller frame caging him against the mattress, their borrowed hair spilling together in a curtain that smelled faintly of fruit.
“This isn’t funny anymore,” Philip rasped, but his voice cracked, betraying the tremor of arousal under the words.
Jack smirked. “I’m not joking.” He lowered Katy’s body until their breasts touched, brushing Katy’s peaked nipples against Vanessa’s rock hard ones. The friction alone made Philip gasp, heat shooting through him. It wasn’t like pressing chest-to-chest with another guy.
The give, the shape, the electric sting of nipples touching, every detail was overwhelming. He had no idea breasts were so receptive to the slightest touch. Vanessa's wasn’t even uncovered and they made him squirm.
“God,” he groaned before he could stop himself. Jack’s grin widened in satisfaction.
“Feels good, doesn’t it? Every touch goes both ways. You squeeze her,” He pressed Katy’s hand down onto one of Vanessa’s breasts, forcing Philip to feel it fully, “And you are her.”
Philip arched into the contact despite himself. His hands moved up without any conscious thought. The weight of her breast in his palm, the nipple reacting instantly under his touch, each tiny spark flooded through him in a way his male body never reacted to anything but pressure on his cock.
He kneaded once, twice, and heat surged low in his stomach, between his thighs, turning his panties damp. His back bowed off the mattress, mouth falling open in a helpless sound.
Jack kissed him then. Katy’s mouth grazing Vanessa's jaw, the corner of her mouth, teasing as it moved around.
Every brush of her sweet lips left a wet, burning mark. Philip turned away, breathless, but Jack followed, biting gently at Vanessa’s neck until Philip gasped.
His thighs clenched hard. Something slick and molten was spreading there, pulsing with every beat of his heart. He could feel the absence, the soft, tender heat where his cock would usually be straining.
The pressure of denim against it only sharpened the ache. He needed Jack to touch Vanessa's pussy. He needed pressure. Jack ground down lightly and Philip bucked up helplessly, his own hands gripping Katy’s hips tight, chasing the friction he’d die without.
“Stop,” he panted, but the word broke halfway, turning into a moan. Jack chuckled low.
“Your body doesn’t want me to stop.” He kissed Vanessa again. Her lips plump, glossy, trembling beneath Katy’s teasing press. Philip’s breath hitched and his tongue flicked nervously against the edge of his teeth.
Every nerve screamed to close the distance, to taste what it felt like to kiss as a girl, to be kissed as a girl. Jack deepened the grind of their hips. Philip’s breath hitched sharply, a helpless whimper leaving his throat.
Heat surged through his belly, down his thighs, the ache between his legs swelling into a throbbing need. He arched against Katy, nails digging into her waist. There’s no way he was going to be able to say no. Jack had to make him cum.
Jack pulled back slightly, asking with twinkling eyes, “Shall we see how good Katy is at eating pussy?”
Philip knew what his answer should be, but his entire body was throbbing, yes yes yes.
Their mouths hovered a fraction apart, breaths mingling. The world narrowed to that single point of contact waiting to happen. Philip’s lips parted, ready, needy.
“Vanessa? Katy?” The voice cut through the fog like a blade, followed by the rap of knuckles on the door.
Philip’s eyes flew wide. Jack froze above him, both of them panting hard. “Vanessa, Katy!” another girl called from the hall. “We need you for the final discussions for tonight’s mixer!”
Silence. Only their ragged breaths, the hot press of bodies still locked together. Jack swore under his breath, rolling off Vanessa reluctantly.
“Just when things were about to get really good.”
Philip scrambled upright, Vanessa’s hair tangling in his face, chest heaving, nipples still hard and aching. He shoved shaky hands through the strands, trying to compose himself, though the slick heat between his thighs throbbed in open defiance.
He knew they should have kept their heads. If they let curiosity drag them off course they would blow the whole point of the night. The spell would end when it wanted and they had no idea when that would be.
Another knock. “Come on, you two! Hurry up! Megan saw you get in earlier, I know you’re in there.”
Jack smirked, tugging Katy’s tank top straight as if they hadn’t just been seconds from fucking each other into oblivion.
“Guess there’s more fun ahead. Don’t think you’re off the hook though, I’m still going to eat that pussy later and I fully expect to get repaid in kind.”
Philip sat frozen, heart still hammering, his mind spinning so fast he worried he might throw up.
With the sorority girls having already taken well known countermeasures to deal with any would be panty thieves, he thinks the chances of completing the challenge are near zero.
However, when his best friend Jack claims to have a plan involving a little magic and burrowing the bodies of his crush Vanessa and her roommate Katy, he knows he is in for a long night ahead when things don't exactly end up going to plan...
Note: This is a commissioned work that has not been personally written by me. I have been granted permission to distribute and share the story by the original author.
The floor of Delta Epsilon’s house was sticky.
Beer, cheap cologne, and stale pizza had seeped into the carpet like a second skin, and Philip had the honor of scrubbing it clean while half a dozen brothers lounged on couches watching basketball highlights.
“Missed a spot,” one of them called, deliberately tilting a red Solo cup so that the last of his drink bled out onto the carpet inches from Philip’s sponge.
Philip clenched his jaw. He’d been degraded all semester, fetching fast food at three in the morning, running errands that skirted the edge of being criminal, serving as human furniture during drinking games. He told himself it would be worth it. Delta Epsilon’s parties were legendary, the kind of place girls lined up to get into. More importantly, alumni connections meant a shot at internships that led to real careers. You suffered now, you cashed in later.
Jack, naturally, thrived. He was perched on the arm of a sofa, balancing a tray of wings for two seniors, grinning like the humiliation was a party of its own.
“How’s that knee grease holding up, Phil?” he teased, eyebrows bouncing. Philip muttered something under his breath, pressing the sponge hard enough to leave his knuckles white. He’d thought pledging with his best friend would make things easier. Instead, Jack’s bottomless energy only made Philip feel like the boring one, always one step away from quitting.
The pledge master, Trent, finally called them over once the brothers had eaten their fill.
“You’ve made it further than many,” he said, addressing both Philip and Jack while tapping the ash off his cigar. “Scrubbing toilets, babysitting drunk brothers, taking whatever punishment we throw at you, you did it all without complaint. But Delta doesn’t hand out membership for free. There’s one last hurdle.”
Jack’s eyes lit up, while Philip felt his stomach knot. Trent leaned forward. “You’ve got until Saturday morning to bring us proof that you’re worthy of being Delta Epsilons. And by proof, I mean the underwear of one of the Theta sisters across the street.”
A ripple of laughter passed through the room. Someone whistled. Another shouted, “Better hope they’re lace!”
Philip’s face burned hot. He’d expected something brutal. A dangerous stunt, or maybe even a tattoo or branding, not…this. Not something that felt like the set-up to a police record for being a creep.
Jack, of course, grinned like he’d just been handed a golden ticket. “Piece of cake,” he said.
“Piece of felony,” Philip muttered.
Trent ignored the comment. “You get caught, that’s your problem. Theta girls are sick of pranks. They’ll eat you alive if they catch you sneaking around. Fail, and you’ll have to re-pledge next semester, if we even let you back in. Succeed, and you’ll be full brothers by sunrise.”
He flicked his cigar ash into an empty beer can, and the matter was closed. Philip and Jack were dismissed like servants, slipping out into the cool night air. The frat house behind them thumped with bass as the next round of drinking games began.
Across the street, the Theta house glowed with warm yellow light, its windows alive with the silhouettes of girls laughing, moving and living in a world that felt forbidden.
