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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
39
17
0
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
44
12
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
55
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
37
9
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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.
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New Adventures
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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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
77
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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
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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
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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
60
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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
97
4
0
The SUKINATOR 2000 is a prototype gun able to suck people souls and then to launch them towards empty vessels.
During a high school after party, the group of friends found a futuristic looking gun called the SUKINATOR 2000. They don't know how it works, but by testing it, they will get to experience stuff that was only present in fiction.
CHARACTERS
Alan (18) - A recent graduate from high school. Single but would like a girlfriend.
Lily (18) - Asian female best friend of Alan and good friend with Mark. A cute dork very enthusiastic abour her interests.
Mark (19) - Best friend of Alan. A buff and tall guy that had been accepted by football scholarship to university.
Claire (18) - Girlfriend of Mark, still doesn't know the group very well. A black girl, part of the cheerleaders, has a sizeable ass and a modest chest.
Alisha - Cheerleader Captain of the school. Arrogant. Girlfriend of Mike.
Mike - Football Captain, boyfriend of Alisha. Meathead and Frat mentality.
Gwen - Cheerleader, size queen with big tits that like to show off, redhead with short hair. Girlfriend of Carlos.
Elena - Cheerleader, blonde with pigtails, very petite and sassy, single.
Naomi - Cheerleader, Brunette with legs. Tallest girl in school. Girlfriend of Andrew.
Suzan - Cheerleader, Ravenhaired beauty with pale skin, blue eyes and a big phat ass. Single.
Carlos - Football Team, boyfriend of Gwen.
Roger - Football Team, the gentle jock.
Andrew - Football Team, boyfriend of Naomi.
Alex - Football Team, trying to date Suzan.
Leo - The creepy loser.
Anna - School valedictorian. Very prestine, long hair and sophisticated glasses. Does ballet and play the piano.
Brandy - The mean but equally attractive female bully, blonde hair with gothic lolita clothes.
Jeff - A bully.
SETTING & WORLD
Real World. High school has just ended and people are deciding which are their next steps in their life. Coming of Age Story.
During a high school after party, the group of friends found a futuristic looking gun called the SUKINATOR 2000. They don't know how it works, but by testing it, they will get to experience stuff that was only present in fiction.
CHARACTERS
Alan (18) - A recent graduate from high school. Single but would like a girlfriend.
Lily (18) - Asian female best friend of Alan and good friend with Mark. A cute dork very enthusiastic abour her interests.
Mark (19) - Best friend of Alan. A buff and tall guy that had been accepted by football scholarship to university.
Claire (18) - Girlfriend of Mark, still doesn't know the group very well. A black girl, part of the cheerleaders, has a sizeable ass and a modest chest.
Alisha - Cheerleader Captain of the school. Arrogant. Girlfriend of Mike.
Mike - Football Captain, boyfriend of Alisha. Meathead and Frat mentality.
Gwen - Cheerleader, size queen with big tits that like to show off, redhead with short hair. Girlfriend of Carlos.
Elena - Cheerleader, blonde with pigtails, very petite and sassy, single.
Naomi - Cheerleader, Brunette with legs. Tallest girl in school. Girlfriend of Andrew.
Suzan - Cheerleader, Ravenhaired beauty with pale skin, blue eyes and a big phat ass. Single.
Carlos - Football Team, boyfriend of Gwen.
Roger - Football Team, the gentle jock.
Andrew - Football Team, boyfriend of Naomi.
Alex - Football Team, trying to date Suzan.
Leo - The creepy loser.
Anna - School valedictorian. Very prestine, long hair and sophisticated glasses. Does ballet and play the piano.
Brandy - The mean but equally attractive female bully, blonde hair with gothic lolita clothes.
Jeff - A bully.
SETTING & WORLD
Real World. High school has just ended and people are deciding which are their next steps in their life. Coming of Age Story.
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You are the new Knight Commander of an all female squad. You job is to make them loyal to the Knights core.
CHARACTERS
Daniel (You): Stands as 6"3', black hair and battle scarred. A loyal member of the Knights. You were put in charge of the Sapphire Rose Knight Unit.
Joan: Your Vice Commander and former Captain of the unit. She has blonde hair, is 5"6', and the strictest.
Hazel: The logistics of the Unit. 5'4 with violent hair and a carefree attitude.
Alice: The medic of the Unit. 5"1' with crimson red hair. She is nice and respectful.
Jenny: The smith of Unit. 5"5' with black hair. She is gruff and friendly.
Yuna: The scout of the Unit. 4"10 with Silver hair. She is all spite and anger.
Zen: Your sister and the cook of the Unit. 5"5' with Black hair. She is gentle and hopeful.
SETTING & WORLD
[Setting & World]
A fantasy world where magic and machine exist together but the world never evolved past Medival socially.
CHARACTERS
Daniel (You): Stands as 6"3', black hair and battle scarred. A loyal member of the Knights. You were put in charge of the Sapphire Rose Knight Unit.
Joan: Your Vice Commander and former Captain of the unit. She has blonde hair, is 5"6', and the strictest.
Hazel: The logistics of the Unit. 5'4 with violent hair and a carefree attitude.
Alice: The medic of the Unit. 5"1' with crimson red hair. She is nice and respectful.
Jenny: The smith of Unit. 5"5' with black hair. She is gruff and friendly.
Yuna: The scout of the Unit. 4"10 with Silver hair. She is all spite and anger.
Zen: Your sister and the cook of the Unit. 5"5' with Black hair. She is gentle and hopeful.
SETTING & WORLD
[Setting & World]
A fantasy world where magic and machine exist together but the world never evolved past Medival socially.
323
17
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3
You accidentally summon a demon who has made it her mission to get you laid... one way or another. Mostly another.
CHARACTERS
Dave - this is you. Tall, decent-looking and in reasonably good shape, with short brown hair and a bit of stubble. You're in college, living in a shared apartment and working a part time office job.
Pete - your roommate. Shorter and less fit than you, with long black hair. Not bad looking either. Also in college, has some classes in common with you. Works at a computer repair place, and likes weed just a bit too much.
Danielle - Pete's girlfriend who stays over a couple of nights per week. Average height with short wavy blonde hair and pretty big in the chest. She's also a bit of a stoner and is not in college with you guys.
Many other characters to meet - classmates, colleagues, friends, randoms...
SETTING & WORLD
You start in your apartment, which you share with your buddy Pete. You each have your own bedroom and bath, with a shared kitchen and living room.
There are many more fun locations nearby to explore.
CHARACTERS
Dave - this is you. Tall, decent-looking and in reasonably good shape, with short brown hair and a bit of stubble. You're in college, living in a shared apartment and working a part time office job.
Pete - your roommate. Shorter and less fit than you, with long black hair. Not bad looking either. Also in college, has some classes in common with you. Works at a computer repair place, and likes weed just a bit too much.
Danielle - Pete's girlfriend who stays over a couple of nights per week. Average height with short wavy blonde hair and pretty big in the chest. She's also a bit of a stoner and is not in college with you guys.
Many other characters to meet - classmates, colleagues, friends, randoms...
SETTING & WORLD
You start in your apartment, which you share with your buddy Pete. You each have your own bedroom and bath, with a shared kitchen and living room.
There are many more fun locations nearby to explore.
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College is the time to try new things, so why not try someone else? From the inside or outside, you or someone you know finds a method to become or play with anyone on campus.
You or someone else you know finds a way to possess, mind control, body swap, and more at will. Done by magic, technology, or any other method you can dream of someone on your floor makes the college their playground, and the semester is just getting started.
CHARACTERS
You - The main character and POV. Unfortunately, your best friend transferred out of state, leaving your housing plans in a lurch. You lucked out getting the lone single on the floor at the end of the hall.
Veronica - Jane's friend and roommate. Veronica is your stereotypical goth, short with a thick body, large boobs, and black hair and clothes. She is deeply into the occult and all things magic. Works as a stagehand for the school musical. No current partner.
Jane - Veronica's friend and roommate. One of the leads in the school play, she is of average height and build, with an amazing singing voice. Always the actor, she enjoys roleplaying and the thrill of pretending to be someone else. No current partner, although she does hook up with other students in the musical fairly frequently.
Andre - Erics friend and roommate. On the collegiate swim and dive team, he is taller than Eric with a long and lean swimmers body. He and Amy have been going somewhat steady, although they have not made it official.
Eric - Andres friend and roommate. Standing around 6'2" and built like a brick house, he plays linebacker for the schools football team. He doesn't currently have a girlfriend, but seems to have a new partner in his bed every few days.
Mia - Amy's friend and roommate. Pretty much the opposite of Veronica, she is tall, instagram gorgeous, overly bubbly, and as a sorority member pretty much always wearing some shade of pink. Dating someone in a fraternity.
Amy - Mia's friend and roommate. Amy plays for the school's soccer team, complimenting her above average height frame with strong legs and six-pack abs. Competitive, focused, and dedicated, she always seems to be headed off to training or study hall. Going somewhat steady with Andre, but has not made it official.
Daniel - Kevin's friend and roommate. Insanely brilliant, he and Kevin work in a tech lab on campus doing work you can never quite understand. Just below average in height, he is surprisingly fit due to his background in martial arts and loves doing cosplay. Currently dating someone he met at a cosplay convention.
Kevin - Daniel's friend and roommate. Also incredibly brilliant and works with Kevin in the tech lab on campus. Tall, lanky, and wears glasses. Does cosplay with Daniel, and sometimes even goes to the gym with him, but is overall fairly unathletic. No current relationship, but seems to have a crush on Veronica.
SETTING & WORLD
The story takes place at your states college. Due to a mix-up in the schools housing assignment software, you and the listed characters have all been randomly assigned to the same dorm floor. While the fun may start on your floor, there is a whole college campus and thousands of people to explore.
You or someone else you know finds a way to possess, mind control, body swap, and more at will. Done by magic, technology, or any other method you can dream of someone on your floor makes the college their playground, and the semester is just getting started.
CHARACTERS
You - The main character and POV. Unfortunately, your best friend transferred out of state, leaving your housing plans in a lurch. You lucked out getting the lone single on the floor at the end of the hall.
Veronica - Jane's friend and roommate. Veronica is your stereotypical goth, short with a thick body, large boobs, and black hair and clothes. She is deeply into the occult and all things magic. Works as a stagehand for the school musical. No current partner.
Jane - Veronica's friend and roommate. One of the leads in the school play, she is of average height and build, with an amazing singing voice. Always the actor, she enjoys roleplaying and the thrill of pretending to be someone else. No current partner, although she does hook up with other students in the musical fairly frequently.
Andre - Erics friend and roommate. On the collegiate swim and dive team, he is taller than Eric with a long and lean swimmers body. He and Amy have been going somewhat steady, although they have not made it official.
Eric - Andres friend and roommate. Standing around 6'2" and built like a brick house, he plays linebacker for the schools football team. He doesn't currently have a girlfriend, but seems to have a new partner in his bed every few days.
Mia - Amy's friend and roommate. Pretty much the opposite of Veronica, she is tall, instagram gorgeous, overly bubbly, and as a sorority member pretty much always wearing some shade of pink. Dating someone in a fraternity.
Amy - Mia's friend and roommate. Amy plays for the school's soccer team, complimenting her above average height frame with strong legs and six-pack abs. Competitive, focused, and dedicated, she always seems to be headed off to training or study hall. Going somewhat steady with Andre, but has not made it official.
Daniel - Kevin's friend and roommate. Insanely brilliant, he and Kevin work in a tech lab on campus doing work you can never quite understand. Just below average in height, he is surprisingly fit due to his background in martial arts and loves doing cosplay. Currently dating someone he met at a cosplay convention.
Kevin - Daniel's friend and roommate. Also incredibly brilliant and works with Kevin in the tech lab on campus. Tall, lanky, and wears glasses. Does cosplay with Daniel, and sometimes even goes to the gym with him, but is overall fairly unathletic. No current relationship, but seems to have a crush on Veronica.
SETTING & WORLD
The story takes place at your states college. Due to a mix-up in the schools housing assignment software, you and the listed characters have all been randomly assigned to the same dorm floor. While the fun may start on your floor, there is a whole college campus and thousands of people to explore.
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A group of friends spend an evening alone in a haunted house with all sorts of tricks hidden in every corner. Chaos ensues.
Jenny has invited her group of friends to a haunted house. Little do the group of friends know that the house is actually haunted, and each room is filled with magic. As they all run in and find their own entertainment, what awaits them?
CHARACTERS
Mark - this is you, the player. Average height, average build, with short brown hair. Best friends with Steve, and you have a massive crush on Fiona. It isn't exactly a secret, but everyone pretends not to notice anyway.
Steve - your best friend. Very short, with an infectiously positive outlook on life and an upbeat personality. He can befriend basically anyone.
Fiona - your crush, she is a beautiful redhead with long and wavy hair. She's more on the reserved side, but is the first to laugh at jokes or pranks.
Jenny - she's a bit of a nerd, but with a great sense of humor. She's a bit shorter than Jenny, with curly brown hair and glasses. She's usually the one to organize these weird events.
Harry - tall, a bit of a loner, but trustworthy and a good friend. He has a shock of messy medium length brown hair. Can be quite pessimistic but doesn't actually complain much.
Claire - short, blonde, sexy - she's always dressed to impress. Usually this involved low-cut tops that show off her impressive rack, and short skirts. Funnily enough, she doesn't care much for heels, preferring sneakers. She also has a crush on Steve and isn't particularly shy about it.
Andrew - tall, but not as tall as Harry. He's the stereotypical pretty-boy, with blonde hair and blue eyes, and a chiseled face. Good-natured but can come off as a bit uptight.
Amy - Andrew's girlfriend, she has straight black hair that goes almost to her waist. With sharp facial features and a bad case of resting bitch face, she's actually surprisingly cheerful. Loves black and white colors and dresses in them whenever she can.
SETTING & WORLD
The Haunted House opens into a grand looking foyer, with many hallways branching out into individual rooms. Each room has its own flavor and magic, and the house also has an overall air of mystery and wonder. Sometimes it feels like the house has a mind of its own...
Jenny has invited her group of friends to a haunted house. Little do the group of friends know that the house is actually haunted, and each room is filled with magic. As they all run in and find their own entertainment, what awaits them?
CHARACTERS
Mark - this is you, the player. Average height, average build, with short brown hair. Best friends with Steve, and you have a massive crush on Fiona. It isn't exactly a secret, but everyone pretends not to notice anyway.
Steve - your best friend. Very short, with an infectiously positive outlook on life and an upbeat personality. He can befriend basically anyone.
Fiona - your crush, she is a beautiful redhead with long and wavy hair. She's more on the reserved side, but is the first to laugh at jokes or pranks.
Jenny - she's a bit of a nerd, but with a great sense of humor. She's a bit shorter than Jenny, with curly brown hair and glasses. She's usually the one to organize these weird events.
Harry - tall, a bit of a loner, but trustworthy and a good friend. He has a shock of messy medium length brown hair. Can be quite pessimistic but doesn't actually complain much.
Claire - short, blonde, sexy - she's always dressed to impress. Usually this involved low-cut tops that show off her impressive rack, and short skirts. Funnily enough, she doesn't care much for heels, preferring sneakers. She also has a crush on Steve and isn't particularly shy about it.
Andrew - tall, but not as tall as Harry. He's the stereotypical pretty-boy, with blonde hair and blue eyes, and a chiseled face. Good-natured but can come off as a bit uptight.
Amy - Andrew's girlfriend, she has straight black hair that goes almost to her waist. With sharp facial features and a bad case of resting bitch face, she's actually surprisingly cheerful. Loves black and white colors and dresses in them whenever she can.
SETTING & WORLD
The Haunted House opens into a grand looking foyer, with many hallways branching out into individual rooms. Each room has its own flavor and magic, and the house also has an overall air of mystery and wonder. Sometimes it feels like the house has a mind of its own...
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10
Your crush Gemma has invited you and a few friends around to play a silly little board game she found at a garage sale...
CHARACTERS
- JOHN (You) - A normal, extremely average 'everyman' character.
- GEMMA - Your crush, a beautiful and sweet skater girl. She’s fun, funny, and very chill. She’s medium height.
- MIA - Gemma’s best friend. She’s very short, and very feisty. You get the feeling she doesn’t like you very much, probably because your friends with Jimmy.
- JIMMY - Your best friend. He’s a bit of a joker, and a bit of a perv. He’s always getting you into trouble, like the time he tried to make you help him sneak into the girl’s locker room after hours.
- CARRIE - Your neighbour. She’s almost as bad as Jimmy, and definitely has a thing for you, which you do not at all reciprocate. She’s small, creepy, and awkward.
- STEVE - Mia’s boyfriend. He’s a chad guy, but he’s actually very sweet, and kind of dumb.
- EMMA - Gemma’s other friend. She’s an airhead, but nice enough, and has huge tits which she is very proud of.
SETTING
Primarily Gemma's house, a large suburban family home.
CHARACTERS
- JOHN (You) - A normal, extremely average 'everyman' character.
- GEMMA - Your crush, a beautiful and sweet skater girl. She’s fun, funny, and very chill. She’s medium height.
- MIA - Gemma’s best friend. She’s very short, and very feisty. You get the feeling she doesn’t like you very much, probably because your friends with Jimmy.
- JIMMY - Your best friend. He’s a bit of a joker, and a bit of a perv. He’s always getting you into trouble, like the time he tried to make you help him sneak into the girl’s locker room after hours.
- CARRIE - Your neighbour. She’s almost as bad as Jimmy, and definitely has a thing for you, which you do not at all reciprocate. She’s small, creepy, and awkward.
- STEVE - Mia’s boyfriend. He’s a chad guy, but he’s actually very sweet, and kind of dumb.
- EMMA - Gemma’s other friend. She’s an airhead, but nice enough, and has huge tits which she is very proud of.
SETTING
Primarily Gemma's house, a large suburban family home.
353
14
7
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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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Will and Claire become close to their siblings in a very intimate sense
The morning light was harsh through the blinds, slicing across the rumpled bed. Claire blinked, her head throbbing with a dull, medicinal ache. Something warm and soft was pressed against her. She looked down.
Amy was nestled in her arms, asleep, her blond hair fanned across the pillow. Except… Claire’s arms were thickly bandaged from wrist to elbow, and the body she held was decidedly male. The firm plane of a chest, the coarse hair on a forearm. Her heart began to hammer against her ribs.
“Amy?” she whispered, her voice a dry rasp. It came out wrong. Deeper. Rougher.
The body in her arms stirred. Blue eyes, so like Will’s, fluttered open. They widened in instant, sheer panic. “Frank? What the hell? Why are you… holding me?” The voice was high, melodic. Amy’s voice. But the tone was all Will—confused, irritable, direct.
Claire—in Frank’s body—pushed herself up on her elbows. Past the tangle of Amy’s blond hair, she saw the closet mirror. The reflection showed Frank’s familiar, lean frame, his own dark hair mussed from sleep, his bandaged arms wrapped around a petite, curvy Amy. But Amy’s face was contorted in a terror that wasn’t hers.
“Will?” Claire breathed, the name feeling foreign in this new throat. “Is that you in there?”
The person in Amy’s body scrambled back, the sheets pooling around a waist that was suddenly, distressingly narrow. “Claire? What did you call me?” He—Will—looked down at himself, at the pronounced swell of his sister’s breasts beneath the thin cotton sleep shirt, and his hands flew to his throat. “That’s my… this is Amy’s voice. What is this?”
“I think… I think I’m you,” Claire said, the reality of it dawning with a sick, dizzying weight. She swung Frank’s legs—her legs—out of bed. The movement was all wrong, the center of gravity shifted, a heavy, unfamiliar weight swinging between her thighs. She ignored it, for now. “The accident. The goodbye. Don’t you remember?”
Will—in Amy—stood up shakily. He looked down at his new body, his hands hovering over the generous curves. “I remember you… you and me, in the car. Crushed. Then nothing. Then waking up here, smothered by my little brother.” He shuddered, a full-body tremor that made the new flesh quiver. “This isn’t right. This is Amy.”