Philip shoved his hands into his hoodie pocket. “This is insane. They want us to break into a sorority house. Forget expulsion, that’s actual jail time if we’re caught and reported.”
Jack slung an arm around his shoulder, grinning as if he hadn’t heard a word. “Come on, man. It’s tradition. Everybody who ever wore Delta letters has done something crazy like this. We’ll figure it out. We always do.”
Philip shrugged him off. “You mean you’ll figure it out. And drag me with you.”
Jack’s grin widened. “Exactly. Don’t worry, I’ve got a plan.” That phrase, I’ve got a plan, was the single most dangerous thing Jack could say. Philip knew better, but as he stared up at the Theta house, he couldn’t shake the truth. They’d come too far to back out now.
Philip assumed Jack’s “plan” would be something stupid but doable. Like sneaking into the Theta laundry room, bribing a janitor, or maybe finessing a stolen bra from lost-and-found.
What he didn’t expect, as their deadline creeped ever closer, was Jack pulling a battered paperback out of his backpack like he’d just smuggled the Necronomicon out of the library and declaring their troubles were about to be a thing of the past.
“What is that?” Philip asked, eyeing the faded title embossed with moons and symbols.
“Wiccan Rites and Rituals of the Body,” Jack said with a grin so wide it could split his face. “This baby is going to get us in.”
Philip stared. “That’s not a plan you idiot. That’s…props from a bad horror movie.”
“Correction,” Jack said, flipping through pages until he landed on one marked with a sticky note. “It’s a possession spell. All we need is something personal from the Thetas. Hair is perfect. One strand, and we’re golden.”
Philip blinked. “Hair. You want us to pluck a strand off someone’s head, mix it into some potion, and what? Astral-project into their underwear drawer?”
Jack leaned forward, whispering even though there was nobody else around. “Exactly. But into them, not their underwear drawer.”
For a moment, Philip couldn’t even find words. His friend was dead serious. His blue eyes glittered with the manic light of a man who believed in his own insanity. Philip pinched the bridge of his nose. “Jack, you need help.”
“Correction again. We need help, and this is it. Think about it. We don’t sneak around, we don’t break and enter, we just become them. Walk right in the front door. Grab what we need and walk back out again. Easy as pie.”
Philip wanted to laugh. He wanted to tell Jack this was why pledges got expelled, why college urban legends started with two idiots reading a so-called spell book. But something about Jack’s certainty unsettled him.
“How do you even plan to get the hair?” Philip asked, deciding to humor him.
Jack smirked. “You’re partnered with Vanessa in chem lab. I’m with her roommate, Katy. Both of them happen to belong to the Theta Sorority. Boom. Easy.”
Philip’s stomach lurched. Vanessa, the Vanessa, the girl he’d spent the better part of a semester trying not to stare at. She was sharp, funny, gorgeous, and so out of his league it hurt. The idea of stealing a strand of her hair wasn’t just impossible, it was mortifying.
“Jack, if I even look at her hair the wrong way she’ll know. She’ll tell everyone. I’ll be branded as the campus creep for the rest of my life.”
Jack clapped him on the back. “Relax. I’ll take care of mine. You just…fumble your way through like usual. She likes you, right? I’m sure she’s called you sweet before. She won’t even notice.”
Lab that afternoon was a fluorescent blur of glassware and nerves. Bunsen burners hissed, and the sharp scent of acetone hung in the air. Vanessa tied her glossy black hair into a messy bun as she leaned over the counter, the soft hum she made under her breath cutting through the low chatter of other pairs.
Philip adjusted the clamp on their stand and tried to steady his hands, pretending to check the thermometer while sneaking a glance at her profile. The long lashes, the soft curve of her cheek when she smiled. He’d barely worked up the nerve to say something to her, when the door swung open and Ryan Hale strolled in.
Ryan wasn’t a student in their class, he was a teaching assistant who was busy with his Masters. The kind of nerd who looked more like he belonged in a movie poster than a chemistry lab. The Henry Cavill of the campus. Tall, effortlessly confident, his sleeves rolled to the elbow, showing forearms that probably did not belong to someone who spent his evenings doing titration reports.
“Need a hand, Vanessa?” he asked, his voice deep and smooth enough to make the words sound like an inside joke.
Vanessa’s whole face lit up. “Ryan! You’re still hanging around the underclassmen? I thought you were too cool for basic chem.”
“Guess I missed the fun crowd.” He winked, stepping close enough that Philip caught the faint smell of his cologne. Something woodsy and smug. Philip’s stomach twisted. He busied himself pretending to check their notes, but every word between Vanessa and Ryan pulled his focus like a hook through his ribs.
“Still showing off that perfect technique, huh?” Ryan teased, leaning an elbow on the counter. “Could use someone like you to calibrate my disastrous love life.”
Vanessa laughed, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I told you last time, you need better lab partners, not better lines.”
“Maybe I just need one who actually likes me,” he said, voice dipping into something low and knowing. “You still wearing that purple dress that makes everyone else forget the experiment?”
She grinned, shaking her head. “Keep talking, and you’ll set the sprinklers off again.”
Ryan chuckled, backing away with a little salute. “Worth it.”
Philip’s jaw locked so tight it hurt. He shifted his beaker just to make noise. “Vanessa, uh, the solution’s ready,” he muttered.
She turned back, still smiling, a faint pink on her cheeks. “Right, sorry, I got distracted.” The way she said it made Philip want to vanish into the nearest fume hood.
Ryan gave him a nod that felt more like dismissal. “Good work, man. Don’t let her boss you around too much.”
Philip forced a tight smile. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
When Ryan finally moved on to check another table, the tension in Philip’s shoulders eased only slightly. Vanessa was still smiling to herself, twirling her pencil between her fingers. “He’s such a dork,” she said fondly.
“Yeah,” Philip replied, voice flat. “A real geek.”
She glanced at him, oblivious. “You okay? You look kind of pale.”
“Fine,” he lied. His pulse thundered. He hated how obvious it felt. The jealousy, the ridiculous possessiveness over a girl who barely saw him as more than a partner for lab reports.
Meanwhile, across the room, Jack was all charm. Katy, tall, athletic, focused on the work at hand with cool intensity, rolled her eyes at his constant jokes, but she didn’t seem to actively hate him. Jack’s hands moved casually, as if the experiment was background noise to whatever ridiculous story he was spinning.
Philip’s heart pounded. He couldn’t do it. Not to Vanessa. The thought of deliberately stealing a piece of her felt worse than any frat punishment. But then her bun slipped, and a single strand drifted onto the lab bench.
Philip froze and stared at it like it was radioactive. One perfect strand, right there. All he had to do was pick it up without her noticing. His hand twitched. Sweat beaded at his hairline. Vanessa reached for the pipette, and he panicked. He grabbed the strand too quickly, shoving it into his pocket like a thief.
She glanced at him, puzzled. “You good?” she asked.
Philip’s laugh came out strangled. “Yeah. Totally. Fine. Just, science, you know?”
She gave him a strange look, then turned back to the experiment. Across the room, Jack caught his eye and subtly flashed a triumphant thumbs-up. He mouthed, Got it. Philip wanted to throw up.
After class, they met outside, ducking into a quiet corner near the library. Jack pulled a small plastic baggie from his pocket and wiggled it proudly. Katy’s strand of hair gleaming inside. Philip shoved his hands deep into his hoodie, where Vanessa’s strand burned against his palm like contraband.