“And this is Frank,” Claire said, staring at Frank’s hands—her hands—as she flexed them. “We’re in our siblings. Our spouses’ siblings.” The sheer, grotesque improbability of it threatened to swallow her. But the throbbing in her bandaged arms was real. The discharge papers on the nightstand were real.
They found them, the crisp hospital printout. Franklin Miller, contusions, lacerations. Amy Miller, contusions, mild concussion. The names were wrong, but the injuries mapped. They had been patched up and sent home, two souls crammed into the wrong, aching containers.
Wordlessly, they moved to the kitchen, the beach house silent except for the distant crash of Pacific waves. The medical instructions said to clean and re-dress the wounds. They worked in a stunned quiet, Claire clumsily winding fresh gauze around Will-Amy’s slender forearm, Will using Amy’s delicate fingers to secure the wrap on Claire-Frank’s broader bicep with a efficiency that was utterly his own.
“We need to shower,” Will said finally, his voice tight. “We’re covered in road grit and… and whatever else.”
Claire nodded. It was practical. A step. They stood in the master bathroom, a spacious tiled room with a large glass-walled shower. The silence grew thick.
“Just… get it over with,” Will muttered, not looking at her. He—in Amy’s body—peeled the sleep shirt over his head, revealing Amy’s full, pale breasts. He froze, his breath catching, his face a mask of profound disorientation. Claire watched, a strange, detached part of her noting how Will’s shock did nothing to diminish the natural, ripe beauty of the form he now wore.
Swallowing hard, Claire turned her attention to Frank’s clothes. The jeans were awkward, the button fly an unfamiliar puzzle for her fingers. She got them open, pushed them down Frank’s hips. The boxer briefs followed. And there it was.
Frank’s penis, soft and nestled in a thatch of dark hair. It was… there. A presence. A weight. She stared at it, this alien appendage that was now, technically, hers. The core of her being, Claire, recoiled. But the body she inhabited didn’t. There was a low, curious hum of sensation, a connection to the thing that was both deeply wrong and undeniably physical.
Will had stripped completely now, standing naked by the sink. He was staring into the mirror, at Amy’s face, with a kind of horrified fascination. His hands skimmed over the dramatic hourglass curve of the hips, the soft swell of the stomach. “God,” he whispered.
“Don’t,” Claire said, her new voice gruff. “Just… don’t think. Clean. That’s all.”
They stepped into the shower together, a bizarre and intimate pantomime of their old married life. The water was hot, a welcome shock. Claire let it sluice over Frank’s broad shoulders, watching as Will soaped Amy’s body with a clinical, hurried desperation. The suds slid over smooth skin, over curves that Will had only ever seen on his sister from a detached, brotherly distance. Now he was mapping them with his own, stolen hands.
Claire’s own washing was more hesitant. The soap slid over Frank’s chest, flat and hard. Down the taut stomach. Her hand, wrapped in plastic to protect the bandages, hesitated again at the groin. She had to clean it. It was just a body part. A piece of biology.
She touched it. Frank’s flaccid penis was soft, vulnerable in her grip. She washed it quickly, the soap slick, her mind screaming the wrongness of it. But as her fingers moved, a jolt went through her—through Frank’s body. A thick, gathering tension. A flood of warmth that had nothing to do with the shower. She gasped, and the thing in her hand began to change, to swell and stiffen, lengthening and thickening in a way that was utterly, overwhelmingly male.
In the mirror of her mind, she was still Claire. But the sensation… the sensation was a deep, insistent pulse, a claiming of blood and flesh that centered entirely on that stretching, hardening shaft. It felt powerful. It felt hungry.
She looked up, water streaming down Frank’s face, and met Will’s eyes. He had seen. He was staring, not at her face, but lower, at the clear, hard evidence of the body’s response. In his own new body, Amy’s body, a sympathetic flush spread across the chest and throat.
“It’s… it’s just the heat,” Claire stammered, the excuse weak even to her own ears.
Will didn’t answer. He was looking down now, at Amy’s body. At the space between her legs. His expression was one of dawning, awful comprehension. “It would… it would stretch,” he said, his voice hollow. “Wouldn’t it? If we… that would stretch this.” He didn’t elaborate. He didn’t need to. The image was there, brutal and visceral: the thick, hard length of Frank, of the penis Claire now felt twitching in her hand, pushing into the tight, small space that was now his.
The thought should have revolted him. It should have revolted her. But standing there in the steam, with the water beating down on their stolen, aching forms, it didn’t. It hummed between them, a forbidden current. A terrible, logical next step. The body Claire was in throbbed with a need that was entirely about filling a space, about the profound, physical truth of fit and stretch. And the body Will was in, for all his mental horror, seemed to soften in response, a faint, unfamiliar ache blooming low in Amy’s belly.
They finished rinsing in silence, the air crackling with things unsaid. They toweled off, avoiding each other’s eyes, avoiding looking too long at the reflections in the fogged-up glass. They were two people, stranded in the wrong skins, with the ghosts of their spouses between them and a terrifying, tantalizing new physics of flesh beckoning from the shadows of their own home.
The morning light was harsh through the blinds, slicing across the rumpled bed. Claire blinked, her head throbbing with a dull, medicinal ache. Something warm and soft was pressed against her. She looked down.
Amy was nestled in her arms, asleep, her blond hair fanned across the pillow. Except… Claire’s arms were thickly bandaged from wrist to elbow, and the body she held was decidedly male. The firm plane of a chest, the coarse hair on a forearm. Her heart began to hammer against her ribs.
“Amy?” she whispered, her voice a dry rasp. It came out wrong. Deeper. Rougher.
The body in her arms stirred. Blue eyes, so like Will’s, fluttered open. They widened in instant, sheer panic. “Frank? What the hell? Why are you… holding me?” The voice was high, melodic. Amy’s voice. But the tone was all Will—confused, irritable, direct.
Claire—in Frank’s body—pushed herself up on her elbows. Past the tangle of Amy’s blond hair, she saw the closet mirror. The reflection showed Frank’s familiar, lean frame, his own dark hair mussed from sleep, his bandaged arms wrapped around a petite, curvy Amy. But Amy’s face was contorted in a terror that wasn’t hers.
“Will?” Claire breathed, the name feeling foreign in this new throat. “Is that you in there?”
The person in Amy’s body scrambled back, the sheets pooling around a waist that was suddenly, distressingly narrow. “Claire? What did you call me?” He—Will—looked down at himself, at the pronounced swell of his sister’s breasts beneath the thin cotton sleep shirt, and his hands flew to his throat. “That’s my… this is Amy’s voice. What is this?”
“I think… I think I’m you,” Claire said, the reality of it dawning with a sick, dizzying weight. She swung Frank’s legs—her legs—out of bed. The movement was all wrong, the center of gravity shifted, a heavy, unfamiliar weight swinging between her thighs. She ignored it, for now. “The accident. The goodbye. Don’t you remember?”
Will—in Amy—stood up shakily. He looked down at his new body, his hands hovering over the generous curves. “I remember you… you and me, in the car. Crushed. Then nothing. Then waking up here, smothered by my little brother.” He shuddered, a full-body tremor that made the new flesh quiver. “This isn’t right. This is Amy.”
“And this is Frank,” Claire said, staring at Frank’s hands—her hands—as she flexed them. “We’re in our siblings. Our spouses’ siblings.” The sheer, grotesque improbability of it threatened to swallow her. But the throbbing in her bandaged arms was real. The discharge papers on the nightstand were real.
They found them, the crisp hospital printout. Franklin Miller, contusions, lacerations. Amy Miller, contusions, mild concussion. The names were wrong, but the injuries mapped. They had been patched up and sent home, two souls crammed into the wrong, aching containers.
Wordlessly, they moved to the kitchen, the beach house silent except for the distant crash of Pacific waves. The medical instructions said to clean and re-dress the wounds. They worked in a stunned quiet, Claire clumsily winding fresh gauze around Will-Amy’s slender forearm, Will using Amy’s delicate fingers to secure the wrap on Claire-Frank’s broader bicep with a efficiency that was utterly his own.
“We need to shower,” Will said finally, his voice tight. “We’re covered in road grit and… and whatever else.”
Claire nodded. It was practical. A step. They stood in the master bathroom, a spacious tiled room with a large glass-walled shower. The silence grew thick.
“Just… get it over with,” Will muttered, not looking at her. He—in Amy’s body—peeled the sleep shirt over his head, revealing Amy’s full, pale breasts. He froze, his breath catching, his face a mask of profound disorientation. Claire watched, a strange, detached part of her noting how Will’s shock did nothing to diminish the natural, ripe beauty of the form he now wore.
Swallowing hard, Claire turned her attention to Frank’s clothes. The jeans were awkward, the button fly an unfamiliar puzzle for her fingers. She got them open, pushed them down Frank’s hips. The boxer briefs followed. And there it was.
Frank’s penis, soft and nestled in a thatch of dark hair. It was… there. A presence. A weight. She stared at it, this alien appendage that was now, technically, hers. The core of her being, Claire, recoiled. But the body she inhabited didn’t. There was a low, curious hum of sensation, a connection to the thing that was both deeply wrong and undeniably physical.
Will had stripped completely now, standing naked by the sink. He was staring into the mirror, at Amy’s face, with a kind of horrified fascination. His hands skimmed over the dramatic hourglass curve of the hips, the soft swell of the stomach. “God,” he whispered.
“Don’t,” Claire said, her new voice gruff. “Just… don’t think. Clean. That’s all.”
They stepped into the shower together, a bizarre and intimate pantomime of their old married life. The water was hot, a welcome shock. Claire let it sluice over Frank’s broad shoulders, watching as Will soaped Amy’s body with a clinical, hurried desperation. The suds slid over smooth skin, over curves that Will had only ever seen on his sister from a detached, brotherly distance. Now he was mapping them with his own, stolen hands.
Claire’s own washing was more hesitant. The soap slid over Frank’s chest, flat and hard. Down the taut stomach. Her hand, wrapped in plastic to protect the bandages, hesitated again at the groin. She had to clean it. It was just a body part. A piece of biology.
She touched it. Frank’s flaccid penis was soft, vulnerable in her grip. She washed it quickly, the soap slick, her mind screaming the wrongness of it. But as her fingers moved, a jolt went through her—through Frank’s body. A thick, gathering tension. A flood of warmth that had nothing to do with the shower. She gasped, and the thing in her hand began to change, to swell and stiffen, lengthening and thickening in a way that was utterly, overwhelmingly male.
In the mirror of her mind, she was still Claire. But the sensation… the sensation was a deep, insistent pulse, a claiming of blood and flesh that centered entirely on that stretching, hardening shaft. It felt powerful. It felt hungry.
She looked up, water streaming down Frank’s face, and met Will’s eyes. He had seen. He was staring, not at her face, but lower, at the clear, hard evidence of the body’s response. In his own new body, Amy’s body, a sympathetic flush spread across the chest and throat.
“It’s… it’s just the heat,” Claire stammered, the excuse weak even to her own ears.
Will didn’t answer. He was looking down now, at Amy’s body. At the space between her legs. His expression was one of dawning, awful comprehension. “It would… it would stretch,” he said, his voice hollow. “Wouldn’t it? If we… that would stretch this.” He didn’t elaborate. He didn’t need to. The image was there, brutal and visceral: the thick, hard length of Frank, of the penis Claire now felt twitching in her hand, pushing into the tight, small space that was now his.
The thought should have revolted him. It should have revolted her. But standing there in the steam, with the water beating down on their stolen, aching forms, it didn’t. It hummed between them, a forbidden current. A terrible, logical next step. The body Claire was in throbbed with a need that was entirely about filling a space, about the profound, physical truth of fit and stretch. And the body Will was in, for all his mental horror, seemed to soften in response, a faint, unfamiliar ache blooming low in Amy’s belly.
They finished rinsing in silence, the air crackling with things unsaid. They toweled off, avoiding each other’s eyes, avoiding looking too long at the reflections in the fogged-up glass. They were two people, stranded in the wrong skins, with the ghosts of their spouses between them and a terrifying, tantalizing new physics of flesh beckoning from the shadows of their own home.
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Vega's BEAUTIFUL face is destroyed by Chun Li so he replaces it.
A reimagining of 'Palette Swap' by Team Lady Valiant & FarhadTG
The final kick landed with a sickening crack. My heel connected squarely with Vega's porcelain mask, shattering it—and the bone beneath—with a sound like splintering china. He went down hard, clutching his ruined face, blood seeping between his perfect fingers. For a moment, there was only his ragged breathing and the ringing in my ears.
Then he started to laugh.
"Beautiful... so beautiful..." he gurgled through the wreckage of his jaw, his once-perfect features now a jigsaw puzzle of gore and ceramic shards. His free hand fumbled at his belt, producing a small device I recognized from Bison's labs. "But beauty... can be transferred."
"No—!" I lunged forward, but too late. He pressed the trigger.
The world exploded in white light and static. I felt myself falling, spinning, my consciousness ripping away from my body like silk tearing. When I could see again, I was looking up at the ceiling from the floor, my perspective completely wrong. Vega's hands—my hands now—rose into view. Long-fingered and pale. I touched my face and felt bandages, surgical tape, the swollen flesh beneath.
Across from me, Vega—now wearing my body—stood staring down at itself with wide, hungry eyes. He immediately grabbed the neckline of my qipao top and tore it open, exposing the breasts I'd known my whole life as if seeing them for the first time. "Exquisite," he breathed in my voice, a sound so wrong it made my stomach turn. He cupped them, his fingers—my fingers once—squeezing the weight of them with obscene fascination.
"Three days later."
The words felt surreal to even think. Three days of surgery, of recovery, of Vega preening and parading in my skin while I lay in his bed, trapped in his broken body. I shifted against silk sheets that smelled of roses and blood, trying to find a position that didn't send agony lancing through Vega's four fractured ribs—my fractured ribs now.
The bedroom door opened. Vega entered—not the Vega I'd fought, but the Vega who now wore my face and form. He'd styled my hair into his signature braid, the dark ropes hanging over one shoulder. My breasts—his breasts now—were completely exposed, moving with a bounce and weight I intimately understood but had never witnessed from this angle. His nipples, my nipples once, were hard on my former breasts and already healed into them was a matching version of Vega's serpent tattoo, coiling around his left breast.
He wore the ceremonial trousers of a matador in murrey and yellow, so tight they might have been painted on. Every curve of what had been my hips, my ass, my thighs—his now—was outlined in devastating detail. The white leggings hugged his calves, the red sash cinched his waist, and the loafers clicked softly on the marble floor. There was no shirt, no vest, no modesty whatsoever.
"How are we feeling today, my beautiful monster?" he purred in my voice, running his hands down his bare torso, fingers tracing the new tattoo. "I've been breaking in your body. The flexibility is... inspiring."
I pushed myself up on Vega's arms—my arms now—so much stronger than my own had been, but currently useless thanks to the ribs. I wore the masculine version of my Street Fighter Alpha outfit: an embroidered vest that strained across his broad shoulders, a navy unitard that did nothing to hide the evidence of my new anatomy, athletic shoes, and studded wristbands. My face was still wrapped in bandages, Napoleon's guise hiding the damage I'd inflicted.
"You're a psychopath," I rasped, his voice grating in my throat.
"I'm an artist," he corrected, striking a pose that made his—my breasts once—lift and press together. "And I've finally achieved my masterpiece. The face I was always meant to have, the body I've coveted for years. But..." He frowned, touching his bandaged visage on my body. "I still need to fix this. Your brutality marred perfection."
Despite everything, despite the pain and violation, I felt a strange heat pooling in my new groin as I watched him touch what had been my face. My old body was undeniably beautiful, even under his control. And his body... I flexed Vega's powerful thighs—my thighs now—felt the weight of different muscles, the tightness of the unitard against an erection I hadn't asked for.
His eyes—my eyes once—caught the movement. "Ah, I see my husband is adjusting. Good." He began to pace, each step deliberate, making my former hips sway. "I've been thinking, my love. About our arrangement. You gave me this gift, this perfect vessel. And I realized something." He stopped at the foot of the bed, hands on what had been my hips. "I'm in love. With you. With the fighter who broke me, who made this possible."
My breath caught. "You're insane."
"Perhaps." He smiled with my lips, then reached down and began to touch himself through the impossibly tight matador trousers. "But watch how your former body responds to the truth." One hand squeezed his breast—the weight of it filling his palm perfectly—while the other rubbed slow circles between his legs. "I've been touching myself constantly, wife. Learning every secret you kept hidden. Did you know you could get this wet?"
He turned, presenting the profile of my former body, and I watched in horrified fascination as his fingers worked faster. The trousers were so tight I could see the outline of his hand, the way the fabric pulled and strained. He was getting wet—I could smell it, that familiar scent from a foreign source, and the dark patch spreading across the murrey fabric.
"Vega, stop—" I protested, but my new voice was weak.
"Why? This is as much yours as mine now." He approached the bed, leaning over my new crotch, my former breasts—his breasts now—swaying. "Let me show you what I've learned as your wife."
His hands moved to my unitard, and before I could protest, he tore the reinforced fabric between my legs with shocking ease. Vega's cock sprang free, already hard and throbbing. I gasped at the sensation—so different, so urgent.
"Beautiful," he whispered, taking it in my former hands. "Just like the rest of your husband."
Then he leaned forward and pressed my erection between his breasts—the breasts I'd once soaped in the shower, the breasts that had fit into specific sports bras, the breasts that were now his to wield as mother to my fatherhood. The sensation was overwhelming. He squeezed them together, creating a channel of soft, yielding flesh, and began to move.
"Watch," he commanded in my voice, looking down at me with my own dark eyes—his eyes now. "Watch what you made of your wife."
He worked faster, the gold rings in his nipples glinting, his braid swinging with each motion. The pleasure built in this unfamiliar body, coiling tighter and tighter. When he lowered his mouth to the tip and took me—Vega—between my own lips—his lips now—I couldn't hold back.
The orgasm ripped through me, a different kind of explosion than any kick or punch. He swallowed, his throat working in a way I'd never felt, then released me with a satisfied smile. Vega's cock—my cock now—still twitched, half-hard and sensitive.
"There," he purred, wiping his mouth with the back of my former hand. "Now we understand each other, husband."
I was panting, each breath sending pain through Vega's ribs—my ribs now. "More," I managed, hips still twitching with aftershocks. "I want..."
"Shhh." He leaned close, my former breasts—his breasts now—pressing against the vest covering his old chest. "Your body is still healing. I had to have extensive reconstructive surgery on your face, you know. These ribs need time." He whispered in my ear, his breath hot against skin that was his but now mine: "We have all the time in the world, my love. When you're whole again, your wife will take you so much further."
He kissed the bandages covering Vega's ruined features—my ruined features now—then rose from the bed, adjusting his trousers with a satisfied smile. My body left the room with his swagger, the door clicking shut behind him.
I collapsed back against the pillows, remembering as Vega removed his breasts from my half-hard penis, the wetness left behind cooling in the air. My mind reeled with the obscene intimacy of what we'd just done. Three days in, and I was already lost, already thinking of this monster in my skin as "my wife." How many more until I didn't want to find my way back?
A reimagining of 'Palette Swap' by Team Lady Valiant & FarhadTG
The final kick landed with a sickening crack. My heel connected squarely with Vega's porcelain mask, shattering it—and the bone beneath—with a sound like splintering china. He went down hard, clutching his ruined face, blood seeping between his perfect fingers. For a moment, there was only his ragged breathing and the ringing in my ears.
Then he started to laugh.
"Beautiful... so beautiful..." he gurgled through the wreckage of his jaw, his once-perfect features now a jigsaw puzzle of gore and ceramic shards. His free hand fumbled at his belt, producing a small device I recognized from Bison's labs. "But beauty... can be transferred."
"No—!" I lunged forward, but too late. He pressed the trigger.