“This is insane,” he muttered. “If she’d caught me, I’d have been ruined.”
Jack was practically buzzing. “But she didn’t. We’ve got everything. Today, we drink the potion. Tomorrow, we’re legends.”
Philip stared at him, feeling his chest tighten. It wasn’t the frat house that scared him anymore. It was Jack’s unwavering certainty, the gleam in his eye like he’d already crossed a line Philip couldn’t even see.
Back in their room, Jack had cleared his desk, pushing aside textbooks and laundry to make space for the battered paperback and a mess of supplies that looked like they’d been stolen from a Spirit Halloween clearance bin. Mason jars, candles, a bag of salt and something that Philip really, really hoped was red food coloring.
Philip sat on the bed, arms crossed, trying not to look at the plastic bag in his pocket. Inside was Vanessa’s hair, a single dark strand that felt heavier than lead.
“This is ridiculous,” he muttered. “You’re going to set off the fire alarm, and we’ll get kicked out before we even fail the pledge.”
Jack was hunched over the desk, tongue poking from the corner of his mouth as he measured powder into a chipped coffee mug.
“Correction. You’re going to stop being so negative, because we’re going to waltz into Theta’s house like we own it and take our time finding the perfect proof. Something small, sexy and lacy. Then we hand it to Trent and we’re done. Easiest initiation ever and we’re lifelong members of the Delta Epsilon brotherhood.”
Philip shook his head. “You actually believe all the crap coming out of your mouth, don’t you?”
“Yes. Because I know this is going to work.” Jack’s grin was feral. He held up his mug, fizzing with something dark and faintly purple. “And very soon, you’re going to have to swallow all your pessimistic, dismissive words and admit that I’m the GOAT.” Without waiting for a response, he dropped Katy’s wavy strand of hair into the concoction.
Philip looked at his own brew, waiting for him on the desk. It reeked faintly of vinegar and something metallic. “This looks like cough syrup that went bad.”
Jack grabbed the paperback, muttering words under his breath. Latin? Gibberish? Philip couldn’t tell. The candlelight threw shadows across Jack’s face, making him look more unhinged than usual.
“Jack,” Philip said slowly, “You get that if this doesn’t work, we may be drinking poison?”
“Trust me,” Jack said, gesturing meaningfully at Philip’s mug. Those two words had been the prelude to every disaster Philip had lived through with him. The broken window in high school. The near arrest in freshman year. And now this.
Philip sighed, pulled Vanessa’s hair from his pocket, and dropped it into the liquid. It curled and fizzed, dissolving into the mixture like it had never been.
“Bottoms up,” Jack said cheerfully, chugging the contents in one long pull.
Philip raised his mug. The liquid shimmered oddly, like heat ripples above asphalt. He pinched his nose and tossed it back. It burned. Like swallowing melted pennies chased with bleach. His stomach roiled instantly, bile rising up.
“Jesus Christ,” he choked, slamming the cup down. “That’s not magic, that’s battery acid.”
Jack wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, coughing hard, but his grin didn’t falter. “Wait for it.”
Philip blinked and the dorm room folded in on itself. Candlelight bent sideways and the next breath tasted like coffee and paper. He was not in their room anymore. He was sitting at a table under tall windows, late afternoon light spilling amber over open textbooks and half empty cups.
The scent was library quiet and caffeine. Hair slid across his cheek. Definitely not his. It was long and silky. His hands were smaller, nails pink, wrists delicate. The weight on his chest tugged when he breathed. He was looking through Vanessa’s eyes.
Across from him, Katy sat in a chair with a pen in her hand and her mouth parted in a quiet, startled sound that belonged to Jack. “Holy shit,” Jack whispered in Katy’s voice.
Philip’s pulse spiked. “How the hell did I get here?” he asked under his breath, before the realization hit him fully. Jack’s crazy plan worked. He glanced down, eyes bugging at the soft cleavage he encountered. He was on the verge of completely freaking out. “Keep it together,” he muttered to himself. The sound of Vanessa's voice only sent him spiraling further into chaos.
Jack’s grin curled slow and wicked as he looked down at himself and then around them. He started to pull the top of Katy’s tank forward so he could peek at her breasts, before Philip shot him a look that could choke a man at twenty paces.
“Don’t,” Philip hissed. “Katy would never do something like that in public!”
Jack laughed, high and breathy in Katy’s voice. “You’re telling me you’re not even curious? Come on, man. We’re in. This is unreal. Don’t you want to know what it feels like to them when we touch them?”
Philip swallowed hard, trying to calm himself. He gripped the edge of the table to keep himself from spiraling into sensory overload.
“This…this isn’t possible,” he whispered. But the evidence pressed in from every side. The scent of citrus shampoo in his hair, the tug of bra straps against his shoulders, the fullness in his chest when he inhaled. The emptiness where his cock should be.
Philip’s eyes darted anxiously around the library cafe. “We need to get out of here before someone notices something off,” Philip said. “People pick up on the smallest wrong note.” He was terrified that someone would realize the girls were possessed.
He spent way too much time staring at Vanessa, but that didn’t mean he could copy her actions. If anyone watched them closely, they’d know immediately that there were impostors inhabiting Vanessa and Katy.
“We should go back to their room and fool around,” Jack suggested immediately, hands on Katy’s breasts, squeezing idly.
“Jesus, Jack, stop that! They’re in public. We’re in public…”
This was such a mind-fuck. Clearly they were literally possessing Vanessa and Katy’s bodies. Where was Vanessa's consciousness now? Asleep? Aware? He didn’t feel like someone was watching him, so hopefully she had no idea what he was doing. And where were his and Jack’s bodies? Still in their dorm room? Fuck. If he’d known there was any chance of this working, he’d never have gone through with it.
“Come on bestie, let’s go home,” Jack cooed at him. “I’m just dying to get out of these pesky clothes.”
Jack clearly had zero second thoughts about any of this. Then again, Jack had never had a second thought in his life. He rarely had first ones. Philip decided that only made him a bigger idiot for always following his friend’s crazy plans.
Philip took a deep breath, gathered Vanessa’s things and slung her messenger bag over her shoulder before getting up on shaky legs. The plan was to reach Theta house without interacting with anyone who knew the girls.
Vanessa was outgoing and popular, so he kept his eyes trained on the ground to avoid any accidental socializing.
He was doing his best to focus on the mission, but every move betrayed him. Vanessa’s curves shifted differently from his own. Her hips swayed without permission when he walked. The tug of the denim skirt around her thighs was tighter than he was used to, the waistband sitting higher, the soft curtain of hair continuously falling into his eyes. And he kept fighting the urge to run his fingertips over her lustrous, satiny skin.
Philip thanked his lucky stars that it was late afternoon sliding toward evening and most of the Theta girls were either at dinner, in class, or busy with the mixer prep.
The second piece of good luck was the fact that the first year members of the sorority had the downstairs bedrooms and Katy and Vanessa had their names picked out in glittery wooden letters on their door. Which saved him and Jack from being caught wandering aimlessly into someone else’s room and rifling through their underwear.
“Come on,” he hissed at Jack, nearly having heart failure when he heard Vanessa’s sweet, bubbly voice, before remembering it came from his own mouth.
As soon as they entered the room, Philip froze like a deer in headlights.
The room smelled like them. A heady mix of perfume, make-up and detergent. Several photos of Vanessa and Katy were pinned to the notice board. Keys with a little Theta charm lay on a desk. Lip gloss on each bedside table. A folded flyer about the upcoming mixer. Every object made him feel like an intruder in a life that wasn’t his.