The world exploded in white light and static. I felt myself falling, spinning, my consciousness ripping away from my body like silk tearing. When I could see again, I was looking up at the ceiling from the floor, my perspective completely wrong. Vega's hands—my hands now—rose into view. Long-fingered and pale. I touched my face and felt bandages, surgical tape, the swollen flesh beneath.
Across from me, Vega—now wearing my body—stood staring down at itself with wide, hungry eyes. He immediately grabbed the neckline of my qipao top and tore it open, exposing the breasts I'd known my whole life as if seeing them for the first time. "Exquisite," he breathed in my voice, a sound so wrong it made my stomach turn. He cupped them, his fingers—my fingers once—squeezing the weight of them with obscene fascination.
"Three days later."
The words felt surreal to even think. Three days of surgery, of recovery, of Vega preening and parading in my skin while I lay in his bed, trapped in his broken body. I shifted against silk sheets that smelled of roses and blood, trying to find a position that didn't send agony lancing through Vega's four fractured ribs—my fractured ribs now.
The bedroom door opened. Vega entered—not the Vega I'd fought, but the Vega who now wore my face and form. He'd styled my hair into his signature braid, the dark ropes hanging over one shoulder. My breasts—his breasts now—were completely exposed, moving with a bounce and weight I intimately understood but had never witnessed from this angle. His nipples, my nipples once, were hard on my former breasts and already healed into them was a matching version of Vega's serpent tattoo, coiling around his left breast.
He wore the ceremonial trousers of a matador in murrey and yellow, so tight they might have been painted on. Every curve of what had been my hips, my ass, my thighs—his now—was outlined in devastating detail. The white leggings hugged his calves, the red sash cinched his waist, and the loafers clicked softly on the marble floor. There was no shirt, no vest, no modesty whatsoever.
"How are we feeling today, my beautiful monster?" he purred in my voice, running his hands down his bare torso, fingers tracing the new tattoo. "I've been breaking in your body. The flexibility is... inspiring."
I pushed myself up on Vega's arms—my arms now—so much stronger than my own had been, but currently useless thanks to the ribs. I wore the masculine version of my Street Fighter Alpha outfit: an embroidered vest that strained across his broad shoulders, a navy unitard that did nothing to hide the evidence of my new anatomy, athletic shoes, and studded wristbands. My face was still wrapped in bandages, Napoleon's guise hiding the damage I'd inflicted.
"You're a psychopath," I rasped, his voice grating in my throat.
"I'm an artist," he corrected, striking a pose that made his—my breasts once—lift and press together. "And I've finally achieved my masterpiece. The face I was always meant to have, the body I've coveted for years. But..." He frowned, touching his bandaged visage on my body. "I still need to fix this. Your brutality marred perfection."
Despite everything, despite the pain and violation, I felt a strange heat pooling in my new groin as I watched him touch what had been my face. My old body was undeniably beautiful, even under his control. And his body... I flexed Vega's powerful thighs—my thighs now—felt the weight of different muscles, the tightness of the unitard against an erection I hadn't asked for.
His eyes—my eyes once—caught the movement. "Ah, I see my husband is adjusting. Good." He began to pace, each step deliberate, making my former hips sway. "I've been thinking, my love. About our arrangement. You gave me this gift, this perfect vessel. And I realized something." He stopped at the foot of the bed, hands on what had been my hips. "I'm in love. With you. With the fighter who broke me, who made this possible."
My breath caught. "You're insane."
"Perhaps." He smiled with my lips, then reached down and began to touch himself through the impossibly tight matador trousers. "But watch how your former body responds to the truth." One hand squeezed his breast—the weight of it filling his palm perfectly—while the other rubbed slow circles between his legs. "I've been touching myself constantly, wife. Learning every secret you kept hidden. Did you know you could get this wet?"
He turned, presenting the profile of my former body, and I watched in horrified fascination as his fingers worked faster. The trousers were so tight I could see the outline of his hand, the way the fabric pulled and strained. He was getting wet—I could smell it, that familiar scent from a foreign source, and the dark patch spreading across the murrey fabric.
"Vega, stop—" I protested, but my new voice was weak.
"Why? This is as much yours as mine now." He approached the bed, leaning over my new crotch, my former breasts—his breasts now—swaying. "Let me show you what I've learned as your wife."
His hands moved to my unitard, and before I could protest, he tore the reinforced fabric between my legs with shocking ease. Vega's cock sprang free, already hard and throbbing. I gasped at the sensation—so different, so urgent.
"Beautiful," he whispered, taking it in my former hands. "Just like the rest of your husband."
Then he leaned forward and pressed my erection between his breasts—the breasts I'd once soaped in the shower, the breasts that had fit into specific sports bras, the breasts that were now his to wield as mother to my fatherhood. The sensation was overwhelming. He squeezed them together, creating a channel of soft, yielding flesh, and began to move.
"Watch," he commanded in my voice, looking down at me with my own dark eyes—his eyes now. "Watch what you made of your wife."
He worked faster, the gold rings in his nipples glinting, his braid swinging with each motion. The pleasure built in this unfamiliar body, coiling tighter and tighter. When he lowered his mouth to the tip and took me—Vega—between my own lips—his lips now—I couldn't hold back.
The orgasm ripped through me, a different kind of explosion than any kick or punch. He swallowed, his throat working in a way I'd never felt, then released me with a satisfied smile. Vega's cock—my cock now—still twitched, half-hard and sensitive.
"There," he purred, wiping his mouth with the back of my former hand. "Now we understand each other, husband."
I was panting, each breath sending pain through Vega's ribs—my ribs now. "More," I managed, hips still twitching with aftershocks. "I want..."
"Shhh." He leaned close, my former breasts—his breasts now—pressing against the vest covering his old chest. "Your body is still healing. I had to have extensive reconstructive surgery on your face, you know. These ribs need time." He whispered in my ear, his breath hot against skin that was his but now mine: "We have all the time in the world, my love. When you're whole again, your wife will take you so much further."
He kissed the bandages covering Vega's ruined features—my ruined features now—then rose from the bed, adjusting his trousers with a satisfied smile. My body left the room with his swagger, the door clicking shut behind him.
I collapsed back against the pillows, remembering as Vega removed his breasts from my half-hard penis, the wetness left behind cooling in the air. My mind reeled with the obscene intimacy of what we'd just done. Three days in, and I was already lost, already thinking of this monster in my skin as "my wife." How many more until I didn't want to find my way back?
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Short story about a man who moves to Miami and has his life body stolen by a maintenance man when they accidentally swap bodies after a head collision.
The humid Miami air clung to my skin as I adjusted to my new life in the city. My one-bedroom apartment was small but cozy, with a view of palm trees swaying outside my window. At 25, I was young, single, and—according to my friends—lucky enough to turn heads. But none of that mattered when I locked eyes with her at a café near Little Havana.
May.
Her name tasted like honey on my tongue. A stunning Cuban woman with curves that defied gravity, dark eyes that smoldered, and a smile that could melt steel. The moment I saw her, I knew I had to ask her out. And when she said yes, my heart nearly exploded.
There was just one problem: my Spanish was nonexistent.
The night before our date, I was pacing my apartment, rehearsing the few phrases I’d Googled—“Hola, guapa. ¿Quieres bailar?”—when the ceiling fan sputtered and died.
Great.
I called maintenance, and within an hour, a gruff, heavyset Mexican man named Ernesto showed up at my door. He smelled like cheap cigarettes and resentment, his white tank top straining over his gut as he grumbled about his wife under his breath.
“Fan’s broken,” he muttered, climbing the ladder with the grace of a man who’d rather be anywhere else.
I nodded, distracted, when my phone buzzed.
A text from May.
A picture.
My breath hitched. She’d sent a selfie in the dress she was wearing tomorrow—tight, red, and sinful. My fingers hovered over the screen, my pulse racing, when—
CRASH.
Ernesto lost his balance. The ladder wobbled. His arms flailed.
And then—impact.
Our skulls collided with a sickening crack, and everything went black.
---
I woke up disoriented.
The room was different. The clothes were different. And—wait—why was the calendar three weeks ahead?
Before I could process it, the bedroom door swung open.
May.
She stood there in a sundress so short it was practically a suggestion, her hips swaying as she sauntered toward me. A slow, knowing smirk curled her lips as she purred something in Spanish—words I didn’t understand but felt deep in my gut.
My confusion must’ve been obvious because she laughed, a rich, throaty sound, before dropping to her knees.
And then—
Oh. My. God.
The best. Blowjob. Of my life.
When she finally pulled away, licking her lips, she whispered in perfect English, “Tomorrow, we go meet my parents, okay?” Then she winked and strutted out, leaving me dazed, confused, and very satisfied.
But the moment she left, the door swung open again.
Ernesto.
His eyes locked onto mine, and his face drained of color.
“No… no, no, no,” he gasped before bolting like a man possessed.
May poked her head back in. “Who was that?”
I shrugged, my mind racing.
But I needed answers.
---
I tracked Ernesto down at his shitty apartment complex, cornering him in the dimly lit hallway.
“What the hell is going on?” I demanded.
He looked like a man who’d seen a ghost. “You weren’t supposed to wake up,” he whispered.
“Wake up?!”He swallowed hard. “When we hit heads… I woke up in your body. My body was just… empty. Like a shell.” His voice dropped. “I saw the text from May. The date. I—I went. I speak Spanish. She loved it. We… we’ve been together since.”
My stomach twisted. “You’ve been what?”
“Fucking her,” he admitted, shame and excitement warring in his eyes. “I’d swap back and forth—your body, mine—so I could escape my wife and still be with her. But now you’re here, and I don’t know how to fix it.”
I stared at him, my blood boiling.
This bastard had been living my life.
Touching my woman.
And now?
Now I had a choice to make.
The air between Ernesto and me crackled with tension. My hands clenched into fists at my sides, my mind racing with the implications of what he’d just confessed.
He’d been inside my body.
He’d touched May.
He’d lived my life.
A surge of possessive fury burned through me, but beneath it, something else flickered—curiosity.
“So,” I said slowly, stepping closer, “you’re telling me that when we hit heads, you swapped into my body? And you’ve been… switching back and forth?”
Ernesto nodded, wiping sweat from his brow. “Sí. Your body—it’s like a car. I get in, I drive, then I go back to mine when I’m done.”
I scoffed. “And my body just… waits for you?”
“Exactamente.” He shrugged. “When I’m not in it, it’s just… empty. Like a puppet with no strings.”
My jaw tightened. The idea of my body being used—violated—without my consent made my skin crawl. But then, another thought slithered into my mind.
What if I could do the same?
I crossed my arms. “Show me.”
Ernesto blinked. “¿Qué?”
“Show me how it works,” I demanded. “If you can jump into my body, then I should be able to jump into yours.”
His face paled. “No, no, hombre—it’s not that simple—”
“Bullshit.” I grabbed his wrist, my grip iron-tight. “You stole my life. The least you can do is teach me how to do the same.”
For a long moment, Ernesto just stared at me, his dark eyes flickering with fear… and something else. Resignation.
Finally, he sighed. “Fine. But you’re not gonna like it.”
---
Back in my apartment, Ernesto paced nervously. “It only works when we’re close,” he muttered. “And it hurts.”
I rolled my eyes. “Just tell me what to do.”
He hesitated, then pointed at the couch. “Sit. And… brace yourself.”
I sat, my heart pounding. Ernesto stood in front of me, his thick fingers flexing like he was preparing for a fight.
Then—
He slammed his forehead into mine.
CRACK.
White-hot pain exploded behind my eyes. My vision swam, the room tilting violently—
And then…
Darkness.
---
I woke up with a gasp—but something was wrong.
My hands were thicker, rougher. My gut heavy.
I looked down.
White tank top. Jeans. A gold chain around my neck.
Ernesto’s body.
“Holy shit,” I breathed—but the voice that came out was his. Deep, accented.
Across from me, my body stirred.
Ernesto—now in me—groaned, rubbing his (my?) forehead. Then he looked up, and our eyes met.
A slow, wicked grin spread across my face.
“See?” he said, flexing my fingers. “Now you know.”
Disgust twisted in my gut—but so did something else. Power.
If he could do it…
So could I.
I stood, testing the weight of Ernesto’s body. It was strange—like wearing a suit two sizes too big. But the strength was undeniable.
And then—
The door opened.
May.
Her eyes lit up when she saw me—or rather, my body—sitting there.
“Hola, papi,” she purred, strutting over to him like I wasn’t even there.
My blood boiled.
She leaned down, pressing a kiss to my lips—his lips—her fingers tangling in my hair.
And I was just… standing there.
Invisible.
Forgotten.
A growl ripped from my throat.
May pulled back, frowning at me. “Ernesto? What’s wrong with you?”
Wrong?
Everything was wrong.
But now…
Now I knew how to fix it.
I lunged.
May screamed as I tackled my own body to the ground, our skulls colliding with another sickening CRACK—
And the world went black again.
---
When I opened my eyes, I was back.
My hands. My body.
And May beneath me, her lips swollen from kissing me—the real me.
Her eyes widened. “James?”
The moment May stepped out of the apartment, the air between Ernesto and me grew thick with tension. I ran a hand through my hair—my hair again—and exhaled sharply.
"Alright," I said, turning to Ernesto, who was still rubbing his temple from the last headbutt. "We need to talk."
He scowled but didn't argue.
"I need you to do something for me," I said, keeping my voice low. "Tonight—May wants me to meet her parents. But I can't speak Spanish, and I don’t want to embarrass her."
Ernesto’s eyebrows shot up. "¿En serio? You want me to go?"
I nodded. "Just for the dinner. You go as me, charm them, then we swap back after."
A slow, knowing smirk curled his lips. "And what do I get out of it?"
My jaw tightened. "You get to keep using my body whenever you want—within reason. But there’s one condition."
He waited.
"You don’t sleep with May."
Ernesto barked a laugh. "Cabrón, you think I can resist that?" He gestured toward the door where May had just left.
I grabbed his collar, shoving him against the wall. "Yes. Because if you don’t, I swear to God, I’ll make sure your wife finds out exactly where you’ve been disappearing to."
His smirk faltered.
After a tense silence, he finally relented. "Está bien. Fine. No sex. Just dinner."
I released him, smoothing out his wrinkled shirt. "Good. Now get ready. You’ve got a date."
---
The swap was easier this time—just a quick, brutal knock of our foreheads, and suddenly, I was staring at myself again.
Ernesto—now in my body—adjusted my shirt, flashing me a cocky grin.
Ernesto—now wearing my body—with a low, dangerous growl.
“Listen carefully,” I hissed, jabbing a finger into my own chest. “You will be on your best behavior tonight. You will charm her parents. And you will not touch her after.”Ernesto smirked, running my hands down my torso in a way that made my skin crawl. “Relax, güey. I got this.”
“This isn’t a joke,” I snapped. “You think this is some kind of game? You ruin this for me—”
“And what?” He laughed. “You’ll tell her the truth? ‘Oh hey, May, by the way, your novio is really a baldy maintenance man in a stolen body!’” His voice dripped with mocking. “Face it, hermano. You need me.”
I wanted to strangle him. Instead, I took a deep breath.
“One date,” I said through gritted teeth. “Then we swap back. No funny business.”
Ernesto rolled my eyes but nodded. “Sí, sí. No funny business.”---
From the window of my apartment, I watched them leave. May looped her arm through mine, laughing at something he said—something in perfect Spanish, no doubt. The way she looked at him—no, at me—sent a vicious pang of jealousy through my gut.
That should’ve been me walking her to the car.
That smile should’ve been for me.
I clenched the windowsill until my knuckles turned white.
Just get through tonight, I told myself. Then you get your life back.
---
Three hours later, the sound of the front door opening jolted me from my pacing.
“We’re back!” May’s musical voice called.
I rushed into the living room—and froze.
May was pressed against my body—Ernesto—her hips grinding into him as his hands roamed shamelessly over her curves. Her lips were kiss-swollen, her dark eyes hooded with lust.
“Ay, papi,” she purred, biting his—my—ear. “Take me to bed.”
Ernesto smirked—smirked—right at me over her shoulder.
You promised, I mouthed, fury burning in my chest.
His grin widened. Then he hoisted May over his shoulder like a prize, her giggles bouncing off the walls as they disappeared into the bedroom.
A second later, the first moan cut through the air.
Hers.
Then his.
I stood there, shaking.
Traitor. Liar.
I could’ve barged in. I could’ve screamed.
But what would I say?
That’s not me in there!
She’d think I was insane.
So I did the only thing I could.
I sat on the couch.
And I listened.
Every gasp. Every groan. Every filthy, throaty cry May made for him—for my body.
It should’ve been me.
My fists clenched.
The bedroom door clicked shut behind them, but the sounds—those goddamn sounds—continued to seep through the thin walls. May's breathy moans. The creak of the bedframe. Ernesto's gruff voice, my voice, whispering things in Spanish I couldn't understand but knew were filthy.
I gripped the armrest of the couch, my nails digging into the fabric. Every muscle in my body was tense, coiled like a spring ready to snap.
I wanted to kick down the door. I wanted to scream. But all I could do was sit there—trapped in Ernesto’s body, stuck on the sidelines of my own fucking life.
A particularly loud cry from May sent a jolt of white-hot anger through me. That was supposed to be mine.
I couldn’t take it anymore.
I stormed out onto the balcony, gulping the humid Miami air like it could cleanse my rage. The city lights blurred in front of me, my thoughts spinning.
How the hell was I going to fix this?
→ I could try to force another swap—but Ernesto was in my body now. Stronger. Younger. If I charged in there and we fought... May would see. She'd think I was attacking her.
→ I could wait. Let him finish. Maybe he'd keep his word and swap back after. Yeah, right.
→ Or… I could take matters into my own hands. Permanently.
The balcony railing groaned as I leaned against it. Below, the pool shimmered under ultraviolet lights. A dark fantasy flickered in my mind—Ernesto, my body, slipping on wet tiles. Hitting his head. Another accident.
Before I could follow that thought further, the bedroom door creaked open.
I turned.
May stood there in the doorway, draped in nothing but one of my old T-shirts—just long enough to tease the bare skin of her thighs. Her hair was a mess. Her lips were red and swollen.
She looked satisfied.
My stomach turned.
"Ernesto?" Her brow furrowed. "What are you doing out here?"
Ernesto. The name was a punch to the gut.
"Just... needed some air," I muttered, hating the gravel in his voice.
May bit her lip, glancing back toward the bedroom. "James is, uh... resting." A blush crept up her neck, and I knew exactly what kind of 'rest' he was getting.
I swallowed hard. "You two had a good night?"
She smiled—that smile. The one I'd been dreaming about since the day we met. "The best. His parents loved him. And then..." She trailed off, eyes glazing over with memory. My chest ached.
Before she could say more, my voice called from inside.
"Mi vidaaaaa, where'd you go?"
May grinned. "Gotta go." She turned, then hesitated. "Hey... you okay? You seem... off."
I forced a laugh. "Just tired."
She nodded and disappeared back inside, the door clicking shut behind her.
A second later, laughter spilled out. His.
That was it.
I wasn't playing this game anymore.
I grabbed my phone and scrolled through my contacts until I found her number—Ernesto's wife.
One ring. Two.
"¿Hola?"
I took a deep breath.
"Señora Rodriguez? You might want to come to my apartment. Your husband is here... and you won't believe what he's been doing with my body."
I hung up before she could reply.
Back inside, the sounds of passion had started up again.
But not for long.
The knock at the door came less than twenty minutes later - hard and impatient. I'd know that knock anywhere.
Marisol Rodriguez.
I rubbed my hands together (Ernesto's thick, calloused hands) and hurried to answer. The moment I opened the door, I was nearly knocked backward by the force of Marisol's fury.
"¿DÓNDE ESTÁ?" she demanded, dark eyes blazing. She was a beautiful woman - all dangerous curves and fire - but right now, she looked ready to kill.
I stepped aside. "Master bedroom."
She stormed past me in a whirlwind of floral perfume and righteous anger, platform sandals slapping against the tile. I followed closely behind, my heart pounding with equal parts guilt and anticipation.
The moans grew louder as we approached.
Marisol froze outside my bedroom door, her face twisting in fury. Without hesitation, she swung the door open with a violent crash.
The sight that greeted us was exactly what I expected. May on her back, legs wrapped around my body, sheets tangled around their waists. They froze mid-thrust, identical looks of horror dawning on their faces.
"MARISOL?!" Ernesto's voice cracked.
May scrambled backwards, clutching the sheets to her chest. "James? What the hell? Who is-?"
Marisol didn't say a word. She just smiled - slow and venomous. Then she reached into her designer purse and pulled out a glass bottle of holy water.
Ernesto's eyes went wide. "No, mujer, wait-"
She uncorked it with her teeth and flung the contents straight at his face.
The effect was instantaneous. Ernesto - in my body - screamed as the water hit his skin and began sizzling. His arms flailed as his back arched unnaturally, my body spasming against the mattress.
May screamed, falling off the bed in her scramble to escape. "WHAT'S HAPPENING?!"
Marisol crossed herself. "Demonio. I knew it wasn't really my husband."
Smoke began rising from my body's pores as Ernesto thrashed, his screams taking on an unnatural, echoing quality.
And then - with one final, guttural wail - he separated.
A translucent, ghostly version of Ernesto was ejected from my body, hovering mid-air before collapsing into a shimmering puddle on the floor that slowly dissolved into nothing.
My body slumped onto the bed, unmoving.
Complete silence.
Then May scrambled to her feet, naked and terrified, grabbing for her clothes. "What the FUCK was that?!"
Marisol calmly recorked her now-empty bottle. "El Diablo takes many forms, mija." She turned to me - still in Ernesto's body - and tilted her head. "Now. About you..."
I held up my hands. "Marisol, I promise, I'm-"
She reached into her purse again.
I dove for my motionless body on the bed just as she flung another spray of holy water.
CRACK.
Pain exploded through my skull as my forehead connected with my body's.
Darkness.
Then - the feeling of fitting again.
I gasped, sitting bolt upright in my body - my real body. Down on the floor, Ernesto groaned, back in his own form.
Marisol grabbed her husband by the ear and yanked him upright. "We're leaving. Now."
As she dragged a groggy Ernesto toward the door, she turned back to me and May with a smirk. "You're welcome."
The door slammed shut behind them.
Silence again.
May slowly turned to me, clutching her dress to her chest. "James... what the actual fuck just happened?"
I opened my mouth. Closed it.
Somehow "my maintenance man possessed my body to date you because he was in a bad marriage and now we might both be cursed" didn't seem like the right answer.
So I went with:
"...Miami is weird?"
She stared at me for a long moment.
Then smacked me hard across the face.
"You're goddamn right," she muttered, stalking toward the bathroom. "And you're never sleeping with me again."
The bathroom door slammed.
Alone again.
I rubbed my stinging cheek and sighed.
Worth it.
→ Epilogue →
Three Months Later
The apartment AC hummed as I adjusted my tie in the mirror. First day at my new job - no more staring at Ernesto's ugly mug in the maintenance hallways.
A knock at the door.
I checked the peephole.
And nearly swallowed my tongue.
May stood there in a tight pink dress, arms crossed, looking pissed.
I opened the door slowly. "Uh. Hey?"
She glared. "You owe me dinner."
"...I do?"
"Correct." She shoved a stack of papers into my chest. Every single one was a Spanish workbook. "And you're going to learn real Spanish. Not whatever that pendejo was speaking."
I blinked. Then grinned so wide my cheeks hurt.
"Si, mi amor."
She rolled her eyes. "Dios mío. That's not even the right context." But she was smiling as she pushed past me into the apartment.
Life was good.
And Miami?
Miami was still very weird.
The humid Miami air clung to my skin as I adjusted to my new life in the city. My one-bedroom apartment was small but cozy, with a view of palm trees swaying outside my window. At 25, I was young, single, and—according to my friends—lucky enough to turn heads. But none of that mattered when I locked eyes with her at a café near Little Havana.
May.
Her name tasted like honey on my tongue. A stunning Cuban woman with curves that defied gravity, dark eyes that smoldered, and a smile that could melt steel. The moment I saw her, I knew I had to ask her out. And when she said yes, my heart nearly exploded.
There was just one problem: my Spanish was nonexistent.
The night before our date, I was pacing my apartment, rehearsing the few phrases I’d Googled—“Hola, guapa. ¿Quieres bailar?”—when the ceiling fan sputtered and died.
Great.
I called maintenance, and within an hour, a gruff, heavyset Mexican man named Ernesto showed up at my door. He smelled like cheap cigarettes and resentment, his white tank top straining over his gut as he grumbled about his wife under his breath.
“Fan’s broken,” he muttered, climbing the ladder with the grace of a man who’d rather be anywhere else.
I nodded, distracted, when my phone buzzed.
A text from May.
A picture.
My breath hitched. She’d sent a selfie in the dress she was wearing tomorrow—tight, red, and sinful. My fingers hovered over the screen, my pulse racing, when—
CRASH.
Ernesto lost his balance. The ladder wobbled. His arms flailed.
And then—impact.
Our skulls collided with a sickening crack, and everything went black.
---
I woke up disoriented.
The room was different. The clothes were different. And—wait—why was the calendar three weeks ahead?
Before I could process it, the bedroom door swung open.
May.
She stood there in a sundress so short it was practically a suggestion, her hips swaying as she sauntered toward me. A slow, knowing smirk curled her lips as she purred something in Spanish—words I didn’t understand but felt deep in my gut.
My confusion must’ve been obvious because she laughed, a rich, throaty sound, before dropping to her knees.
And then—
Oh. My. God.
The best. Blowjob. Of my life.
When she finally pulled away, licking her lips, she whispered in perfect English, “Tomorrow, we go meet my parents, okay?” Then she winked and strutted out, leaving me dazed, confused, and very satisfied.
But the moment she left, the door swung open again.
Ernesto.
His eyes locked onto mine, and his face drained of color.
“No… no, no, no,” he gasped before bolting like a man possessed.
May poked her head back in. “Who was that?”
I shrugged, my mind racing.
But I needed answers.
---
I tracked Ernesto down at his shitty apartment complex, cornering him in the dimly lit hallway.
“What the hell is going on?” I demanded.
He looked like a man who’d seen a ghost. “You weren’t supposed to wake up,” he whispered.
“Wake up?!”He swallowed hard. “When we hit heads… I woke up in your body. My body was just… empty. Like a shell.” His voice dropped. “I saw the text from May. The date. I—I went. I speak Spanish. She loved it. We… we’ve been together since.”
My stomach twisted. “You’ve been what?”
“Fucking her,” he admitted, shame and excitement warring in his eyes. “I’d swap back and forth—your body, mine—so I could escape my wife and still be with her. But now you’re here, and I don’t know how to fix it.”
I stared at him, my blood boiling.
This bastard had been living my life.
Touching my woman.
And now?
Now I had a choice to make.
The air between Ernesto and me crackled with tension. My hands clenched into fists at my sides, my mind racing with the implications of what he’d just confessed.
He’d been inside my body.
He’d touched May.
He’d lived my life.
A surge of possessive fury burned through me, but beneath it, something else flickered—curiosity.
“So,” I said slowly, stepping closer, “you’re telling me that when we hit heads, you swapped into my body? And you’ve been… switching back and forth?”
Ernesto nodded, wiping sweat from his brow. “Sí. Your body—it’s like a car. I get in, I drive, then I go back to mine when I’m done.”
I scoffed. “And my body just… waits for you?”
“Exactamente.” He shrugged. “When I’m not in it, it’s just… empty. Like a puppet with no strings.”
My jaw tightened. The idea of my body being used—violated—without my consent made my skin crawl. But then, another thought slithered into my mind.
What if I could do the same?
I crossed my arms. “Show me.”
Ernesto blinked. “¿Qué?”
“Show me how it works,” I demanded. “If you can jump into my body, then I should be able to jump into yours.”
His face paled. “No, no, hombre—it’s not that simple—”
“Bullshit.” I grabbed his wrist, my grip iron-tight. “You stole my life. The least you can do is teach me how to do the same.”
For a long moment, Ernesto just stared at me, his dark eyes flickering with fear… and something else. Resignation.
Finally, he sighed. “Fine. But you’re not gonna like it.”
---
Back in my apartment, Ernesto paced nervously. “It only works when we’re close,” he muttered. “And it hurts.”
I rolled my eyes. “Just tell me what to do.”
He hesitated, then pointed at the couch. “Sit. And… brace yourself.”
I sat, my heart pounding. Ernesto stood in front of me, his thick fingers flexing like he was preparing for a fight.
Then—
He slammed his forehead into mine.
CRACK.
White-hot pain exploded behind my eyes. My vision swam, the room tilting violently—
And then…
Darkness.
---
I woke up with a gasp—but something was wrong.
My hands were thicker, rougher. My gut heavy.
I looked down.
White tank top. Jeans. A gold chain around my neck.
Ernesto’s body.
“Holy shit,” I breathed—but the voice that came out was his. Deep, accented.
Across from me, my body stirred.
Ernesto—now in me—groaned, rubbing his (my?) forehead. Then he looked up, and our eyes met.
A slow, wicked grin spread across my face.
“See?” he said, flexing my fingers. “Now you know.”
Disgust twisted in my gut—but so did something else. Power.
If he could do it…
So could I.
I stood, testing the weight of Ernesto’s body. It was strange—like wearing a suit two sizes too big. But the strength was undeniable.
And then—
The door opened.
May.
Her eyes lit up when she saw me—or rather, my body—sitting there.
“Hola, papi,” she purred, strutting over to him like I wasn’t even there.
My blood boiled.
She leaned down, pressing a kiss to my lips—his lips—her fingers tangling in my hair.
And I was just… standing there.
Invisible.
Forgotten.
A growl ripped from my throat.
May pulled back, frowning at me. “Ernesto? What’s wrong with you?”
Wrong?
Everything was wrong.
But now…
Now I knew how to fix it.
I lunged.
May screamed as I tackled my own body to the ground, our skulls colliding with another sickening CRACK—
And the world went black again.
---
When I opened my eyes, I was back.
My hands. My body.
And May beneath me, her lips swollen from kissing me—the real me.
Her eyes widened. “James?”
The moment May stepped out of the apartment, the air between Ernesto and me grew thick with tension. I ran a hand through my hair—my hair again—and exhaled sharply.
"Alright," I said, turning to Ernesto, who was still rubbing his temple from the last headbutt. "We need to talk."
He scowled but didn't argue.
"I need you to do something for me," I said, keeping my voice low. "Tonight—May wants me to meet her parents. But I can't speak Spanish, and I don’t want to embarrass her."
Ernesto’s eyebrows shot up. "¿En serio? You want me to go?"
I nodded. "Just for the dinner. You go as me, charm them, then we swap back after."
A slow, knowing smirk curled his lips. "And what do I get out of it?"
My jaw tightened. "You get to keep using my body whenever you want—within reason. But there’s one condition."
He waited.
"You don’t sleep with May."
Ernesto barked a laugh. "Cabrón, you think I can resist that?" He gestured toward the door where May had just left.
I grabbed his collar, shoving him against the wall. "Yes. Because if you don’t, I swear to God, I’ll make sure your wife finds out exactly where you’ve been disappearing to."
His smirk faltered.
After a tense silence, he finally relented. "Está bien. Fine. No sex. Just dinner."
I released him, smoothing out his wrinkled shirt. "Good. Now get ready. You’ve got a date."
---
The swap was easier this time—just a quick, brutal knock of our foreheads, and suddenly, I was staring at myself again.
Ernesto—now in my body—adjusted my shirt, flashing me a cocky grin.
Ernesto—now wearing my body—with a low, dangerous growl.
“Listen carefully,” I hissed, jabbing a finger into my own chest. “You will be on your best behavior tonight. You will charm her parents. And you will not touch her after.”Ernesto smirked, running my hands down my torso in a way that made my skin crawl. “Relax, güey. I got this.”
“This isn’t a joke,” I snapped. “You think this is some kind of game? You ruin this for me—”
“And what?” He laughed. “You’ll tell her the truth? ‘Oh hey, May, by the way, your novio is really a baldy maintenance man in a stolen body!’” His voice dripped with mocking. “Face it, hermano. You need me.”
I wanted to strangle him. Instead, I took a deep breath.
“One date,” I said through gritted teeth. “Then we swap back. No funny business.”
Ernesto rolled my eyes but nodded. “Sí, sí. No funny business.”---
From the window of my apartment, I watched them leave. May looped her arm through mine, laughing at something he said—something in perfect Spanish, no doubt. The way she looked at him—no, at me—sent a vicious pang of jealousy through my gut.
That should’ve been me walking her to the car.
That smile should’ve been for me.
I clenched the windowsill until my knuckles turned white.
Just get through tonight, I told myself. Then you get your life back.
---
Three hours later, the sound of the front door opening jolted me from my pacing.
“We’re back!” May’s musical voice called.
I rushed into the living room—and froze.
May was pressed against my body—Ernesto—her hips grinding into him as his hands roamed shamelessly over her curves. Her lips were kiss-swollen, her dark eyes hooded with lust.
“Ay, papi,” she purred, biting his—my—ear. “Take me to bed.”
Ernesto smirked—smirked—right at me over her shoulder.
You promised, I mouthed, fury burning in my chest.
His grin widened. Then he hoisted May over his shoulder like a prize, her giggles bouncing off the walls as they disappeared into the bedroom.
A second later, the first moan cut through the air.
Hers.
Then his.
I stood there, shaking.
Traitor. Liar.
I could’ve barged in. I could’ve screamed.
But what would I say?
That’s not me in there!
She’d think I was insane.
So I did the only thing I could.
I sat on the couch.
And I listened.
Every gasp. Every groan. Every filthy, throaty cry May made for him—for my body.
It should’ve been me.
My fists clenched.
The bedroom door clicked shut behind them, but the sounds—those goddamn sounds—continued to seep through the thin walls. May's breathy moans. The creak of the bedframe. Ernesto's gruff voice, my voice, whispering things in Spanish I couldn't understand but knew were filthy.
I gripped the armrest of the couch, my nails digging into the fabric. Every muscle in my body was tense, coiled like a spring ready to snap.
I wanted to kick down the door. I wanted to scream. But all I could do was sit there—trapped in Ernesto’s body, stuck on the sidelines of my own fucking life.
A particularly loud cry from May sent a jolt of white-hot anger through me. That was supposed to be mine.
I couldn’t take it anymore.
I stormed out onto the balcony, gulping the humid Miami air like it could cleanse my rage. The city lights blurred in front of me, my thoughts spinning.
How the hell was I going to fix this?
→ I could try to force another swap—but Ernesto was in my body now. Stronger. Younger. If I charged in there and we fought... May would see. She'd think I was attacking her.
→ I could wait. Let him finish. Maybe he'd keep his word and swap back after. Yeah, right.
→ Or… I could take matters into my own hands. Permanently.
The balcony railing groaned as I leaned against it. Below, the pool shimmered under ultraviolet lights. A dark fantasy flickered in my mind—Ernesto, my body, slipping on wet tiles. Hitting his head. Another accident.
Before I could follow that thought further, the bedroom door creaked open.
I turned.
May stood there in the doorway, draped in nothing but one of my old T-shirts—just long enough to tease the bare skin of her thighs. Her hair was a mess. Her lips were red and swollen.
She looked satisfied.
My stomach turned.
"Ernesto?" Her brow furrowed. "What are you doing out here?"
Ernesto. The name was a punch to the gut.
"Just... needed some air," I muttered, hating the gravel in his voice.
May bit her lip, glancing back toward the bedroom. "James is, uh... resting." A blush crept up her neck, and I knew exactly what kind of 'rest' he was getting.
I swallowed hard. "You two had a good night?"
She smiled—that smile. The one I'd been dreaming about since the day we met. "The best. His parents loved him. And then..." She trailed off, eyes glazing over with memory. My chest ached.
Before she could say more, my voice called from inside.
"Mi vidaaaaa, where'd you go?"
May grinned. "Gotta go." She turned, then hesitated. "Hey... you okay? You seem... off."
I forced a laugh. "Just tired."
She nodded and disappeared back inside, the door clicking shut behind her.
A second later, laughter spilled out. His.
That was it.
I wasn't playing this game anymore.
I grabbed my phone and scrolled through my contacts until I found her number—Ernesto's wife.
One ring. Two.
"¿Hola?"
I took a deep breath.
"Señora Rodriguez? You might want to come to my apartment. Your husband is here... and you won't believe what he's been doing with my body."
I hung up before she could reply.
Back inside, the sounds of passion had started up again.
But not for long.
The knock at the door came less than twenty minutes later - hard and impatient. I'd know that knock anywhere.
Marisol Rodriguez.
I rubbed my hands together (Ernesto's thick, calloused hands) and hurried to answer. The moment I opened the door, I was nearly knocked backward by the force of Marisol's fury.
"¿DÓNDE ESTÁ?" she demanded, dark eyes blazing. She was a beautiful woman - all dangerous curves and fire - but right now, she looked ready to kill.
I stepped aside. "Master bedroom."
She stormed past me in a whirlwind of floral perfume and righteous anger, platform sandals slapping against the tile. I followed closely behind, my heart pounding with equal parts guilt and anticipation.
The moans grew louder as we approached.
Marisol froze outside my bedroom door, her face twisting in fury. Without hesitation, she swung the door open with a violent crash.
The sight that greeted us was exactly what I expected. May on her back, legs wrapped around my body, sheets tangled around their waists. They froze mid-thrust, identical looks of horror dawning on their faces.
"MARISOL?!" Ernesto's voice cracked.
May scrambled backwards, clutching the sheets to her chest. "James? What the hell? Who is-?"
Marisol didn't say a word. She just smiled - slow and venomous. Then she reached into her designer purse and pulled out a glass bottle of holy water.
Ernesto's eyes went wide. "No, mujer, wait-"
She uncorked it with her teeth and flung the contents straight at his face.
The effect was instantaneous. Ernesto - in my body - screamed as the water hit his skin and began sizzling. His arms flailed as his back arched unnaturally, my body spasming against the mattress.
May screamed, falling off the bed in her scramble to escape. "WHAT'S HAPPENING?!"
Marisol crossed herself. "Demonio. I knew it wasn't really my husband."
Smoke began rising from my body's pores as Ernesto thrashed, his screams taking on an unnatural, echoing quality.
And then - with one final, guttural wail - he separated.
A translucent, ghostly version of Ernesto was ejected from my body, hovering mid-air before collapsing into a shimmering puddle on the floor that slowly dissolved into nothing.
My body slumped onto the bed, unmoving.
Complete silence.
Then May scrambled to her feet, naked and terrified, grabbing for her clothes. "What the FUCK was that?!"
Marisol calmly recorked her now-empty bottle. "El Diablo takes many forms, mija." She turned to me - still in Ernesto's body - and tilted her head. "Now. About you..."
I held up my hands. "Marisol, I promise, I'm-"
She reached into her purse again.
I dove for my motionless body on the bed just as she flung another spray of holy water.
CRACK.
Pain exploded through my skull as my forehead connected with my body's.
Darkness.
Then - the feeling of fitting again.
I gasped, sitting bolt upright in my body - my real body. Down on the floor, Ernesto groaned, back in his own form.
Marisol grabbed her husband by the ear and yanked him upright. "We're leaving. Now."
As she dragged a groggy Ernesto toward the door, she turned back to me and May with a smirk. "You're welcome."
The door slammed shut behind them.
Silence again.
May slowly turned to me, clutching her dress to her chest. "James... what the actual fuck just happened?"
I opened my mouth. Closed it.
Somehow "my maintenance man possessed my body to date you because he was in a bad marriage and now we might both be cursed" didn't seem like the right answer.
So I went with:
"...Miami is weird?"
She stared at me for a long moment.
Then smacked me hard across the face.
"You're goddamn right," she muttered, stalking toward the bathroom. "And you're never sleeping with me again."
The bathroom door slammed.