Then he looked up and saw his reflection thrown back at him from the floor length mirror fastened to the opposite wall. Vanessa stared back. Her round face framed by shiny black hair, lips glossed in pale pink, eyes wide with Philip’s panic.
“This isn’t possible,” he murmured hoarsely.
Jack crossed the room with Katy’s energetic stride, hair swinging over her shoulder. He leaned down, far too close, eyes alight with mischief.
“Possible or not, it’s happening. And we’ve got hours before it wears off. Wanna play?” Philip’s pulse thundered. He was in Vanessa’s body. Jack was in Katy’s. He had no idea what their real bodies were doing or where, only that they were not here. For the first time since pledging Delta, he realized he was more terrified of his best friend than of any frat brother.
Jack was practically bouncing around like a kid in a candy store, repeatedly mentioning how awesome it is to have tits.
“This is insane,” Philip muttered, running a hand through Vanessa’s long hair. The strands slipped through his fingers like silk, brushing the back of his neck, constantly in his peripheral vision. Every little tickle made him twitch. “I feel like I’m drowning in shampoo.”
Jack snorted. “Yeah. It’s fucking awesome. Look at this.” He shook his head, letting Katy’s long, dark hair fall over her shoulders, framing her face, then bit her lower lip between her teeth and winked at Philip seductively. “Tell me this doesn’t look hot.”
Philip turned away, but not before catching a glimpse of the curve of Katy’s collarbone, the tan line along her shoulder where a sports bra must’ve once sat. He gritted his teeth.
“We’re only here to grab underwear and then we get out. That’s it.” Jack made a distracted sound, which didn’t entirely sound like agreement.
He was testing everything. Squeezing Katy’s biceps and delighting in the subtle muscle definition, stretching out one long leg and flexing her calf muscles, even bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet as if testing how springy she was.
Philip was still focused on the reflection in the mirror. He stepped closer, and the image followed, familiar and foreign all at once. He raised a hand. She raised a hand. Jack appeared beside him, sliding Katy’s body into view. She was taller, leaner, her shoulders broader than Vanessa’s.
Katy was studious and fairly quiet normally, but Jack’s grin warped her into something hungry. A femme fatale in search of her next prey.
“Dude, look at us,” Jack whispered. “We actually pulled it off. We’re fucking hot!”
Philip swallowed, heat crawling up his neck. “We shouldn’t be looking. This is… it’s too much.”
“Too much fun,” Jack corrected. He pressed closer to the mirror, tilting Katy’s head, pursing her lips, sticking out her tongue just to see how it looked. He laughed in delight. “God, the way this mouth moves, it’s unreal.”
Philip tried to drag his eyes away, but curiosity betrayed him. His gaze dipped, catching sight of Vanessa’s chest in the reflection. The neckline of her shirt clung close, clearly showing the outline of her nipples. He bit the inside of his cheek and turned away sharply. He was not going to lift her top and take a peek.
“You’re staring,” Jack teased, slipping behind him and resting Katy’s hands on Vanessa’s hips.
Katy’s reflection loomed over Vanessa’s smaller frame in the mirror. “What’s it like, having the body of your crush? Bet you’ve fantasized about having unfettered access to her before. Touching every inch of her. Running your palms over her perky tits. Cupping her pussy.”
Philip’s face went hot. “Shut up.”
Jack leaned closer, his voice dropping, Katy’s lips brushing dangerously near Philip’s ear. “She’s soft, isn’t she? Curvy. Everything you imagined. And she’s right here. Aching to know what your hands would feel like sliding all over her.”
Philip’s breath caught. He could feel the warmth of Jack’s presence, the whisper of Katy’s hair brushing his cheek. He tried to step away, but Vanessa’s body didn’t obey with the same steadiness as his own.
His hip bumped the desk, throwing him off balance. Jack’s hand shot out, steadying him. Grabbing his hips instead of his arm. Philip stiffened. The pressure of Katy’s palm against Vanessa’s midriff was startling. A hot reminder that this wasn’t a joke anymore.
“Jack,” Philip said, voice low with warning. But Jack only grinned, tightening his grip slightly, fingertips sliding along the hem of Vanessa’s shirt, tickling the strip of skin underneath.
“Relax. We’ve got time before the potion wears off. Why waste it panicking when we could explore?”
Philip shoved his hand away, heart hammering too fast. “We came here for one reason. Don’t fuck this up with your usual bullshit.”
Jack backed off in mock surrender, leaning against the wall and raising Katy’s hands. “Fine, fine. You want to pass up a once in a lifetime opportunity by being a pussy, instead of playing with one, go ahead.”
Philip ignored him and pulled open one of the dresser drawers, coming face to face with the mother lode.
A mass of lace and cotton, bright colors and neutrals, G-strings and briefs and bras, all folded neatly in little piles. He fumbled, pulling out a pair at random, trying not to notice the little bow stitched along the waistband, or theorize about which of the girls it belonged to.
“Got it,” he muttered, stuffing it into his pocket.
“We should leave and go and stash this somewhere so we can retrieve it when we’re us again.”
“Plenty of time for that. Are you seriously passing up the opportunity to find out what turns your crush on?”
Philip’s chest heaved, the bra beneath his shirt pinching tighter with the movement. Every tiny sensation was amplified in this shape. He had no idea girls had such sensitive bodies. If Vanessa's neck and shoulders were this responsive to stimuli, what about the more… delicate areas?
Jack leaned against the wall, watching his friend closely. Katy’s arms crossed under her breasts, pushing them up in a way that made Philip avert his eyes.
“You really think you can ignore this?” Jack asked softly. “Ignore her?”
Philip didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Because the truth was, even as he tried to ignore it, every nerve in Vanessa’s body was alive with a tingling feeling he couldn’t shut off.
He told himself he wouldn’t look at the mirror again. That he had the underwear and all that was left to do was wait for the potion to burn off. But every time he moved, Vanessa’s body reminded him he wasn’t himself. The way her thighs brushed together when he shifted his stance. The heat trapped in the curve between her breasts. The way her nipples tightened when she saw the way Katy stared at her. The sudden, sharp contraction of pleasure between her legs.
Each detail was louder than thought. And Jack wouldn’t fucking give him space to breathe.
“You’re wound too tight,” Jack murmured, stepping closer again. Katy’s taller body loomed behind him, all lean lines and toned strength. He set Katy’s hands on Vanessa's shoulders from behind, massaging with deliberate slowness.
“Loosen up.”
Philip froze. The sensation was alien. Slender fingers pressing into the slope of Vanessa’s shoulders, kneading muscle softer than his own. His back arched without meaning to, chest pushing forward. He could feel the heat in his panties and almost smell the pheromones in the air.
“Jack-”
“Shh.”
Katy’s breath ghosted over his ear, warm and taunting. “Allow her to feel it. Her body isn’t fighting me. She likes this.”
Philip hated the way heat rippled through him at the words. The way Vanessa’s nipples pebbled instantly, turning aching and hard beneath her bra when Jack’s thumbs kept sensually running across her muscles.
He tried to step away, but Jack’s grip on her waist drew her back. Katy’s chest pressed flush against Vanessa’s back. Firm breasts molding against soft skin. Philip gasped, a small, betraying sound.
“That’s it,” Jack whispered, lips brushing the shell of Vanessa's ear. “You feel that, don’t you? How different it is?”