Alone again.
I rubbed my stinging cheek and sighed.
Worth it.
→ Epilogue →
Three Months Later
The apartment AC hummed as I adjusted my tie in the mirror. First day at my new job - no more staring at Ernesto's ugly mug in the maintenance hallways.
A knock at the door.
I checked the peephole.
And nearly swallowed my tongue.
May stood there in a tight pink dress, arms crossed, looking pissed.
I opened the door slowly. "Uh. Hey?"
She glared. "You owe me dinner."
"...I do?"
"Correct." She shoved a stack of papers into my chest. Every single one was a Spanish workbook. "And you're going to learn real Spanish. Not whatever that pendejo was speaking."
I blinked. Then grinned so wide my cheeks hurt.
"Si, mi amor."
She rolled her eyes. "Dios mío. That's not even the right context." But she was smiling as she pushed past me into the apartment.
Life was good.
And Miami?
Miami was still very weird.
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A man joins a yoga studio and its not exactly what he was expecting...
The moving truck groaned as it rolled down the gravel driveway of Jon’s new home—a small rental house on the edge of Laredo, Texas. The air was thick with humidity, clinging to his skin even as the sun dipped low in the sky. He wiped his forehead and glanced around. Quiet. Empty. Just him, his gym bag, and a whole lot of loneliness.
"Perfect," he muttered under his breath.
The first week was brutal. Work was fine—some IT gig at a local firm—but the silence at home was deafening. So, naturally, Jon did what any single guy with no social life would do: he practically lived at the gym.
Iron Haven was the kind of place where beefed-up ranchers and college athletes clashed over bench press real estate, but Jon didn’t care. The grind kept him sane.
And then, on day five, he saw her.
She was mid-rep on the squat rack, legs flexed, her dark ponytail swaying with each controlled descent. Half-Filipina, half-Latina, and all trouble for his concentration. When she stood up, racking the bar with effortless strength, she caught him staring. Instead of scowling, she grinned.
"Could use a spot," she called over.
Jon blinked. "Uh. Yeah. Sure."
Her name was Mariah. Twenty-four, worked as a physical therapist, and had a laugh that hit like a shot of whiskey—smooth and dangerous. She teased him about his form, he joked about her terrible taste in gym music (seriously, reggaeton mixed with 90s hip-hop?), and just like that, they were friends.
Mariah was the kind of girl who made Jon forget how to breathe. Not because she was flawless—though the way her leggings hugged those curves didn’t hurt—but because she was real. Quick to poke fun, quicker to check in if she sensed something was off.
"Helloooo? Earth to Jon." She waved a hand in front of his face during cooldown stretches.
"Sorry," he chuckled, shaking his head. "Zoned out."
"Bullshit," she grinned. "You were staring at my ass."
Jon’s face burned. "I was not—"
"—Don’t lie, I saw you." She stretched her arms overhead, flashing a sliver of toned stomach. "It’s cool. I get it. My glutes are legendary."
Jon groaned, but damn if she wasn’t right.
Weeks slipped by. They spotted each other, grabbed post-workout smoothies, and even binged bad action movies sprawled on her couch. Every time she leaned in to steal a fry or playfully shoved him, his pulse spiked. But then she’d mention him.
"Jackson’s flying in next weekend."
Jackson. The long-distance boyfriend. Seattle-based finance guy. Polite, handsome, and—according to Mariah—"super understanding."
Which meant Jon was screwed.
One night, post-deadlifts, Mariah twisted the cap off her water bottle and sighed. "You ever feel like life’s got this weird way of dangling what you want just outta reach?"
Jon swallowed. "Yeah."
She glanced at him, eyes searching. "Jon…"
The air between them thickened. His chest ached.
Then her phone buzzed. She checked it, and just like that, the moment shattered.
"Jackson," she said softly, smiling at the screen.
Jon forced a grin. "Better answer it."
She did. And Jon swallowed his feelings like chalky protein powder—gritty, tasteless, and necessary.
But Texas heat has a way of making fools out of careful men. And Jon was starting to wonder how long he could keep pretending. The weights felt heavier that day.
Not physically—his deadlifts were the same as always—but mentally, his focus was shot. He’d spent the previous night scrolling through Mariah’s Instagram, stalking Jackson’s perfect teeth and vacation pics in Seattle, feeling like an idiot. His grip slipped on the third rep.
Then—pop.
A white-hot bolt of pain ripped through Jon’s lower back. His vision blurred. The barbell hit the floor with a thunderous crash, and suddenly, he was on his knees, gasping.
"Jon?!"
Mariah was at his side in seconds, hands on his shoulders before he could even blink away the sweat burning his eyes. Her touch sent a different kind of electric current through him—not pain, just warmth.
"I’m fine," he lied through clenched teeth.
She gave him that don’t-bullshit-me look—the one that made men stronger than him crumble. "You’re not fine. You just folded like a lawn chair."
The doctor’s verdict later that evening was grim: herniated disc. No lifting. No heavy exertion. For at least three months.
"Try yoga," the doc suggested, scribbling on his clipboard.
Yoga.
Jon wanted to scream.
Day 4 of No Gym
Jon lasted four days before he caved.
The second he walked into Iron Haven, he spotted her—mid-conversation with some beefy guy in a tank top, laughing at something he said. His gut twisted.
Then she saw him. Her smile vanished.
"Jon." She marched over, arms crossed. "What are you doing here?"
"Just... needed to move." He shrugged, trying to play it off. "Light stuff. Maybe just the bike or—"
"No." She poked his chest. "Doctor’s orders. You leave. Now."
The guy she’d been talking to raised an eyebrow.
Embarrassment burned Jon’s neck. "Mariah, c’mon—"
"—I’ll drive you home." She snatched his gym bag off his shoulder.
Jon groaned. "You’re relentless."
"And you’re an idiot if you think I’m letting you wreck yourself."
That should’ve been sweet. But all it did was remind Jon that she cared—just not the way he wanted her to.
Week 3: The Slow Decline
No gym meant no Mariah.
Sure, she texted. Sent dumb memes. Even dropped by once with soup, which was so disgustingly thoughtful it made Jon’s chest hurt. But without the routine of spotting each other, their interactions dwindled.
Meanwhile, Jackson was in town.
Her Instagram was a barrage of them—brunch, some hipster brewery, his arm slung around her waist in that I-own-this-space way guys like him had.
Jon should’ve stopped looking.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he lay on his couch, ice pack on his back, binge-watching terrible TV and wondering if Mariah ever thought about him when she wasn’t obligated to.
Pathetic. Three months.
Three goddamn months.
Jon stood outside the only yoga studio in Laredo—"Sunrise Yoga & Wellness"—staring at the lavender-scented hellscape beyond the glass door. Inside, a handful of women in stretchy outfits moved in slow, graceful unison. This was a mistake.
His fingers twitched at his sides. His back still ached, despite the epidural shot last week. And his doctor’s smug "told you so" echoed in his skull.
"Try yoga, Jon."
Bullshit.
The studio door chimed as Jon pushed it open.
Instantly, every head turned.
A woman near the front—mid-50s, sipping from a stainless-steel water bottle—gave him a slow once-over. Jon stood there awkwardly, feeling like a linebacker who’d wandered into a ballet rehearsal.
"First time?" a voice chirped.
A petite blonde instructor bounced over, her neon yoga pants practically glowing under the studio lights.
"Yeah," Jon muttered, rubbing his neck. "My doctor said—"
"—Ahhh, the doctor recommended crowd." She grinned. "I get it. You’re skeptical. You think yoga’s just stretching and incense. But trust me—" She poked his bicep. "—you’ll be humiliated by how hard this is."
Great fucking pep talk.
"I'm Marisa, by the way! Class starts in five!" she announced to the room before leaving Jon to grab a mat.
Jon shuffled toward the back corner—least visibility possible—and tried to just hide and observe.
The scent of lavender and jasmine settled over the studio like a warm, cloying blanket. Jon stood frozen at the edge of the room, gripping his rented yoga mat like it might sprout legs and run for the door.
The class was packed—mostly women. Not just any women. Beautiful ones. Laughing, stretching, their toned limbs effortlessly folding into pretzel-like shapes that made his lower back ache in sympathy. At the center of it all was an older woman—maybe late fifties—with silver-streaked dark hair and an easy confidence. She held court among a circle of girls wrapped in expensive athleisure, all giggling at something she said with the familiarity of people who had known each other for years.
Then, in the far corner, her.
A lone figure sitting cross-legged on her mat, deep brown hair spilling over one shoulder. She was younger than the others—early twenties, maybe. Her eyes darted nervously around the room before settling on the ground in front of her. She had that fresh-faced, untouched beauty—soft lips, faint freckles dusting her cheeks—but her posture screamed stay away.
Jon hesitated for half a second before shuffling over and dropping his mat beside hers.
"Hey," he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck. "First time?"
She flinched—actually flinched—as if she hadn’t expected anyone to acknowledge her. Then she nodded, barely lifting her chin.
"Yeah. You?"
"My doctor forced me into this," he admitted with a lopsided grin. "Said I had to 'embrace the healing process' or some shit."
A flicker of a smile. So tiny he almost missed it.
"Me too," she said. "Car accident. My physical therapist recommended it."
"Jon." He held out a hand.
She blinked at it, then placed her hand in his—delicate fingers, cold to the touch.
"Elena," she whispered.
For a second, it felt nice. Just two lost people in a room full of strangers, clinging to the briefest moment of connection.
Then Elena pulled her hand back too quickly, her gaze darting past him. Her expression flattened, her walls slamming up again.
Jon frowned. "Uh—"
"Class is starting," she muttered, turning her body away from him.
And just like that—dismissed.
Confused, he glanced around the room and froze.
The older woman was staring. And so were the others. All of them. Unmistakably. Eyes locked onto Elena with unsettling intensity.
Jon’s skin prickled.
The teacher clapped her hands. "Alright, everyone! Let’s begin!"
But no one moved.
For one bizarre, suspended moment, the air in the room felt wrong.
Then Elena exhaled sharply.
And the older woman smiled.
As they began, it dawned on Jon that he was terrible at yoga.
Like, tragically bad.
Downward Dog? More like Collapsed Mutt. Warrior Pose? More like "Wobbling Toddler." Every time he attempted to mirror the instructor’s graceful movements, his body protested with crackling joints and awkward tremors.
At one point, he caught sight of Elena—effortlessly balanced in a perfect Tree Pose, her slender arms lifted toward the ceiling—and nearly toppled over in distraction. That’s when he noticed the odd little detail: a paper wristband looped around her wrist, stark white with faint black lettering.
Even stranger? The only other people wearing them: the older silver-haired woman and Marisa, the instructor.
Jon waited until they transitioned into Child’s Pose (which, mercifully, mostly involved kneeling and not moving) before leaning toward Elena.
"Hey," he whispered. "Where’d you get the wristband?"
Elena blinked at him, then at her own wrist. "I don't know," she murmured, voice barely audible. "They just gave it to me after I checked in. Did you get one?"
Before Jon could answer—
"Shhhh."
Marisa shot them a pointed look from the front of the room. Elena immediately folded in on herself again, and Jon bit back a frustrated sigh. So much for conversation.
--
Then came meditation.
Lights dimmed, soft music hummed through the speakers, and Jon lay flat on his back, surrendering to the plush mat beneath him. The room sank into silence.
Around him, the others drifted effortlessly into serenity—breaths slow, bodies slack. Even Jon, despite himself, began to relax.
Then—
A scent.
Sweet, floral, intoxicating. Not overpowering—just… there. Like someone had spritzed the air with perfume, subtle but all-encompassing. Jon inhaled deeply, and suddenly, his limbs felt lighter. His thoughts mellowed. A slow, warm buzz settled over him, as if he’d sipped a shot of something strong.
What the hell…?
Then—commotion.
A hushed rustling, a sharp inhale followed by an audible "No."
Jon cracked open an eye.
The older woman sat bolt upright, fists clenched in her lap. Her face was twisted—not in pain, but in... frustration? Anger?
Marisa swooped in instantly, murmuring something soothing before gently guiding her out of the room. The woman didn’t resist, but as the door shut behind them, the air in the studio shifted.
Jon exhaled. Probably nothing.
He closed his eyes again.
And promptly dozed off.
--
When he stirred, the lights were up, and the music had faded. Around him, people stretched, sighed, smiled—blissed-out expressions plastered on every face.
Including Elena’s.
Except now, Elena wasn’t avoiding eye contact.
She wasn’t shy.She was beaming.
Jon barely had time to process before she bounced up to him, rolling up her mat with effortless fluidity.
"Hey," she chirped, "what was your name again?"
"Uh—Jon?"
She laughed—bright, loud. "Right! Sorry!" Then she stuck out her hand. "I’m Elena."
But the way she said it was… off. Over-enunciated. "I’M EL-EEEE-NA." As if she was announcing it to the room.
And then—she winked.
Jon stared.
Five minutes ago, this girl wouldn’t look at him. Now she was grinning, tossing her hair, radiating energy like she’d chugged three espressos.
"Nice to officially meet you," she said—flirty, playful—before sashaying toward the door. "See you next week!"
Then she was gone.
Jon stood frozen, mat half-rolled, brain working overtime.
--
The parking lot was empty, save for one figure.
The older woman slumped on a bench near the exit, face in her hands. Silent sobs wracked her shoulders.
Jon hesitated.
Then he climbed into his car.
And drove away.
---
A week passed before Jon mustered the willpower to return to Sunrise Yoga & Wellness.
This time, the door gave a cheerful ding as he walked in, and Marisa—grinning from ear to ear—welcomed him like an old friend.
"Jon! You actually came back!" she teased, clasping her hands together. "I was sure we scared you off for good."
He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, well, doc’s orders."
"Uh-huh, sure." She winked. "Whatever gets you here, handsome."
Jon felt his face warm. The attention was nice—too nice—and for a second, he almost forgot why he’d been weirded out last time.
Then he saw her.
Elena.
She wasn’t hiding in the corner this time. She was thriving.
Surrounded by that same circle of beautiful women, she laughed loudly at some unheard joke, tossing her dark hair over her shoulder. She looked different. Confident. Radiant. Entirely at home.
And then—her eyes flicked up.
She saw him.
A slow, knowing smile curved her lips before she excused herself and sauntered toward him.
"Jon," she purred, stopping just a little too close, one hand resting lightly on his bicep. "You made it."
He stiffened—partly from surprise, partly because she was touching him like they’d known each other for years.
"Uh, yeah," he managed. "How’s… uh…?" He swallowed. "How’s the physical therapy going?"
A flicker of confusion passed over her face.
Then—just like that—it smoothed into recognition.
"Right! The accident." She laughed, brushing it off. "It’s going great. Thanks for asking."
Jon frowned. Last week, she’d acted like stepping out of her shell was impossible. Now she was making him the nervous one?
Before he could press, another woman walked in—young, gorgeous, glancing around the room with the cautious energy of a first-timer.
Elena immediately lit up.
"Ooooh, fresh meat," she whispered playfully—then shot Jon an apologetic smirk. "Duty calls. Catch you later?"
And just like that, she glided toward the newcomer, all sunshine and charm.
Jon watched as Elena greeted the woman—a hand on her arm, a warm laugh, a little tilt of her head that said you’re safe here.
Then… she slid a white wristband onto the woman’s wrist.
Jon stiffened.
The same exact kind he’d never been given.
He scanned the room.
Only three people had them.
—The new girl.
—Marisa.
—And some unfamiliar older lady, chatting animatedly with the same group of young, polished women as last time.
What the hell is going on?
Jon rolled out his mat, his skin prickling with unease as Elena’s laughter—bright, confident, uncharacteristic—filled the room.
Something was wrong.
And he was starting to think it wasn’t just his imagination.
The class unfolded like a broken-record replay of last week.
Jon struggled through the poses, his muscles protesting as he tried—and failed—to bend his body into shapes it clearly wasn’t meant to hold. Downward Dog still felt less like yoga and more like an uncoordinated stretch before faceplanting. Elena, meanwhile, had become disturbingly good overnight—her movements fluid, effortless, like she’d been doing this for years.
Which was impossible. She was new. Just like me.
Then came the wristbands.
Jon stole glances whenever he could, watching as the new girl—Emma, was it?—kept touching hers, running her fingers over the black lettering Jon still couldn’t read.
Elena noticed him looking and grinned. "whatcha lookin at hon?" she teased, swaying close during a water break.
"Those wristbands. You said last week they gave you one when you walked in. And then you have that new girl Emma one today. What are they for?" Jon hedged.
"Mmmmm, darling those are just for new people. You don't need one." she giggled, popping her hip. Jon wanted to investigate further so he asked "but I was new last week and I never got one. Why is that?" She looked nervous for about a nano second and then replied with "well you're not new anymore sweetheart! So I wouldn't worry your handsome head about it now." she said winking and then she was off again, leaving him standing there like an idiot.
——
Meditation.
Lights dimmed. Music hummed. The same cloying floral scent from last time curled through the air—thick, honey-sweet, with a weight to it that made Jon’s limbs feel like they were floating.
The high crept in slow, a warm, dizzying sensation that smoothed the edges of his thoughts.
Then—
A rustle. A sharp inhale.
Jon slitted his eyes open just in time to see the older woman—the new one this time—jerk upright, her breath ragged.
"What the fu-," she hissed under her breath. Looking at her hands with confusion and touching her face.
Marisa was on her instantly, murmuring soft words, gently steering her toward the door.
Jon’s pulse kicked.
Just like last week.
He wanted to follow. To ask questions. But his body ignored him, melting further into the mat, the scent wrapping around him like a drug.
His eyes closed.
——
Aftermath.
The lights came up. People stretched, sighed, exchanged soft smiles. Jon blinked back to reality, disoriented, an odd languidness clinging to his limbs.
Beside him, the new girl—Emma—sat up, her expression transformed.
No hesitation. No uncertainty.
She turned to Elena, beaming. "I get what you meant now," she whispered, touching her wristband.
"Told you," Elena smirked back at her new friend.
Jon’s stomach twisted.
Across the room, Marisa stretched her arms overhead, sighing in contentment. "Another amazing session, everyone! See you next week!"
Jon gathered his mat, mind racing.
Same scents. Same meditative shift. Same wristbands.
And now—same people?
He glanced over his shoulder just as Elena caught his eye. She winked, slow, deliberate.
"I think the gals are getting together this weekend for drinks, Jon," she sang. "You should join us, right EMMA?"
Emma was looking down at herself and not paying attention, but then looked back up and looked Jon up and down nodding playfully.
Marisa echoed the invitation for drinks Friday night and Jon politely agreed.
He barely made it to his car before he noticed.
The older woman sat slumped against the wheel of her parked SUV.
Crying.
---
Later that week, Jon found himself harassed and eventually coerced into going out with his new yoga "friends".
The Lone Star Saloon was the kind of small-town bar where the neon sign buzzed, the jukebox played a mix of classic country and top-40 hits no one asked for, and everybody knew everybody—or at least pretended to.
Jon pushed through the scarred wooden door, the chatter of voices and twang of steel guitar hitting him in a wall of sound. He spotted them immediately—the Sunrise Yoga crew clustered around a long table in the back, drinks gleaming under the dim amber lights.
Marisa waved him over, her smile luminous. "Jon! You came!"
He forced a grin, sliding into the booth beside her. "Wouldn’t miss it."
The table was packed—Elena, Emma, the other regulars from class—all polished and glowing like they’d stepped out of some sleek magazine ad for "Small-Town Goddesses." But what caught Jon’s attention were the men—because nearly a third of the girls weren’t alone.
They were with older men.
Much older.
Silver-haired gentlemen in pressed button-downs laughing intimately with girls young enough to be their daughters. One man—late 50s, tan, with the crisp confidence of money—had his hand possessively on the thigh of a yoga regular Jon recognized from class. Another, balding and thick around the middle, leaned in to whisper something that made his dark-haired companion giggle into her cocktail.
Jon frowned, swirling his beer.
A sharp elbow nudged his ribs.
"See something you like?" Marisa murmured, leaning in so close her perfume—something expensive, fruity—tickled his nose.
"Just… surprised," Jon admitted quietly, gesturing subtly toward one of the older couples. "Didn’t realize this was a date night."
Marisa’s laugh was bright, deliberate. "Oh, sweetie, age is just a number. Love doesn’t clock out at forty."
Jon wanted to press—but Elena suddenly appeared at his other side, draping herself halfway over his shoulders. Her touch was warm, her voice whiskey-smooth.
"Don’t worry, Jon," she teased, her breath sweet with gin. "Plenty of us aren’t taken yet."
Emma giggled across the table, twirling her straw. "Speak for yourself."
Elena gasped—mock-offended—and launched into some dramatic retort Jon barely heard.
His attention snagged on the older couple again.
The way the girl—Tiffany?—traced her fingers over her boyfriend’s wrist.
The same white wristband peeked out from under her sleeve.
Just like the others.
Jon’s pulse hitched.
Before he could react, Marisa clinked her glass against his bottle, pulling his focus back.
"To new friends," she toasted, smiling.
Around the table, glasses lifted.
Jon hesitated—then drank.
The beer tasted bitter.
Or maybe that was just the dread creeping up his throat.
The night should’ve been weird.
Elena was trashed—giggling so hard she almost knocked over Emma’s cosmo, her voice sharp and loud in that way drunk people never realize is obnoxious. Emma wasn’t far behind, slurring compliments like "Jon, you’re actually, like, soo funny when you’re not just, like… working out or whatever."
But despite the strangeness hanging over the yoga crew, Jon was surprised to find himself… having fun.
Mostly thanks to Marisa.
She was effortlessly engaging—switching between sarcastic wit and warm wisdom like it was nothing. Every joke landed, every story pulled him in. She teased him about his stiff posture ("Even in a bar booth, you sit like you’re about to deadlift it") but listened intently when he told her about his job, his move to Texas, even his stupid back injury.
At one point, after refilling his beer without him noticing, she smirked and said, "You know, I was worried you’d be the broody, silent type forever. But you’re kinda charming when you’re not scowling."
Jon snorted. "Thanks, I think."
"Oh, it’s a compliment," she laughed, flicking her dark braid over her shoulder. "Most guys in this town peak in high school and never recover."
And yeah—she was older. Easily mid-40s. Not someone he’d look at twice in that way. But damn if she wasn’t the most interesting person in the room.
Then the door swung open.
And all the warmth in Jon’s chest evaporated.
Mariah.
Dressed in jeans that hugged her just right and a soft sweater that made her skin glow under the bar lights. And beside her—Jackson. Broad-shouldered, clean-cut, the kind of guy who looked like he spent more time on his skincare routine than Jon did on meal prep.
Jon’s grip tightened around his bottle.
He shouldn’t care.
But fuck.
Mariah’s eyes swept the room—paused on him—widened slightly. Then she smiled, small but genuine, and lifted her fingers in a little wave.
Jon managed a stiff nod.
Elena, drunk and oblivious, followed his gaze and gasped. "Oh! Omigod, it’s—" She shot up, wobbling. "—Time for shots! Right, Jon? Right?"
Marisa’s gaze flicked between Jon and Mariah, sharp with understanding.
"Well well," she murmured, lips curving. "This night just got interesting."
And Jon—
Jon really wished he wasn’t trapped in this booth.
Marisa leaned in, her eyes glinting with amusement. "Oh? Nobody important?" she echoed, watching as Mariah and her boyfriend wound their way toward them through the crowd.
Jon stiffened. "I mean—we’re just friends."
"Mhmm," Marisa hummed, smirking. "The way you just said that tells me everything."
Before Jon could protest, Mariah was there—smiling warmly, her dark eyes bright.
"Jon! Hey!" she said, reaching out to briefly squeeze his shoulder. Her touch sent a jolt through him. "I didn’t expect to see you here."
Jon forced an easy smile—or what he hoped looked like one. "Yeah, uh. Yoga class outing." He gestured vaguely at the table.
Mariah’s boyfriend, Jackson, extended a hand with perfect polite-guy charm. "Hey man, nice to finally meet you. Maria’s told me a lot about you."
Maria.
Not Mariah.
The nickname grated like nails on a chalkboard.
Jon shook his hand—too tight, probably—and muttered, "All good things, I hope."
Jackson laughed, oblivious. "Of course. Says you spot her on squats."
Mariah rolled her eyes playfully. "Jon’s saved my life multiple times from being squashed by a barbell."
Jon swallowed hard.
She was glowing. Happy. Relaxed. Everything about her body language screamed comfortable with this guy.
It stung.
The small talk lasted another painful minute before Mariah excused them both. "We’re meeting some of Jackson’s coworkers, but it was nice seeing you!" She hesitated, then added, "You should come to the gym next week. I’ve missed my lifting buddy."
Missed.
The word dangled between them like bait.
"Yeah," Jon rasped. "Maybe."
And just like that, she was gone again—Jackson’s hand sliding naturally to the small of her back as they walked away.
Jon exhaled slowly.
Marisa didn’t wait.
"Ohhhh honey," she drawled, swirling her drink. "That was painful to watch."
Jon groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up."
"That wasn’t just nobody important." She nudged him. "Tell me the truth—you’ve got a thing for her, don’t you?"
He debated lying.
But the alcohol loosened his tongue.
"Yeah," he muttered. "And it’s fucking stupid."
Marisa arched a brow, sipping her whiskey. "Why?"
Jon huffed a bitter laugh. "Because she’s with him! Because I wait all week just to spot her on bench press like some lovesick puppy. Because—" He cut himself off, frustrated.
Marisa studied him for a long moment. Then, softly: "She doesn’t look at you the way she looks at him?"
Jon froze.
"It's Bullshit," he said automatically.
But Marisa didn’t push. Just shrugged and leaned back, her expression knowing.
"You know, Jon," she said simply. "You should invite her—to Yoga. You never know...your luck might turn around."
Jon didn’t answer.
Just swallowed the rest of his drink whole.
---
The following Monday, the studio was quieter than usual when Jon stepped in—soft murmurs, hushed laughter, the faint sound of bare feet on mats.
And then he saw her.
Mariah.
Standing near the front of the room in black leggings and a fitted tank, talking animatedly with Marisa.
Jon’s pulse kicked.
What the hell is she doing here?
As if sensing his stare, Mariah turned. Her face lit up, and she gave him a little wave. "Hey! Surprise!"
Jon forced his legs to move forward. "You’re—uh—doing yoga now?"
Before she could answer, Marisa slipped an arm around Mariah’s shoulders, grinning. "I invited her after you left the bar. Everyone needs a little spiritual detox, right?" She winked—definitely not subtle.
Mariah laughed, rolling her eyes. "Yeah, don’t look so nervous. I won’t completely embarrass myself."
Her ease helped. A little. Jon exhaled, rubbing his neck. "Just—don’t expect me to be any help. I still can’t touch my toes."
Mariah smirked. "For a guy who lifts like you do, that’s kinda pathetic."
It was such a Mariah thing to say—playful, teasing, effortlessly slipping back into the rhythm of their gym banter—that Jon’s chest loosened.
But then—
His gaze snagged on her wrist.
A thin white band.
The wristband.
His blood went cold.
He looked around the room, counting.
Marisa had one.
No one else did.
Not Elena. Not Emma. No one but…
Mariah.
Jon’s stomach twisted.
Marisa invited her. Marisa gave her the wristband.
Was this planned?
Before he could think too much about it, the music shifted—soothing chimes, low and melodic.
Marisa clapped her hands. "Alright, lovelies! Let’s begin."
Mariah shot Jon one last grin before unfolding her mat beside him.
Jon unrolled his own, hands just a little unsteady.
He had a very bad feeling about this.
As it happens...Mariah was bad at yoga as well—but in the most endearing way possible.
She was flexible—no shock given how nimble she was with weights—but graceful? Not even close. Every transition was a half-second too slow, her balance tipping like a newborn deer on ice. At one point, halfway through Warrior Three, she wobbled so violently she windmilled her arms and nearly face-planted into Jon’s chest.
He caught her reflexively, grinning. "Maybe ease into it, Rocky."
Mariah clutched his shoulder, laughing breathlessly. "I swear this pose didn’t look this hard from the sidelines."
Jon couldn’t help it—he laughed. Really laughed. For the first time all night, the weird tension evaporated. This was just Mariah: clumsy, determined, utterly herself.
The rest of the class passed smoothly—until meditation.
As usual, the lights dimmed, slow music humming through the speakers. Marisa stretched her arms theatrically. "Alright, everyone, settle in. Deep breaths. I’ll be back in a few."
Jon frowned as she slipped out the door. Strange—she never left during meditation.
But before he could dwell on it, the room sank into silence. Ten minutes passed in a drowsy haze until—
Lights flicked on.
Elena stood at the front, smiling. "Hey guys, Marisa isn’t feeling great. She asked me to finish up. So… namaste, or whatever."
Jon sat up, blinking.
Beside him, Mariah was staring at her hands—turning them over, flexing her fingers. Almost like she was… checking them.
She caught him looking and immediately smirked. "Like what you see?"
Jon flushed. "Just—uh—making sure you didn’t pull anything."
Mariah rolled her eyes. "Relax, tough guy. I’m kidding." But her tone was different—sharper, smoother. Off.
The class dispersed quickly after that. Jon lingered, watching as Mariah gathered her things with uncharacteristic imprecision—dropping her keys, fumbling her water bottle.
Outside, the night air was thick with humidity.
"Walk me to my car?" Mariah asked, tilting her head.
"Yeah. Sure."
They crossed the darkened parking lot in silence. Mariah’s steps were confident now—almost swaggering—where earlier she’d been all stiff concentration.
Then—she stopped at a silver Honda.
Jon hesitated. "...That’s not your car."
Mariah froze.
For half a second, her face went utterly blank. Then she laughed, loud and careless. "Whoops! Wrong rental." She spun and marched three cars down to her actual Toyota.
Jon’s stomach knotted.
Rental? Mariah had owned that car for years.
She tossed her bag inside, flashing him a smirk. "See you at the gym tomorrow?"
"Yeah," Jon lied.
She drove off.
Jon stared after her, pulse humming uneasily.
Same voice. Same face.
But was that Mariah?
---
The next morning, Jon spotted her the second he walked into Iron Haven.
"Mariah".
Perched on the edge of a bench, stretching in sleek black yoga pants and a cropped athletic top—clothes he'd never seen her wear to lift before.
She caught his eye immediately, grinning as she unfolded herself in a fluid, feline motion. "There you are," she said, voice warm and teasing. "I was starting to think you were avoiding me."
Jon frowned. Her cadence was different—smoother, almost calculated. Even the way she stood seemed unnaturally poised, like someone who'd studied confidence rather than lived it.
"...You're in yoga gear," he blurted.
She glanced down, running her hands over her hips as if appreciating the fabric. "Mm. Felt like a change. Cute, right?"
Jon swallowed hard. Every alarm in his head was screaming.
Then came the real red flags.
She couldn't remember their usual push-pull split. She kept asking about muscle groups like the terms were foreign. And when she loaded up the bar for squats—
"Mariah, your knees—they're caving in. Big time," Jon warned, hovering behind her.
She just giggled. "Oops. Guess I need you to really spot me today."
Her wink was deliberate, her hips shifting invitingly as she started her descent with terrifying instability. Jon had to brace both hands on her waist to keep her from wobbling sideways—too close, too intimate.
When they switched to bench press, she abandoned form entirely, arching in a way that was less about power and more about giving him an obstructed view down her tank top.
Jon's face burned.
Then—
"So, big news," she announced between sets, twirling a lock of hair. "Me and Jackson? Done." She popped the p playfully. "Thought you'd be happy to hear that."
Jon froze mid-reach for his water bottle.
"You... broke up?"
"Mhmm." She stretched her arms overhead, watching his reaction like a cat eyeing a trapped mouse. "Long-distance sucked anyway. But now I'm single... lonely... could really use a friend tonight." Her foot nudged his calf. "Maybe you?"
Jon felt like he'd been dunked in ice water.
This wasn't Mariah.
The real Mariah would never ditch form like this. Would never flirt this blatantly. And if—some impossible fantasy—she'd actually broken up with Jackson, she'd be hurting. Drinking sad-girl wine, venting to friends, not propositioning him mid-workout.
Yet here this not-Mariah stood, smirking, waiting.
Jon forced a stiff smile. "Yeah. Maybe."
She beamed, like he'd confirmed some secret she already knew. "Great. Come by my place at 8. Don't bring beer—I've got better drinks."
She sauntered away to the water fountain, her stride too smooth, too practiced.
Jon stared after her.
He had no intention of showing up.
But he was going to figure out what the hell was happening.
---
Jon stood on Mariah’s porch at 8:03 PM, fist raised to knock, heart hammering like he was about to step into a trap.
Because he was.
But he had to know.
The door swung open before his knuckles even touched wood.
Mariah leaned against the frame, bathed in warm lamplight—barefoot, in a silky slip of a dress that clung to every curve. A far cry from her usual gym shorts and oversized tees.
"You came," she purred, stepping aside to let him in.
Jon forced himself to move. "Yeah. Wouldn’t miss it."
The apartment smelled like vanilla and red wine. Candles flickered on the coffee table beside an already half-empty bottle.
Mariah snatched it up, pouring him a glass without asking. "Relax," she laughed, pressing it into his hand. "You look like you’re about to bolt."
Jon took a sip. "Just… surprised, I guess."
"About?" She flopped onto the couch, patting the space beside her.
"This. You. Us hanging out like…" He gestured vaguely at the wine, the dim lighting, her.
Mariah’s smile turned sly. "Like a date?"
Jon choked on his drink.
She just giggled, leaning in to swipe a thumb over the corner of his lips, catching the spilled wine. Then—slow, deliberate—she sucked it off her own finger, watching him.
Jon’s pulse roared in his ears.
This was wrong.
The real Mariah would’ve teased him, sure. Would’ve maybe flirted after one too many drinks. But not like this. Not with this calculated, predatory heat.
Yet here she was, closing the distance between them, her knee brushing his.
"You’ve always been so careful with me," she murmured, fingers tracing idle circles on his thigh. "But you don’t have to be. Not anymore."
Jon’s grip tightened on his glass. "Mariah—"
"Shhh." Her hand slid up to cradle his jaw. "Just kiss me."
And then she did.
Her mouth was warm, insistent—wrong. The way she moved, the taste of her, the pressure—it was like kissing a stranger wearing Mariah’s skin. Little did he know how right he was.
Jon pulled back, breath ragged.
Mariah just smirked, licking her lips. "See? Not so hard."
Mariah didn’t just kiss him—she consumed him.
One second, Jon was reeling from the wrongness of it all—the next, her hands were fisted in his shirt, yanking him forward until his back hit the couch. Her teeth scraped his lower lip, sharp enough to make him groan, and suddenly any semblance of hesitation shattered.
Her tongue swiped against his, tasting of rich red wine and something else—something darkly intoxicating. She climbed onto his lap in one smooth motion, her silky dress riding up as she straddled him.
“You’ve wanted this,” she breathed, grinding down against the painful hardness in his jeans. “For so long.”
Jon’s hands found her hips on instinct, gripping tight as she rocked against him. He should’ve stopped. Should’ve asked what the hell was happening.
But then her mouth was on his neck, nipping, sucking, marking him like she was staking a claim—and logic dissolved.
She pulled back just enough to smirk at the mess she’d made of him.
“Pathetic,” she teased, dragging her nails down his chest. “All this time pretending you didn’t want me.”
Before he could respond, she slid off his lap and onto her knees between his legs.
Her fingers made quick work of his belt, his zipper, his straining boxers. When she freed him, hot and heavy in her grip, she licked her lips—slow, deliberate, savoring the moment.
Then, without warning, she took him deep.
Jon’s back arched off the couch, a ragged gasp tearing from his throat.
Fuck.
Her mouth was perfect—hot, wet, relentless. No hesitation, no teasing buildup. Just ruthless skill. Her tongue swirled around the head, her lips tightened on the upstroke, her nails dug into his thighs when he tried to buck deeper. “Don’t,” she warned, smirking up at him before swallowing him down again.
Jon’s vision blurred.
She was too good. Knew exactly how to hollow her cheeks, when to hum, when to drag her teeth just enough to make him see stars. It wasn’t just the best head of his life—it was like she’d mapped out every desperate fantasy he’d ever had and cranked it to eleven.
When he growled, “I’m close,” she didn’t pull away.
She laughed around him—laughed—and doubled down, taking him to the hilt.
Jon came with a curse, fingers tangled in her hair as she milked him through it, swallowing every drop.
He barely had time to recover before she climbed back into his lap, yanking her dress down over her shoulders in one motion. No bra. Just smooth, golden skin and perfect curves.
Jon crushed her against him, hands roaming, mouth claiming hers again—but she was the one in control.
She pushed him back onto the couch, guiding him inside her with a slow, torturous roll of her hips. He hissed at the slick, blazing heat of her.
Then she moved.
No sweet, tentative rhythm. Just pure, unrelenting dominance. She rode him like she was punishing him for every second he’d spent pining—hard, fast, her nails scoring down his chest as she chased her own pleasure.
“Look at you,” she taunted, grinding down, clenching around him. “Mr. Self-Control.”
Jon didn’t last. Couldn’t. Not with her above him—eyes dark, body arching, her breath coming in sharp, needy gasps.
He flipped her beneath him in one rough motion, driving into her deep enough to wrench a sharp cry from her lips.
“Jon—!”
He didn’t stop. Couldn’t.
Their coupling turned savage—skin slapping, teeth clashing, her thighs trembling around his waist as she clawed at his back. When she came, it was with a scream, her body locking around him like a vice.
Jon followed, burying himself inside her with a groan.
For a long moment, the only sounds were their ragged breaths.
Then she laughed.
Low. Triumphant.
Jon tensed.
Because that laugh—
It didn’t belong to Mariah.
Jon froze as Mariah's laugh - too deep, too smug, too knowing - echoed through the bedroom. That wasn't Mariah's giggle. That wasn't Mariah's playful tone.
He recognized it only a nanosecond later...That was Marisa.
"Enjoy yourself, big boy?" the woman in Mariah's body purred, stretching like a satisfied cat as she rolled away from him. When she turned back, there was something terrifyingly wrong about the way she moved - the familiar curves now inhabited by something alien. "I knew you'd be fun."
Jon sat up sharply, the post-coital haze evaporating. "What the fuck are you?"
Mariah's lips - no, not Mariah's lips - curved into a smile Jon had only ever seen on one person before.
"Smart boy," Marisa chuckled from Mariah's mouth, running Mariah's hands down Mariah's body in a way that made Jon's stomach lurch. "I was wondering when you'd notice."
Jon scrambled off the bed, grabbing for his pants. "Where's Mariah? What did you do to her?"
Marisa sighed dramatically, rolling Mariah's eyes - but the gesture was all wrong, like watching a bad actor play a part. "God, fine. Since you're so clever..." She sat up, tossing Mariah's hair. "I suppose you've earned the whole sordid story."
She spread Mariah's hands like she was giving a presentation.
"Astral projection. Soul transference. A little aromatherapy magic in the yoga studio. Basically..." She smirked. "I help older women trade up. Give some lonely grandma a chance to be young and beautiful again by hopping into a fresh new body. All it takes is a willing participant on each side - well, 'willing' in the loosest sense."
Jon's blood went cold as he remembered the wristbands. The older woman crying in the parking lot. The way Elena had changed so suddenly.
"You give them the bands," he breathed.
"Bingo." Marisa clapped Mariah's hands. "The wristband marks the donors. The incense during meditation loosens their soul's grip on their body just enough for me to... help them let go." She smiled. "Most of them don't even realize what's happening until it's too late."
Jon felt sick. "And the older women? You just... convince them to give up their bodies?"