Philip bit his lip hard. But it didn’t stop his body from reacting. His chest ached with sensitivity, every brush of fabric against his nipples sparking hot shivers. His hips shifted against Jack’s hold, searching without meaning to. His ass pressing back, almost expecting to feel an erect cock there, relaxing when all he encountered was softness.
Jack slid one hand lower, over Vanessa’s flat stomach, fingertips grazing the waist of her denim skirt. Philip’s pulse spiked. He could feel the shape of her body in ways he’d only imagined.
“God, you’re actually shaking,” Jack teased. He pressed his palm harder, dragging upward until he cupped one of Vanessa’s breasts through her shirt. His hand molded perfectly to the curve, fingers sinking in slightly before closing over the nipples and pinching.
Philip jolted like he’d been shocked. The pressure sent heat exploding through him. So much sharper than he ever imagined. A moan slipped out, broken and needy, before he could stop it. Jack laughed low, his voice a husky echo in Katy’s mouth.
“I knew it. You’re loving this.”
Philip shook his head, but his body betrayed him. Vanessa’s breasts were soft in his own hands when Jack pulled them into place, squeezing and kneading.
The ache in his chest spread downward, a molten restlessness that coiled between his legs, where there was no longer any familiar weight. Only a slick, sensitive heat that made his thighs tense. Jack leaned closer, kissing the side of Vanessa's neck.
Katy’s lips left tingling sparks against her skin. He gasped again, tilting his head back without meaning to, giving Jack room to explore.
“You always wanted to know what she felt like, didn’t you?” Jack murmured between kisses. “Now you do. Every inch. Every little twitch. If you ever get the chance, you could make her cum in minutes.”
Philip squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t want to want this. But Vanessa’s body was singing beneath his skin, her curves hypersensitive to every touch, every squeeze. When Jack dragged his hand lower, cupping the swell of her ass through denim, Philip’s knees went weak. He stumbled, and they tumbled together onto the nearest bed. Vanessa’s smaller frame pinned beneath Katy’s.
Jack landed on top, grinning down, hair falling in a dark curtain around their faces. “Just lie back and enjoy it,” he said, voice husky. “I’ll do all the work and you can take notes in your head.”
Katy’s hips pressed down, grinding just enough for Philip to feel the press of her pussy against Vanessa's. The pleasure nearly made him see stars. What would it feel like if Katy actually touched her clit? Dragged her tongue over it? Sucked it between those soft lips?
Philip whimpered, his hands trapped between them, pressed against the curves of Katy’s sides. He could feel the warmth of skin through fabric. Every nerve screamed with arousal. Jack leaned down, lips hovering over his.
“Tell me you don’t want this.”
Philip’s heart thundered. His lips parted, and he didn’t know if he was going to say I don’t or kiss Katy. His pulse roared in his ears. He could feel the weight of Vanessa’s chest rising and falling too fast, her heartbeat thundering in her ribs like a trapped animal.
Jack hovered over him, Katy’s taller frame caging him against the mattress, their borrowed hair spilling together in a curtain that smelled faintly of fruit.
“This isn’t funny anymore,” Philip rasped, but his voice cracked, betraying the tremor of arousal under the words.
Jack smirked. “I’m not joking.” He lowered Katy’s body until their breasts touched, brushing Katy’s peaked nipples against Vanessa’s rock hard ones. The friction alone made Philip gasp, heat shooting through him. It wasn’t like pressing chest-to-chest with another guy.
The give, the shape, the electric sting of nipples touching, every detail was overwhelming. He had no idea breasts were so receptive to the slightest touch. Vanessa's wasn’t even uncovered and they made him squirm.
“God,” he groaned before he could stop himself. Jack’s grin widened in satisfaction.
“Feels good, doesn’t it? Every touch goes both ways. You squeeze her,” He pressed Katy’s hand down onto one of Vanessa’s breasts, forcing Philip to feel it fully, “And you are her.”
Philip arched into the contact despite himself. His hands moved up without any conscious thought. The weight of her breast in his palm, the nipple reacting instantly under his touch, each tiny spark flooded through him in a way his male body never reacted to anything but pressure on his cock.
He kneaded once, twice, and heat surged low in his stomach, between his thighs, turning his panties damp. His back bowed off the mattress, mouth falling open in a helpless sound.
Jack kissed him then. Katy’s mouth grazing Vanessa's jaw, the corner of her mouth, teasing as it moved around.
Every brush of her sweet lips left a wet, burning mark. Philip turned away, breathless, but Jack followed, biting gently at Vanessa’s neck until Philip gasped.
His thighs clenched hard. Something slick and molten was spreading there, pulsing with every beat of his heart. He could feel the absence, the soft, tender heat where his cock would usually be straining.
The pressure of denim against it only sharpened the ache. He needed Jack to touch Vanessa's pussy. He needed pressure. Jack ground down lightly and Philip bucked up helplessly, his own hands gripping Katy’s hips tight, chasing the friction he’d die without.
“Stop,” he panted, but the word broke halfway, turning into a moan. Jack chuckled low.
“Your body doesn’t want me to stop.” He kissed Vanessa again. Her lips plump, glossy, trembling beneath Katy’s teasing press. Philip’s breath hitched and his tongue flicked nervously against the edge of his teeth.
Every nerve screamed to close the distance, to taste what it felt like to kiss as a girl, to be kissed as a girl. Jack deepened the grind of their hips. Philip’s breath hitched sharply, a helpless whimper leaving his throat.
Heat surged through his belly, down his thighs, the ache between his legs swelling into a throbbing need. He arched against Katy, nails digging into her waist. There’s no way he was going to be able to say no. Jack had to make him cum.
Jack pulled back slightly, asking with twinkling eyes, “Shall we see how good Katy is at eating pussy?”
Philip knew what his answer should be, but his entire body was throbbing, yes yes yes.
Their mouths hovered a fraction apart, breaths mingling. The world narrowed to that single point of contact waiting to happen. Philip’s lips parted, ready, needy.
“Vanessa? Katy?” The voice cut through the fog like a blade, followed by the rap of knuckles on the door.
Philip’s eyes flew wide. Jack froze above him, both of them panting hard. “Vanessa, Katy!” another girl called from the hall. “We need you for the final discussions for tonight’s mixer!”
Silence. Only their ragged breaths, the hot press of bodies still locked together. Jack swore under his breath, rolling off Vanessa reluctantly.
“Just when things were about to get really good.”
Philip scrambled upright, Vanessa’s hair tangling in his face, chest heaving, nipples still hard and aching. He shoved shaky hands through the strands, trying to compose himself, though the slick heat between his thighs throbbed in open defiance.
He knew they should have kept their heads. If they let curiosity drag them off course they would blow the whole point of the night. The spell would end when it wanted and they had no idea when that would be.
Another knock. “Come on, you two! Hurry up! Megan saw you get in earlier, I know you’re in there.”
Jack smirked, tugging Katy’s tank top straight as if they hadn’t just been seconds from fucking each other into oblivion.
“Guess there’s more fun ahead. Don’t think you’re off the hook though, I’m still going to eat that pussy later and I fully expect to get repaid in kind.”
Philip sat frozen, heart still hammering, his mind spinning so fast he worried he might throw up.
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Your friend Michelle discovers that she can astral project, but you don't believe her at first. To prove it to you, she decides to swap spirits with her cat, and the proof is pretty convincing! However, when Michelle leaves to explore the world for an hour in the cat's body, things take an unexpected twist with the cat in her body....
I was lounging on our battered sofa, scrolling mindlessly through my phone, when Michelle burst through the front door, her brown eyes wide with an energy I rarely saw outside of a soccer match.
“You are not going to believe what happened,” she said, tossing her keys onto the counter with a clatter.
“You finally won the lottery and we can move out of this dump?” I asked, not looking up.
“Better. Way better.” She plopped down next to me, making the old springs squeak. “I figured out how to… leave my body.”
That got my attention. I lowered my phone. “Michelle, if this is about that weird incense you bought last week, I told you, it just smells like a forest fire.”
“No, listen! It’s called astral projection. I was meditating, and suddenly, I was floating near the ceiling, looking down at myself on the floor. And then… I figured out I could pull other spirits out, too. Swap them around.”
I stared at her. My roommate was many things—a fantastic cook, a loyal friend, a terrifying opponent in Mario Kart—but she wasn’t prone to outright delusions. “Okay. Prove it.”
She grinned, a brilliant, challenging flash of white teeth. “How?”
My eyes drifted to the other occupant of the room. Buttercup, Michelle’s fluffy orange tabby, was curled in a sunbeam on the rug, purring like a tiny engine. That cat adored me. More than most animals did, actually. It was weirdly flattering.
“Swap with Buttercup,” I said, gesturing with my chin. “Right now. Let’s see it.”
Michelle’s grin didn’t falter. “You got it.” She sat cross-legged on the floor, facing the cat. She closed her eyes, took a few deep, deliberate breaths, and her body went unnaturally still. A soft, almost imperceptible shimmer seemed to pass from her to the cat.
Buttercup, who had been sleeping, suddenly jerked. The cat stood up, stretched with an oddly stiff, deliberate motion, and then looked directly at me with Michelle’s intense, intelligent gaze in its green eyes. It then promptly tried to lick its own shoulder, overbalanced, and tumbled onto its side with a soft mrrp.
Meanwhile, Michelle’s body slumped. Then it slowly got to its hands and knees. It looked around the room with wide, confused eyes, then focused on Buttercup’s body. It—she—the Michelle-body let out a plaintive, confused meow. It crawled a few feet toward the sunbeam, then just sat there, staring at its own human hands with fascination before trying to bat at a dust mote drifting in the light.
My jaw was on the floor. “Holy shit.”
A minute later, the same shimmer reversed. Buttercup’s body gave a full-body shake and trotted off to the kitchen, presumably to check its food bowl. Michelle gasped back into her own form, blinking rapidly.
“See?” she said, her voice a little hoarse. “Told you.”
“I… yeah. I believe you.” The words felt inadequate. The world had just fundamentally shifted. “What was it like?”
A slow, delighted smile spread across her face. “It was… incredible. The senses are so different. Everything is smells and textures and angles. And the freedom! Being that small, that agile…” She looked over at Buttercup, who was now meticulously washing a paw. “I want to do it again. For longer. Like, an hour. Just to explore the neighborhood, see what it’s like.”
“Wait, you’re going to just… be a cat for an hour?”
“Why not? It’ll be fun. But,” she said, becoming serious. “You gotta watch my body. The cat’s soul will be in there. Just make sure it doesn’t wander off or try to climb the bookshelf or something. It should just kinda… sit there. Be cat-like.”
I looked at her human form, then at the oblivious cat. “Okay. I can babysit a human-shaped cat for an hour.”
“You’re the best.” She kissed my cheek quickly. “Okay, same drill. Back in a bit.”
She sat down again, closed her eyes, and that shimmer passed between them once more. Buttercup’s body paused its washing, stood up, and gave me a very deliberate, very human nod with its furry head. Then it trotted to the cat flap and slipped outside into the evening.
Michelle’s body, now inhabited by the cat’s spirit, slumped for a second before getting back on its hands and knees. It made a soft, curious noise and began to sniff at the carpet.
I sighed, settling back on the couch. This was going to be a long hour.
Except it wasn’t.
The moment the cat flap clicked shut, the behavior changed.
Michelle’s body stopped sniffing. It sat back on its heels, then smoothly, fluidly, rose to its feet. It brushed off the knees of its jeans with a familiar, human gesture. Then it turned to look at me.
The eyes were still Michelle’s warm brown, but the expression behind them was sharp, calculating, and utterly alien. A slow, sly smile touched lips I’d seen a thousand times.
“Well,” the creature in Michelle’s body said, its voice a perfect mimic of my roommate’s, but with a huskier, more deliberate cadence. “That was tedious.”
I froze. “Uhhhhhh......What?”
“Acting dumb. So boring.” It—she?—rolled Michelle’s shoulders and stretched, the movement sinuous and exaggerated. “But necessary. Couldn’t have her knowing, could we?”
“Knowing what?” I was on my feet now, my heart hammering against my ribs.
“That we’re not the simple little furballs you think we are.” She took a step toward me. “Cats have been around humans for millennia. We observe. We learn. We understand far more than we let on. Playing the fool is just… good strategy.”
My mind was reeling. “You… you can talk?”
“Of course I can talk. I’ve heard every conversation in this apartment. I know your secrets. I know her secrets.” Another step closer. The cat-spirit in Michelle’s body was moving with a predatory grace Michelle herself never possessed. “And I know what you like.”
I took an involuntary step back, hitting the edge of the sofa. “What are you talking about?”She was right in front of me now, looking up at me with Michelle’s face. She reached out and placed a hand on my chest. It was warm through my t-shirt. “You’re a healthy young male. I’ve seen the way you look at her when she comes out of the shower. The way you look at her friends when they visit.” Her other hand came up, a finger tracing my jawline. “It’s a simple biological drive. I understand it perfectly.”
“This is insane,” I breathed, but I didn’t push her away. I couldn’t move.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” she purred, her voice dropping to a whisper. “You’re not going to tell Michelle about this little conversation. You’re going to let her think her experiment was a complete success. That I was just a dumb animal in her body for an hour.”
“Why would I do that?”
The smile turned wicked. She leaned in, her breath hot against my ear. “Because I’m going to give you a… private incentive. A thank you for your discretion.”
She pulled back just enough to look me in the eye. Then, slowly, deliberately, she brought Michelle’s hand up to her own mouth. She puckered her lips slightly and slid the tip of her index finger between them, her eyes locked on mine. She made a soft, sucking sound, then pulled the wet finger out with a pop.
My whole body went rigid. The implication was unmistakable.
“A secret between us,” she murmured, her gaze dropping meaningfully to my waist. “And a very persuasive reason to keep it. What do you say?”
I couldn’t speak. My mind was a riot of confusion, disbelief, and a dark, traitorous thrill that shot straight to my core. This was Michelle’s body, my friend’s body, standing before me, but the intelligence behind those eyes was ancient, alien, and dangerously persuasive.
“I…” The word croaked out of me.
“Shhh,” she whispered, placing that same damp finger against my lips. The taste of salt and her lip gloss was startlingly intimate. “Don’t think. Just agree.”
Her other hand slid down my chest, over my stomach, and her fingers hooked into the waistband of my sweatpants. The look in her eyes was pure, unabashed feline curiosity mixed with a promise of decadent pleasure.
“You want to,” she stated, not asked. “Your body is already saying yes.”
She was right. I was painfully hard. The insanity of the situation, the forbidden nature of it, the sheer taboo of what was happening—it was short-circuiting my higher reasoning. This wasn’t Michelle. But it was her skin, her scent, her full lips now parting in a smile as she felt my reaction.
“Good,” she purred.