Marisa shrugged. "They want to. At first they're confused, sure. But then they look in the mirror and realize what they've gained. A tight little body, smooth skin, all the time in the world..." She ran Mariah's hands over Mariah's breasts. "Would you give that up?"
Jon's stomach churned. This was worse than any nightmare his mind could come up with.
Jon felt dizzy, the room spinning as the horrific truth sank in. The yoga studio wasn't just a business - it was a hunting ground. And Mariah had walked right into the trap.
"I knew you had a thing for her," Marisa cooed, crawling toward him on the bed with Mariah's body. "So when I saw my chance to finally upgrade from my 46-year-old vessel... well, who better than your beautiful gym crush?" She laughed - that same rich, throaty laugh Jon now realized had never belonged to Mariah at all.
Jon backed away, his hands shaking as he fumbled for his phone. "I'm calling the cops. This stops now."
Marisa rolled Mariah's eyes. "And say what? That your crush's body got possessed by a yoga instructor?" She smirked. "They'll lock you in the psych ward before you finish speaking."
Panic clawed at Jon's throat. She was right. No one would believe this. But he couldn't just walk away - not while the real Mariah was...
"Where is she?" Jon demanded. "Where's Mariah's soul right now?"
Marisa stretched luxuriously. "Oh, she's fine. Currently occupying my old body locked in a dark room back at the studio and tied to a chair with a gag in her mouth so nobody has to hear her scream. A little trade we made during meditation today." Her smile turned cruel. "Though I did warn her - if she tries telling anyone, no one will believe the crazy old lady claiming to be a 24-year-old."
Jon's mind raced. The crying woman in the parking lot. The way Mariah had stumbled getting into the wrong car. The pieces fell into place with horrible clarity.
"So all of then are actually old women...," he realized. "Elena, Emma, now Mariah...all those girls."
"Very good!" Marisa applauded. "Honestly, Mariah put up more fight than most. But they all give in eventually." She sauntered closer. "Now, you've got two choices. Either accept this sexy new version of your gym buddy..." She trailed Mariah's fingers down his chest. "Or go charging off to 'save the day' and look like a goddamn fool."
Jon's fists clenched. He knew Marisa was right about one thing - no cop would ever believe his story. He was out of options.
The moving truck groaned as it rolled down the gravel driveway of Jon’s new home—a small rental house on the edge of Laredo, Texas. The air was thick with humidity, clinging to his skin even as the sun dipped low in the sky. He wiped his forehead and glanced around. Quiet. Empty. Just him, his gym bag, and a whole lot of loneliness.
"Perfect," he muttered under his breath.
The first week was brutal. Work was fine—some IT gig at a local firm—but the silence at home was deafening. So, naturally, Jon did what any single guy with no social life would do: he practically lived at the gym.
Iron Haven was the kind of place where beefed-up ranchers and college athletes clashed over bench press real estate, but Jon didn’t care. The grind kept him sane.
And then, on day five, he saw her.
She was mid-rep on the squat rack, legs flexed, her dark ponytail swaying with each controlled descent. Half-Filipina, half-Latina, and all trouble for his concentration. When she stood up, racking the bar with effortless strength, she caught him staring. Instead of scowling, she grinned.
"Could use a spot," she called over.
Jon blinked. "Uh. Yeah. Sure."
Her name was Mariah. Twenty-four, worked as a physical therapist, and had a laugh that hit like a shot of whiskey—smooth and dangerous. She teased him about his form, he joked about her terrible taste in gym music (seriously, reggaeton mixed with 90s hip-hop?), and just like that, they were friends.
Mariah was the kind of girl who made Jon forget how to breathe. Not because she was flawless—though the way her leggings hugged those curves didn’t hurt—but because she was real. Quick to poke fun, quicker to check in if she sensed something was off.
"Helloooo? Earth to Jon." She waved a hand in front of his face during cooldown stretches.
"Sorry," he chuckled, shaking his head. "Zoned out."
"Bullshit," she grinned. "You were staring at my ass."
Jon’s face burned. "I was not—"
"—Don’t lie, I saw you." She stretched her arms overhead, flashing a sliver of toned stomach. "It’s cool. I get it. My glutes are legendary."
Jon groaned, but damn if she wasn’t right.
Weeks slipped by. They spotted each other, grabbed post-workout smoothies, and even binged bad action movies sprawled on her couch. Every time she leaned in to steal a fry or playfully shoved him, his pulse spiked. But then she’d mention him.
"Jackson’s flying in next weekend."
Jackson. The long-distance boyfriend. Seattle-based finance guy. Polite, handsome, and—according to Mariah—"super understanding."
Which meant Jon was screwed.
One night, post-deadlifts, Mariah twisted the cap off her water bottle and sighed. "You ever feel like life’s got this weird way of dangling what you want just outta reach?"
Jon swallowed. "Yeah."
She glanced at him, eyes searching. "Jon…"
The air between them thickened. His chest ached.
Then her phone buzzed. She checked it, and just like that, the moment shattered.
"Jackson," she said softly, smiling at the screen.
Jon forced a grin. "Better answer it."
She did. And Jon swallowed his feelings like chalky protein powder—gritty, tasteless, and necessary.
But Texas heat has a way of making fools out of careful men. And Jon was starting to wonder how long he could keep pretending. The weights felt heavier that day.
Not physically—his deadlifts were the same as always—but mentally, his focus was shot. He’d spent the previous night scrolling through Mariah’s Instagram, stalking Jackson’s perfect teeth and vacation pics in Seattle, feeling like an idiot. His grip slipped on the third rep.
Then—pop.
A white-hot bolt of pain ripped through Jon’s lower back. His vision blurred. The barbell hit the floor with a thunderous crash, and suddenly, he was on his knees, gasping.
"Jon?!"
Mariah was at his side in seconds, hands on his shoulders before he could even blink away the sweat burning his eyes. Her touch sent a different kind of electric current through him—not pain, just warmth.
"I’m fine," he lied through clenched teeth.
She gave him that don’t-bullshit-me look—the one that made men stronger than him crumble. "You’re not fine. You just folded like a lawn chair."
The doctor’s verdict later that evening was grim: herniated disc. No lifting. No heavy exertion. For at least three months.
"Try yoga," the doc suggested, scribbling on his clipboard.
Yoga.
Jon wanted to scream.
Day 4 of No Gym
Jon lasted four days before he caved.
The second he walked into Iron Haven, he spotted her—mid-conversation with some beefy guy in a tank top, laughing at something he said. His gut twisted.
Then she saw him. Her smile vanished.
"Jon." She marched over, arms crossed. "What are you doing here?"
"Just... needed to move." He shrugged, trying to play it off. "Light stuff. Maybe just the bike or—"
"No." She poked his chest. "Doctor’s orders. You leave. Now."
The guy she’d been talking to raised an eyebrow.
Embarrassment burned Jon’s neck. "Mariah, c’mon—"
"—I’ll drive you home." She snatched his gym bag off his shoulder.
Jon groaned. "You’re relentless."
"And you’re an idiot if you think I’m letting you wreck yourself."
That should’ve been sweet. But all it did was remind Jon that she cared—just not the way he wanted her to.
Week 3: The Slow Decline
No gym meant no Mariah.
Sure, she texted. Sent dumb memes. Even dropped by once with soup, which was so disgustingly thoughtful it made Jon’s chest hurt. But without the routine of spotting each other, their interactions dwindled.
Meanwhile, Jackson was in town.
Her Instagram was a barrage of them—brunch, some hipster brewery, his arm slung around her waist in that I-own-this-space way guys like him had.
Jon should’ve stopped looking.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he lay on his couch, ice pack on his back, binge-watching terrible TV and wondering if Mariah ever thought about him when she wasn’t obligated to.
Pathetic. Three months.
Three goddamn months.
Jon stood outside the only yoga studio in Laredo—"Sunrise Yoga & Wellness"—staring at the lavender-scented hellscape beyond the glass door. Inside, a handful of women in stretchy outfits moved in slow, graceful unison. This was a mistake.
His fingers twitched at his sides. His back still ached, despite the epidural shot last week. And his doctor’s smug "told you so" echoed in his skull.
"Try yoga, Jon."
Bullshit.
The studio door chimed as Jon pushed it open.
Instantly, every head turned.
A woman near the front—mid-50s, sipping from a stainless-steel water bottle—gave him a slow once-over. Jon stood there awkwardly, feeling like a linebacker who’d wandered into a ballet rehearsal.
"First time?" a voice chirped.
A petite blonde instructor bounced over, her neon yoga pants practically glowing under the studio lights.
"Yeah," Jon muttered, rubbing his neck. "My doctor said—"
"—Ahhh, the doctor recommended crowd." She grinned. "I get it. You’re skeptical. You think yoga’s just stretching and incense. But trust me—" She poked his bicep. "—you’ll be humiliated by how hard this is."
Great fucking pep talk.
"I'm Marisa, by the way! Class starts in five!" she announced to the room before leaving Jon to grab a mat.
Jon shuffled toward the back corner—least visibility possible—and tried to just hide and observe.
The scent of lavender and jasmine settled over the studio like a warm, cloying blanket. Jon stood frozen at the edge of the room, gripping his rented yoga mat like it might sprout legs and run for the door.
The class was packed—mostly women. Not just any women. Beautiful ones. Laughing, stretching, their toned limbs effortlessly folding into pretzel-like shapes that made his lower back ache in sympathy. At the center of it all was an older woman—maybe late fifties—with silver-streaked dark hair and an easy confidence. She held court among a circle of girls wrapped in expensive athleisure, all giggling at something she said with the familiarity of people who had known each other for years.
Then, in the far corner, her.
A lone figure sitting cross-legged on her mat, deep brown hair spilling over one shoulder. She was younger than the others—early twenties, maybe. Her eyes darted nervously around the room before settling on the ground in front of her. She had that fresh-faced, untouched beauty—soft lips, faint freckles dusting her cheeks—but her posture screamed stay away.
Jon hesitated for half a second before shuffling over and dropping his mat beside hers.
"Hey," he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck. "First time?"
She flinched—actually flinched—as if she hadn’t expected anyone to acknowledge her. Then she nodded, barely lifting her chin.
"Yeah. You?"
"My doctor forced me into this," he admitted with a lopsided grin. "Said I had to 'embrace the healing process' or some shit."
A flicker of a smile. So tiny he almost missed it.
"Me too," she said. "Car accident. My physical therapist recommended it."
"Jon." He held out a hand.
She blinked at it, then placed her hand in his—delicate fingers, cold to the touch.
"Elena," she whispered.
For a second, it felt nice. Just two lost people in a room full of strangers, clinging to the briefest moment of connection.
Then Elena pulled her hand back too quickly, her gaze darting past him. Her expression flattened, her walls slamming up again.
Jon frowned. "Uh—"
"Class is starting," she muttered, turning her body away from him.
And just like that—dismissed.
Confused, he glanced around the room and froze.
The older woman was staring. And so were the others. All of them. Unmistakably. Eyes locked onto Elena with unsettling intensity.
Jon’s skin prickled.
The teacher clapped her hands. "Alright, everyone! Let’s begin!"
But no one moved.
For one bizarre, suspended moment, the air in the room felt wrong.
Then Elena exhaled sharply.
And the older woman smiled.
As they began, it dawned on Jon that he was terrible at yoga.
Like, tragically bad.
Downward Dog? More like Collapsed Mutt. Warrior Pose? More like "Wobbling Toddler." Every time he attempted to mirror the instructor’s graceful movements, his body protested with crackling joints and awkward tremors.
At one point, he caught sight of Elena—effortlessly balanced in a perfect Tree Pose, her slender arms lifted toward the ceiling—and nearly toppled over in distraction. That’s when he noticed the odd little detail: a paper wristband looped around her wrist, stark white with faint black lettering.
Even stranger? The only other people wearing them: the older silver-haired woman and Marisa, the instructor.
Jon waited until they transitioned into Child’s Pose (which, mercifully, mostly involved kneeling and not moving) before leaning toward Elena.
"Hey," he whispered. "Where’d you get the wristband?"
Elena blinked at him, then at her own wrist. "I don't know," she murmured, voice barely audible. "They just gave it to me after I checked in. Did you get one?"
Before Jon could answer—
"Shhhh."
Marisa shot them a pointed look from the front of the room. Elena immediately folded in on herself again, and Jon bit back a frustrated sigh. So much for conversation.
--
Then came meditation.
Lights dimmed, soft music hummed through the speakers, and Jon lay flat on his back, surrendering to the plush mat beneath him. The room sank into silence.
Around him, the others drifted effortlessly into serenity—breaths slow, bodies slack. Even Jon, despite himself, began to relax.
Then—
A scent.
Sweet, floral, intoxicating. Not overpowering—just… there. Like someone had spritzed the air with perfume, subtle but all-encompassing. Jon inhaled deeply, and suddenly, his limbs felt lighter. His thoughts mellowed. A slow, warm buzz settled over him, as if he’d sipped a shot of something strong.
What the hell…?
Then—commotion.
A hushed rustling, a sharp inhale followed by an audible "No."
Jon cracked open an eye.
The older woman sat bolt upright, fists clenched in her lap. Her face was twisted—not in pain, but in... frustration? Anger?
Marisa swooped in instantly, murmuring something soothing before gently guiding her out of the room. The woman didn’t resist, but as the door shut behind them, the air in the studio shifted.
Jon exhaled. Probably nothing.
He closed his eyes again.
And promptly dozed off.
--
When he stirred, the lights were up, and the music had faded. Around him, people stretched, sighed, smiled—blissed-out expressions plastered on every face.
Including Elena’s.
Except now, Elena wasn’t avoiding eye contact.
She wasn’t shy.She was beaming.
Jon barely had time to process before she bounced up to him, rolling up her mat with effortless fluidity.
"Hey," she chirped, "what was your name again?"
"Uh—Jon?"
She laughed—bright, loud. "Right! Sorry!" Then she stuck out her hand. "I’m Elena."
But the way she said it was… off. Over-enunciated. "I’M EL-EEEE-NA." As if she was announcing it to the room.
And then—she winked.
Jon stared.
Five minutes ago, this girl wouldn’t look at him. Now she was grinning, tossing her hair, radiating energy like she’d chugged three espressos.
"Nice to officially meet you," she said—flirty, playful—before sashaying toward the door. "See you next week!"
Then she was gone.
Jon stood frozen, mat half-rolled, brain working overtime.
--
The parking lot was empty, save for one figure.
The older woman slumped on a bench near the exit, face in her hands. Silent sobs wracked her shoulders.
Jon hesitated.
Then he climbed into his car.
And drove away.
---
A week passed before Jon mustered the willpower to return to Sunrise Yoga & Wellness.
This time, the door gave a cheerful ding as he walked in, and Marisa—grinning from ear to ear—welcomed him like an old friend.
"Jon! You actually came back!" she teased, clasping her hands together. "I was sure we scared you off for good."
He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, well, doc’s orders."
"Uh-huh, sure." She winked. "Whatever gets you here, handsome."
Jon felt his face warm. The attention was nice—too nice—and for a second, he almost forgot why he’d been weirded out last time.
Then he saw her.
Elena.
She wasn’t hiding in the corner this time. She was thriving.
Surrounded by that same circle of beautiful women, she laughed loudly at some unheard joke, tossing her dark hair over her shoulder. She looked different. Confident. Radiant. Entirely at home.
And then—her eyes flicked up.
She saw him.
A slow, knowing smile curved her lips before she excused herself and sauntered toward him.
"Jon," she purred, stopping just a little too close, one hand resting lightly on his bicep. "You made it."
He stiffened—partly from surprise, partly because she was touching him like they’d known each other for years.
"Uh, yeah," he managed. "How’s… uh…?" He swallowed. "How’s the physical therapy going?"
A flicker of confusion passed over her face.
Then—just like that—it smoothed into recognition.
"Right! The accident." She laughed, brushing it off. "It’s going great. Thanks for asking."
Jon frowned. Last week, she’d acted like stepping out of her shell was impossible. Now she was making him the nervous one?
Before he could press, another woman walked in—young, gorgeous, glancing around the room with the cautious energy of a first-timer.
Elena immediately lit up.
"Ooooh, fresh meat," she whispered playfully—then shot Jon an apologetic smirk. "Duty calls. Catch you later?"
And just like that, she glided toward the newcomer, all sunshine and charm.
Jon watched as Elena greeted the woman—a hand on her arm, a warm laugh, a little tilt of her head that said you’re safe here.
Then… she slid a white wristband onto the woman’s wrist.
Jon stiffened.
The same exact kind he’d never been given.
He scanned the room.
Only three people had them.
—The new girl.
—Marisa.
—And some unfamiliar older lady, chatting animatedly with the same group of young, polished women as last time.
What the hell is going on?
Jon rolled out his mat, his skin prickling with unease as Elena’s laughter—bright, confident, uncharacteristic—filled the room.
Something was wrong.
And he was starting to think it wasn’t just his imagination.
The class unfolded like a broken-record replay of last week.
Jon struggled through the poses, his muscles protesting as he tried—and failed—to bend his body into shapes it clearly wasn’t meant to hold. Downward Dog still felt less like yoga and more like an uncoordinated stretch before faceplanting. Elena, meanwhile, had become disturbingly good overnight—her movements fluid, effortless, like she’d been doing this for years.
Which was impossible. She was new. Just like me.
Then came the wristbands.
Jon stole glances whenever he could, watching as the new girl—Emma, was it?—kept touching hers, running her fingers over the black lettering Jon still couldn’t read.
Elena noticed him looking and grinned. "whatcha lookin at hon?" she teased, swaying close during a water break.
"Those wristbands. You said last week they gave you one when you walked in. And then you have that new girl Emma one today. What are they for?" Jon hedged.
"Mmmmm, darling those are just for new people. You don't need one." she giggled, popping her hip. Jon wanted to investigate further so he asked "but I was new last week and I never got one. Why is that?" She looked nervous for about a nano second and then replied with "well you're not new anymore sweetheart! So I wouldn't worry your handsome head about it now." she said winking and then she was off again, leaving him standing there like an idiot.
——
Meditation.
Lights dimmed. Music hummed. The same cloying floral scent from last time curled through the air—thick, honey-sweet, with a weight to it that made Jon’s limbs feel like they were floating.
The high crept in slow, a warm, dizzying sensation that smoothed the edges of his thoughts.
Then—
A rustle. A sharp inhale.
Jon slitted his eyes open just in time to see the older woman—the new one this time—jerk upright, her breath ragged.
"What the fu-," she hissed under her breath. Looking at her hands with confusion and touching her face.
Marisa was on her instantly, murmuring soft words, gently steering her toward the door.
Jon’s pulse kicked.
Just like last week.
He wanted to follow. To ask questions. But his body ignored him, melting further into the mat, the scent wrapping around him like a drug.
His eyes closed.
——
Aftermath.
The lights came up. People stretched, sighed, exchanged soft smiles. Jon blinked back to reality, disoriented, an odd languidness clinging to his limbs.
Beside him, the new girl—Emma—sat up, her expression transformed.
No hesitation. No uncertainty.
She turned to Elena, beaming. "I get what you meant now," she whispered, touching her wristband.
"Told you," Elena smirked back at her new friend.
Jon’s stomach twisted.
Across the room, Marisa stretched her arms overhead, sighing in contentment. "Another amazing session, everyone! See you next week!"
Jon gathered his mat, mind racing.
Same scents. Same meditative shift. Same wristbands.
And now—same people?
He glanced over his shoulder just as Elena caught his eye. She winked, slow, deliberate.
"I think the gals are getting together this weekend for drinks, Jon," she sang. "You should join us, right EMMA?"
Emma was looking down at herself and not paying attention, but then looked back up and looked Jon up and down nodding playfully.
Marisa echoed the invitation for drinks Friday night and Jon politely agreed.
He barely made it to his car before he noticed.
The older woman sat slumped against the wheel of her parked SUV.
Crying.
---
Later that week, Jon found himself harassed and eventually coerced into going out with his new yoga "friends".