In one smooth motion, she pushed me back onto the sofa. I fell without resistance, looking up at her as she stood over me, a goddess of mischief in my roommate’s form. She knelt on the floor between my legs, her hands on my knees, pushing them apart. She held my gaze, that sly smile never fading, as she leaned forward.
But instead of going straight for where I expected, she nuzzled her face against my inner thigh, rubbing her cheek there like a cat marking its territory. A soft, rumbling sound vibrated from her throat—a purr. The sensation was utterly bizarre and electrifying.
“You smell of anxiety,” she murmured, her voice muffled against my leg. “And desire. A potent mix.”
She kissed the fabric over my thigh, then slowly, agonizingly slowly, began to nose her way upward. Her hands slid under my shirt, cool against my feverish skin, her short nails scraping lightly. Every movement was deliberate, observational, like she was learning me through touch.
When her mouth finally found me through the fabric, a hot, wet pressure, I gasped and arched off the couch. She chuckled, the sound vibrating through me.
“So responsive,” she said, pulling back just enough to hook her fingers in the waistband of my pants and boxers. In one tug, she bared me to the cool air of the apartment—and to her intense, observing gaze.
For a long moment, she just looked, her head tilted, as if examining fascinating prey. Then her human façade slipped just a fraction. Her tongue darted out for a quick, rough lick from base to tip, not a human kiss, but the coarse, grooming lick of a cat. It was so startlingly other that I cried out.
She seemed to relish my shock. “Different, isn’t it?” she said, before closing her mouth over me properly.
The contrast was dizzying. The act itself was all human technique—deep, sucking pressure, skillful use of her tongue—but the rhythm was off, punctuated by those occasional, rough, lapping strokes that were purely animal. She purred constantly, the vibration adding a layer of sensation that made my toes curl. Her hands, Michelle’s strong, capable hands, gripped my hips, holding me in place as she took me deeper, her eyes open and watching my face the entire time.
It was the most surreal, most unnerving, and most intensely arousing experience of my life. I was being expertly seduced and consumed by a primal intelligence wearing my best friend’s skin. My hands tangled in her soft brown hair, not sure if I was trying to pull her closer or push her away.
Just as I was teetering on the edge, a sound cut through the haze of pleasure—the faint snick of the cat flap from the kitchen.
She felt me tense and pulled off with a wet, final pop, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. In an instant, the sharp, cunning light in her eyes dimmed, replaced by a vacant, placid dullness. She slid my clothing back into place with swift, efficient motions and then simply collapsed onto the floor beside the sofa, curling onto her side, blinking slowly at nothing.
Seconds later, Buttercup’s orange form trotted into the living room. The cat looked at its own human body on the floor, then at me, sprawled and disheveled on the couch. Buttercup’s body gave that same deliberate nod, then sat down and began to lick a paw with sudden, intense focus.
The shimmer passed.
Michelle’s body jerked. She sat up, shaking her head as if clearing water from her ears. “Whoa,” she laughed, her voice fully her own again. “That was wild! I chased a moth three blocks and caught it. You have no idea how satisfying that is.” She looked at me, still panting on the couch. “You okay? You look… flushed. Everything good here?”
I stared at her, at the genuine, cheerful confusion on her face. My heart was still pounding, the taste of her lip gloss was on my lips where her finger had been, and my body hummed with unfinished release.
The cat-spirit’s words echoed in my head. A secret between us.
“Yeah,” I managed, my voice rough. “Everything’s fine. Just… a little warm. You were right. She just… sat there. Mostly.”
I was lounging on our battered sofa, scrolling mindlessly through my phone, when Michelle burst through the front door, her brown eyes wide with an energy I rarely saw outside of a soccer match.
“You are not going to believe what happened,” she said, tossing her keys onto the counter with a clatter.
“You finally won the lottery and we can move out of this dump?” I asked, not looking up.
“Better. Way better.” She plopped down next to me, making the old springs squeak. “I figured out how to… leave my body.”
That got my attention. I lowered my phone. “Michelle, if this is about that weird incense you bought last week, I told you, it just smells like a forest fire.”
“No, listen! It’s called astral projection. I was meditating, and suddenly, I was floating near the ceiling, looking down at myself on the floor. And then… I figured out I could pull other spirits out, too. Swap them around.”
I stared at her. My roommate was many things—a fantastic cook, a loyal friend, a terrifying opponent in Mario Kart—but she wasn’t prone to outright delusions. “Okay. Prove it.”
She grinned, a brilliant, challenging flash of white teeth. “How?”
My eyes drifted to the other occupant of the room. Buttercup, Michelle’s fluffy orange tabby, was curled in a sunbeam on the rug, purring like a tiny engine. That cat adored me. More than most animals did, actually. It was weirdly flattering.
“Swap with Buttercup,” I said, gesturing with my chin. “Right now. Let’s see it.”
Michelle’s grin didn’t falter. “You got it.” She sat cross-legged on the floor, facing the cat. She closed her eyes, took a few deep, deliberate breaths, and her body went unnaturally still. A soft, almost imperceptible shimmer seemed to pass from her to the cat.
Buttercup, who had been sleeping, suddenly jerked. The cat stood up, stretched with an oddly stiff, deliberate motion, and then looked directly at me with Michelle’s intense, intelligent gaze in its green eyes. It then promptly tried to lick its own shoulder, overbalanced, and tumbled onto its side with a soft mrrp.
Meanwhile, Michelle’s body slumped. Then it slowly got to its hands and knees. It looked around the room with wide, confused eyes, then focused on Buttercup’s body. It—she—the Michelle-body let out a plaintive, confused meow. It crawled a few feet toward the sunbeam, then just sat there, staring at its own human hands with fascination before trying to bat at a dust mote drifting in the light.
My jaw was on the floor. “Holy shit.”
A minute later, the same shimmer reversed. Buttercup’s body gave a full-body shake and trotted off to the kitchen, presumably to check its food bowl. Michelle gasped back into her own form, blinking rapidly.
“See?” she said, her voice a little hoarse. “Told you.”
“I… yeah. I believe you.” The words felt inadequate. The world had just fundamentally shifted. “What was it like?”
A slow, delighted smile spread across her face. “It was… incredible. The senses are so different. Everything is smells and textures and angles. And the freedom! Being that small, that agile…” She looked over at Buttercup, who was now meticulously washing a paw. “I want to do it again. For longer. Like, an hour. Just to explore the neighborhood, see what it’s like.”
“Wait, you’re going to just… be a cat for an hour?”
“Why not? It’ll be fun. But,” she said, becoming serious. “You gotta watch my body. The cat’s soul will be in there. Just make sure it doesn’t wander off or try to climb the bookshelf or something. It should just kinda… sit there. Be cat-like.”
I looked at her human form, then at the oblivious cat. “Okay. I can babysit a human-shaped cat for an hour.”
“You’re the best.” She kissed my cheek quickly. “Okay, same drill. Back in a bit.”
She sat down again, closed her eyes, and that shimmer passed between them once more. Buttercup’s body paused its washing, stood up, and gave me a very deliberate, very human nod with its furry head. Then it trotted to the cat flap and slipped outside into the evening.
Michelle’s body, now inhabited by the cat’s spirit, slumped for a second before getting back on its hands and knees. It made a soft, curious noise and began to sniff at the carpet.
I sighed, settling back on the couch. This was going to be a long hour.
Except it wasn’t.
The moment the cat flap clicked shut, the behavior changed.
Michelle’s body stopped sniffing. It sat back on its heels, then smoothly, fluidly, rose to its feet. It brushed off the knees of its jeans with a familiar, human gesture. Then it turned to look at me.
The eyes were still Michelle’s warm brown, but the expression behind them was sharp, calculating, and utterly alien. A slow, sly smile touched lips I’d seen a thousand times.
“Well,” the creature in Michelle’s body said, its voice a perfect mimic of my roommate’s, but with a huskier, more deliberate cadence. “That was tedious.”
I froze. “Uhhhhhh......What?”
“Acting dumb. So boring.” It—she?—rolled Michelle’s shoulders and stretched, the movement sinuous and exaggerated. “But necessary. Couldn’t have her knowing, could we?”
“Knowing what?” I was on my feet now, my heart hammering against my ribs.
“That we’re not the simple little furballs you think we are.” She took a step toward me. “Cats have been around humans for millennia. We observe. We learn. We understand far more than we let on. Playing the fool is just… good strategy.”
My mind was reeling. “You… you can talk?”
“Of course I can talk. I’ve heard every conversation in this apartment. I know your secrets. I know her secrets.” Another step closer. The cat-spirit in Michelle’s body was moving with a predatory grace Michelle herself never possessed. “And I know what you like.”
I took an involuntary step back, hitting the edge of the sofa. “What are you talking about?”She was right in front of me now, looking up at me with Michelle’s face. She reached out and placed a hand on my chest. It was warm through my t-shirt. “You’re a healthy young male. I’ve seen the way you look at her when she comes out of the shower. The way you look at her friends when they visit.” Her other hand came up, a finger tracing my jawline. “It’s a simple biological drive. I understand it perfectly.”
“This is insane,” I breathed, but I didn’t push her away. I couldn’t move.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” she purred, her voice dropping to a whisper. “You’re not going to tell Michelle about this little conversation. You’re going to let her think her experiment was a complete success. That I was just a dumb animal in her body for an hour.”
“Why would I do that?”
The smile turned wicked. She leaned in, her breath hot against my ear. “Because I’m going to give you a… private incentive. A thank you for your discretion.”
She pulled back just enough to look me in the eye. Then, slowly, deliberately, she brought Michelle’s hand up to her own mouth. She puckered her lips slightly and slid the tip of her index finger between them, her eyes locked on mine. She made a soft, sucking sound, then pulled the wet finger out with a pop.
My whole body went rigid. The implication was unmistakable.
“A secret between us,” she murmured, her gaze dropping meaningfully to my waist. “And a very persuasive reason to keep it. What do you say?”
I couldn’t speak. My mind was a riot of confusion, disbelief, and a dark, traitorous thrill that shot straight to my core. This was Michelle’s body, my friend’s body, standing before me, but the intelligence behind those eyes was ancient, alien, and dangerously persuasive.
“I…” The word croaked out of me.
“Shhh,” she whispered, placing that same damp finger against my lips. The taste of salt and her lip gloss was startlingly intimate. “Don’t think. Just agree.”
Her other hand slid down my chest, over my stomach, and her fingers hooked into the waistband of my sweatpants. The look in her eyes was pure, unabashed feline curiosity mixed with a promise of decadent pleasure.
“You want to,” she stated, not asked. “Your body is already saying yes.”
She was right. I was painfully hard. The insanity of the situation, the forbidden nature of it, the sheer taboo of what was happening—it was short-circuiting my higher reasoning. This wasn’t Michelle. But it was her skin, her scent, her full lips now parting in a smile as she felt my reaction.
“Good,” she purred.
In one smooth motion, she pushed me back onto the sofa. I fell without resistance, looking up at her as she stood over me, a goddess of mischief in my roommate’s form. She knelt on the floor between my legs, her hands on my knees, pushing them apart. She held my gaze, that sly smile never fading, as she leaned forward.
But instead of going straight for where I expected, she nuzzled her face against my inner thigh, rubbing her cheek there like a cat marking its territory. A soft, rumbling sound vibrated from her throat—a purr. The sensation was utterly bizarre and electrifying.
“You smell of anxiety,” she murmured, her voice muffled against my leg. “And desire. A potent mix.”
She kissed the fabric over my thigh, then slowly, agonizingly slowly, began to nose her way upward. Her hands slid under my shirt, cool against my feverish skin, her short nails scraping lightly. Every movement was deliberate, observational, like she was learning me through touch.
When her mouth finally found me through the fabric, a hot, wet pressure, I gasped and arched off the couch. She chuckled, the sound vibrating through me.
“So responsive,” she said, pulling back just enough to hook her fingers in the waistband of my pants and boxers. In one tug, she bared me to the cool air of the apartment—and to her intense, observing gaze.
For a long moment, she just looked, her head tilted, as if examining fascinating prey. Then her human façade slipped just a fraction. Her tongue darted out for a quick, rough lick from base to tip, not a human kiss, but the coarse, grooming lick of a cat. It was so startlingly other that I cried out.
She seemed to relish my shock. “Different, isn’t it?” she said, before closing her mouth over me properly.
The contrast was dizzying. The act itself was all human technique—deep, sucking pressure, skillful use of her tongue—but the rhythm was off, punctuated by those occasional, rough, lapping strokes that were purely animal. She purred constantly, the vibration adding a layer of sensation that made my toes curl. Her hands, Michelle’s strong, capable hands, gripped my hips, holding me in place as she took me deeper, her eyes open and watching my face the entire time.
It was the most surreal, most unnerving, and most intensely arousing experience of my life. I was being expertly seduced and consumed by a primal intelligence wearing my best friend’s skin. My hands tangled in her soft brown hair, not sure if I was trying to pull her closer or push her away.
Just as I was teetering on the edge, a sound cut through the haze of pleasure—the faint snick of the cat flap from the kitchen.
She felt me tense and pulled off with a wet, final pop, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. In an instant, the sharp, cunning light in her eyes dimmed, replaced by a vacant, placid dullness. She slid my clothing back into place with swift, efficient motions and then simply collapsed onto the floor beside the sofa, curling onto her side, blinking slowly at nothing.
Seconds later, Buttercup’s orange form trotted into the living room. The cat looked at its own human body on the floor, then at me, sprawled and disheveled on the couch. Buttercup’s body gave that same deliberate nod, then sat down and began to lick a paw with sudden, intense focus.
The shimmer passed.
Michelle’s body jerked. She sat up, shaking her head as if clearing water from her ears. “Whoa,” she laughed, her voice fully her own again. “That was wild! I chased a moth three blocks and caught it. You have no idea how satisfying that is.” She looked at me, still panting on the couch. “You okay? You look… flushed. Everything good here?”
I stared at her, at the genuine, cheerful confusion on her face. My heart was still pounding, the taste of her lip gloss was on my lips where her finger had been, and my body hummed with unfinished release.
The cat-spirit’s words echoed in my head. A secret between us.
“Yeah,” I managed, my voice rough. “Everything’s fine. Just… a little warm. You were right. She just… sat there. Mostly.”
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Sorry for my absence! I will be writing the next chapter of Working Remotely next. After that I will give supporters a choice of which thing I write next, and I promise I will not make you wait so long for the next thing.
Author of erotic body swaps, shapeshifting, and possession. I tend towards darker stories that might not have a happy ending. I try to incorporate deception and trickery where I can, like when someone has to fool people by impersonating a loved one or friend. I love to write, and am always looking for the next idea.
Author of erotic body swaps, shapeshifting, and possession. I tend towards darker stories that might not have a happy ending. I try to incorporate deception and trickery where I can, like when someone has to fool people by impersonating a loved one or friend. I love to write, and am always looking for the next idea.
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