The Lone Star Saloon was the kind of small-town bar where the neon sign buzzed, the jukebox played a mix of classic country and top-40 hits no one asked for, and everybody knew everybody—or at least pretended to.
Jon pushed through the scarred wooden door, the chatter of voices and twang of steel guitar hitting him in a wall of sound. He spotted them immediately—the Sunrise Yoga crew clustered around a long table in the back, drinks gleaming under the dim amber lights.
Marisa waved him over, her smile luminous. "Jon! You came!"
He forced a grin, sliding into the booth beside her. "Wouldn’t miss it."
The table was packed—Elena, Emma, the other regulars from class—all polished and glowing like they’d stepped out of some sleek magazine ad for "Small-Town Goddesses." But what caught Jon’s attention were the men—because nearly a third of the girls weren’t alone.
They were with older men.
Much older.
Silver-haired gentlemen in pressed button-downs laughing intimately with girls young enough to be their daughters. One man—late 50s, tan, with the crisp confidence of money—had his hand possessively on the thigh of a yoga regular Jon recognized from class. Another, balding and thick around the middle, leaned in to whisper something that made his dark-haired companion giggle into her cocktail.
Jon frowned, swirling his beer.
A sharp elbow nudged his ribs.
"See something you like?" Marisa murmured, leaning in so close her perfume—something expensive, fruity—tickled his nose.
"Just… surprised," Jon admitted quietly, gesturing subtly toward one of the older couples. "Didn’t realize this was a date night."
Marisa’s laugh was bright, deliberate. "Oh, sweetie, age is just a number. Love doesn’t clock out at forty."
Jon wanted to press—but Elena suddenly appeared at his other side, draping herself halfway over his shoulders. Her touch was warm, her voice whiskey-smooth.
"Don’t worry, Jon," she teased, her breath sweet with gin. "Plenty of us aren’t taken yet."
Emma giggled across the table, twirling her straw. "Speak for yourself."
Elena gasped—mock-offended—and launched into some dramatic retort Jon barely heard.
His attention snagged on the older couple again.
The way the girl—Tiffany?—traced her fingers over her boyfriend’s wrist.
The same white wristband peeked out from under her sleeve.
Just like the others.
Jon’s pulse hitched.
Before he could react, Marisa clinked her glass against his bottle, pulling his focus back.
"To new friends," she toasted, smiling.
Around the table, glasses lifted.
Jon hesitated—then drank.
The beer tasted bitter.
Or maybe that was just the dread creeping up his throat.
The night should’ve been weird.
Elena was trashed—giggling so hard she almost knocked over Emma’s cosmo, her voice sharp and loud in that way drunk people never realize is obnoxious. Emma wasn’t far behind, slurring compliments like "Jon, you’re actually, like, soo funny when you’re not just, like… working out or whatever."
But despite the strangeness hanging over the yoga crew, Jon was surprised to find himself… having fun.
Mostly thanks to Marisa.
She was effortlessly engaging—switching between sarcastic wit and warm wisdom like it was nothing. Every joke landed, every story pulled him in. She teased him about his stiff posture ("Even in a bar booth, you sit like you’re about to deadlift it") but listened intently when he told her about his job, his move to Texas, even his stupid back injury.
At one point, after refilling his beer without him noticing, she smirked and said, "You know, I was worried you’d be the broody, silent type forever. But you’re kinda charming when you’re not scowling."
Jon snorted. "Thanks, I think."
"Oh, it’s a compliment," she laughed, flicking her dark braid over her shoulder. "Most guys in this town peak in high school and never recover."
And yeah—she was older. Easily mid-40s. Not someone he’d look at twice in that way. But damn if she wasn’t the most interesting person in the room.
Then the door swung open.
And all the warmth in Jon’s chest evaporated.
Mariah.
Dressed in jeans that hugged her just right and a soft sweater that made her skin glow under the bar lights. And beside her—Jackson. Broad-shouldered, clean-cut, the kind of guy who looked like he spent more time on his skincare routine than Jon did on meal prep.
Jon’s grip tightened around his bottle.
He shouldn’t care.
But fuck.
Mariah’s eyes swept the room—paused on him—widened slightly. Then she smiled, small but genuine, and lifted her fingers in a little wave.
Jon managed a stiff nod.
Elena, drunk and oblivious, followed his gaze and gasped. "Oh! Omigod, it’s—" She shot up, wobbling. "—Time for shots! Right, Jon? Right?"
Marisa’s gaze flicked between Jon and Mariah, sharp with understanding.
"Well well," she murmured, lips curving. "This night just got interesting."
And Jon—
Jon really wished he wasn’t trapped in this booth.
Marisa leaned in, her eyes glinting with amusement. "Oh? Nobody important?" she echoed, watching as Mariah and her boyfriend wound their way toward them through the crowd.
Jon stiffened. "I mean—we’re just friends."
"Mhmm," Marisa hummed, smirking. "The way you just said that tells me everything."
Before Jon could protest, Mariah was there—smiling warmly, her dark eyes bright.
"Jon! Hey!" she said, reaching out to briefly squeeze his shoulder. Her touch sent a jolt through him. "I didn’t expect to see you here."
Jon forced an easy smile—or what he hoped looked like one. "Yeah, uh. Yoga class outing." He gestured vaguely at the table.
Mariah’s boyfriend, Jackson, extended a hand with perfect polite-guy charm. "Hey man, nice to finally meet you. Maria’s told me a lot about you."
Maria.
Not Mariah.
The nickname grated like nails on a chalkboard.
Jon shook his hand—too tight, probably—and muttered, "All good things, I hope."
Jackson laughed, oblivious. "Of course. Says you spot her on squats."
Mariah rolled her eyes playfully. "Jon’s saved my life multiple times from being squashed by a barbell."
Jon swallowed hard.
She was glowing. Happy. Relaxed. Everything about her body language screamed comfortable with this guy.
It stung.
The small talk lasted another painful minute before Mariah excused them both. "We’re meeting some of Jackson’s coworkers, but it was nice seeing you!" She hesitated, then added, "You should come to the gym next week. I’ve missed my lifting buddy."
Missed.
The word dangled between them like bait.
"Yeah," Jon rasped. "Maybe."
And just like that, she was gone again—Jackson’s hand sliding naturally to the small of her back as they walked away.
Jon exhaled slowly.
Marisa didn’t wait.
"Ohhhh honey," she drawled, swirling her drink. "That was painful to watch."
Jon groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up."
"That wasn’t just nobody important." She nudged him. "Tell me the truth—you’ve got a thing for her, don’t you?"
He debated lying.
But the alcohol loosened his tongue.
"Yeah," he muttered. "And it’s fucking stupid."
Marisa arched a brow, sipping her whiskey. "Why?"
Jon huffed a bitter laugh. "Because she’s with him! Because I wait all week just to spot her on bench press like some lovesick puppy. Because—" He cut himself off, frustrated.
Marisa studied him for a long moment. Then, softly: "She doesn’t look at you the way she looks at him?"
Jon froze.
"It's Bullshit," he said automatically.
But Marisa didn’t push. Just shrugged and leaned back, her expression knowing.
"You know, Jon," she said simply. "You should invite her—to Yoga. You never know...your luck might turn around."
Jon didn’t answer.
Just swallowed the rest of his drink whole.
---
The following Monday, the studio was quieter than usual when Jon stepped in—soft murmurs, hushed laughter, the faint sound of bare feet on mats.
And then he saw her.
Mariah.
Standing near the front of the room in black leggings and a fitted tank, talking animatedly with Marisa.
Jon’s pulse kicked.
What the hell is she doing here?
As if sensing his stare, Mariah turned. Her face lit up, and she gave him a little wave. "Hey! Surprise!"
Jon forced his legs to move forward. "You’re—uh—doing yoga now?"
Before she could answer, Marisa slipped an arm around Mariah’s shoulders, grinning. "I invited her after you left the bar. Everyone needs a little spiritual detox, right?" She winked—definitely not subtle.
Mariah laughed, rolling her eyes. "Yeah, don’t look so nervous. I won’t completely embarrass myself."
Her ease helped. A little. Jon exhaled, rubbing his neck. "Just—don’t expect me to be any help. I still can’t touch my toes."
Mariah smirked. "For a guy who lifts like you do, that’s kinda pathetic."
It was such a Mariah thing to say—playful, teasing, effortlessly slipping back into the rhythm of their gym banter—that Jon’s chest loosened.
But then—
His gaze snagged on her wrist.
A thin white band.
The wristband.
His blood went cold.
He looked around the room, counting.
Marisa had one.
No one else did.
Not Elena. Not Emma. No one but…
Mariah.
Jon’s stomach twisted.
Marisa invited her. Marisa gave her the wristband.
Was this planned?
Before he could think too much about it, the music shifted—soothing chimes, low and melodic.
Marisa clapped her hands. "Alright, lovelies! Let’s begin."
Mariah shot Jon one last grin before unfolding her mat beside him.
Jon unrolled his own, hands just a little unsteady.
He had a very bad feeling about this.
As it happens...Mariah was bad at yoga as well—but in the most endearing way possible.
She was flexible—no shock given how nimble she was with weights—but graceful? Not even close. Every transition was a half-second too slow, her balance tipping like a newborn deer on ice. At one point, halfway through Warrior Three, she wobbled so violently she windmilled her arms and nearly face-planted into Jon’s chest.
He caught her reflexively, grinning. "Maybe ease into it, Rocky."
Mariah clutched his shoulder, laughing breathlessly. "I swear this pose didn’t look this hard from the sidelines."
Jon couldn’t help it—he laughed. Really laughed. For the first time all night, the weird tension evaporated. This was just Mariah: clumsy, determined, utterly herself.
The rest of the class passed smoothly—until meditation.
As usual, the lights dimmed, slow music humming through the speakers. Marisa stretched her arms theatrically. "Alright, everyone, settle in. Deep breaths. I’ll be back in a few."
Jon frowned as she slipped out the door. Strange—she never left during meditation.
But before he could dwell on it, the room sank into silence. Ten minutes passed in a drowsy haze until—
Lights flicked on.
Elena stood at the front, smiling. "Hey guys, Marisa isn’t feeling great. She asked me to finish up. So… namaste, or whatever."
Jon sat up, blinking.
Beside him, Mariah was staring at her hands—turning them over, flexing her fingers. Almost like she was… checking them.
She caught him looking and immediately smirked. "Like what you see?"
Jon flushed. "Just—uh—making sure you didn’t pull anything."
Mariah rolled her eyes. "Relax, tough guy. I’m kidding." But her tone was different—sharper, smoother. Off.
The class dispersed quickly after that. Jon lingered, watching as Mariah gathered her things with uncharacteristic imprecision—dropping her keys, fumbling her water bottle.
Outside, the night air was thick with humidity.
"Walk me to my car?" Mariah asked, tilting her head.
"Yeah. Sure."
They crossed the darkened parking lot in silence. Mariah’s steps were confident now—almost swaggering—where earlier she’d been all stiff concentration.
Then—she stopped at a silver Honda.
Jon hesitated. "...That’s not your car."
Mariah froze.
For half a second, her face went utterly blank. Then she laughed, loud and careless. "Whoops! Wrong rental." She spun and marched three cars down to her actual Toyota.
Jon’s stomach knotted.
Rental? Mariah had owned that car for years.
She tossed her bag inside, flashing him a smirk. "See you at the gym tomorrow?"
"Yeah," Jon lied.
She drove off.
Jon stared after her, pulse humming uneasily.
Same voice. Same face.
But was that Mariah?
---
The next morning, Jon spotted her the second he walked into Iron Haven.
"Mariah".
Perched on the edge of a bench, stretching in sleek black yoga pants and a cropped athletic top—clothes he'd never seen her wear to lift before.
She caught his eye immediately, grinning as she unfolded herself in a fluid, feline motion. "There you are," she said, voice warm and teasing. "I was starting to think you were avoiding me."
Jon frowned. Her cadence was different—smoother, almost calculated. Even the way she stood seemed unnaturally poised, like someone who'd studied confidence rather than lived it.
"...You're in yoga gear," he blurted.
She glanced down, running her hands over her hips as if appreciating the fabric. "Mm. Felt like a change. Cute, right?"
Jon swallowed hard. Every alarm in his head was screaming.
Then came the real red flags.
She couldn't remember their usual push-pull split. She kept asking about muscle groups like the terms were foreign. And when she loaded up the bar for squats—
"Mariah, your knees—they're caving in. Big time," Jon warned, hovering behind her.
She just giggled. "Oops. Guess I need you to really spot me today."
Her wink was deliberate, her hips shifting invitingly as she started her descent with terrifying instability. Jon had to brace both hands on her waist to keep her from wobbling sideways—too close, too intimate.
When they switched to bench press, she abandoned form entirely, arching in a way that was less about power and more about giving him an obstructed view down her tank top.
Jon's face burned.
Then—
"So, big news," she announced between sets, twirling a lock of hair. "Me and Jackson? Done." She popped the p playfully. "Thought you'd be happy to hear that."
Jon froze mid-reach for his water bottle.
"You... broke up?"
"Mhmm." She stretched her arms overhead, watching his reaction like a cat eyeing a trapped mouse. "Long-distance sucked anyway. But now I'm single... lonely... could really use a friend tonight." Her foot nudged his calf. "Maybe you?"
Jon felt like he'd been dunked in ice water.
This wasn't Mariah.
The real Mariah would never ditch form like this. Would never flirt this blatantly. And if—some impossible fantasy—she'd actually broken up with Jackson, she'd be hurting. Drinking sad-girl wine, venting to friends, not propositioning him mid-workout.
Yet here this not-Mariah stood, smirking, waiting.
Jon forced a stiff smile. "Yeah. Maybe."
She beamed, like he'd confirmed some secret she already knew. "Great. Come by my place at 8. Don't bring beer—I've got better drinks."
She sauntered away to the water fountain, her stride too smooth, too practiced.
Jon stared after her.
He had no intention of showing up.
But he was going to figure out what the hell was happening.
---
Jon stood on Mariah’s porch at 8:03 PM, fist raised to knock, heart hammering like he was about to step into a trap.
Because he was.
But he had to know.
The door swung open before his knuckles even touched wood.
Mariah leaned against the frame, bathed in warm lamplight—barefoot, in a silky slip of a dress that clung to every curve. A far cry from her usual gym shorts and oversized tees.
"You came," she purred, stepping aside to let him in.
Jon forced himself to move. "Yeah. Wouldn’t miss it."
The apartment smelled like vanilla and red wine. Candles flickered on the coffee table beside an already half-empty bottle.
Mariah snatched it up, pouring him a glass without asking. "Relax," she laughed, pressing it into his hand. "You look like you’re about to bolt."
Jon took a sip. "Just… surprised, I guess."
"About?" She flopped onto the couch, patting the space beside her.
"This. You. Us hanging out like…" He gestured vaguely at the wine, the dim lighting, her.
Mariah’s smile turned sly. "Like a date?"
Jon choked on his drink.
She just giggled, leaning in to swipe a thumb over the corner of his lips, catching the spilled wine. Then—slow, deliberate—she sucked it off her own finger, watching him.
Jon’s pulse roared in his ears.
This was wrong.
The real Mariah would’ve teased him, sure. Would’ve maybe flirted after one too many drinks. But not like this. Not with this calculated, predatory heat.
Yet here she was, closing the distance between them, her knee brushing his.
"You’ve always been so careful with me," she murmured, fingers tracing idle circles on his thigh. "But you don’t have to be. Not anymore."
Jon’s grip tightened on his glass. "Mariah—"
"Shhh." Her hand slid up to cradle his jaw. "Just kiss me."
And then she did.
Her mouth was warm, insistent—wrong. The way she moved, the taste of her, the pressure—it was like kissing a stranger wearing Mariah’s skin. Little did he know how right he was.
Jon pulled back, breath ragged.
Mariah just smirked, licking her lips. "See? Not so hard."
Mariah didn’t just kiss him—she consumed him.
One second, Jon was reeling from the wrongness of it all—the next, her hands were fisted in his shirt, yanking him forward until his back hit the couch. Her teeth scraped his lower lip, sharp enough to make him groan, and suddenly any semblance of hesitation shattered.
Her tongue swiped against his, tasting of rich red wine and something else—something darkly intoxicating. She climbed onto his lap in one smooth motion, her silky dress riding up as she straddled him.
“You’ve wanted this,” she breathed, grinding down against the painful hardness in his jeans. “For so long.”
Jon’s hands found her hips on instinct, gripping tight as she rocked against him. He should’ve stopped. Should’ve asked what the hell was happening.
But then her mouth was on his neck, nipping, sucking, marking him like she was staking a claim—and logic dissolved.
She pulled back just enough to smirk at the mess she’d made of him.
“Pathetic,” she teased, dragging her nails down his chest. “All this time pretending you didn’t want me.”
Before he could respond, she slid off his lap and onto her knees between his legs.
Her fingers made quick work of his belt, his zipper, his straining boxers. When she freed him, hot and heavy in her grip, she licked her lips—slow, deliberate, savoring the moment.
Then, without warning, she took him deep.
Jon’s back arched off the couch, a ragged gasp tearing from his throat.
Fuck.
Her mouth was perfect—hot, wet, relentless. No hesitation, no teasing buildup. Just ruthless skill. Her tongue swirled around the head, her lips tightened on the upstroke, her nails dug into his thighs when he tried to buck deeper. “Don’t,” she warned, smirking up at him before swallowing him down again.
Jon’s vision blurred.
She was too good. Knew exactly how to hollow her cheeks, when to hum, when to drag her teeth just enough to make him see stars. It wasn’t just the best head of his life—it was like she’d mapped out every desperate fantasy he’d ever had and cranked it to eleven.
When he growled, “I’m close,” she didn’t pull away.
She laughed around him—laughed—and doubled down, taking him to the hilt.
Jon came with a curse, fingers tangled in her hair as she milked him through it, swallowing every drop.
He barely had time to recover before she climbed back into his lap, yanking her dress down over her shoulders in one motion. No bra. Just smooth, golden skin and perfect curves.
Jon crushed her against him, hands roaming, mouth claiming hers again—but she was the one in control.
She pushed him back onto the couch, guiding him inside her with a slow, torturous roll of her hips. He hissed at the slick, blazing heat of her.
Then she moved.
No sweet, tentative rhythm. Just pure, unrelenting dominance. She rode him like she was punishing him for every second he’d spent pining—hard, fast, her nails scoring down his chest as she chased her own pleasure.
“Look at you,” she taunted, grinding down, clenching around him. “Mr. Self-Control.”
Jon didn’t last. Couldn’t. Not with her above him—eyes dark, body arching, her breath coming in sharp, needy gasps.
He flipped her beneath him in one rough motion, driving into her deep enough to wrench a sharp cry from her lips.
“Jon—!”
He didn’t stop. Couldn’t.
Their coupling turned savage—skin slapping, teeth clashing, her thighs trembling around his waist as she clawed at his back. When she came, it was with a scream, her body locking around him like a vice.
Jon followed, burying himself inside her with a groan.
For a long moment, the only sounds were their ragged breaths.
Then she laughed.
Low. Triumphant.
Jon tensed.
Because that laugh—
It didn’t belong to Mariah.
Jon froze as Mariah's laugh - too deep, too smug, too knowing - echoed through the bedroom. That wasn't Mariah's giggle. That wasn't Mariah's playful tone.
He recognized it only a nanosecond later...That was Marisa.
"Enjoy yourself, big boy?" the woman in Mariah's body purred, stretching like a satisfied cat as she rolled away from him. When she turned back, there was something terrifyingly wrong about the way she moved - the familiar curves now inhabited by something alien. "I knew you'd be fun."
Jon sat up sharply, the post-coital haze evaporating. "What the fuck are you?"
Mariah's lips - no, not Mariah's lips - curved into a smile Jon had only ever seen on one person before.
"Smart boy," Marisa chuckled from Mariah's mouth, running Mariah's hands down Mariah's body in a way that made Jon's stomach lurch. "I was wondering when you'd notice."
Jon scrambled off the bed, grabbing for his pants. "Where's Mariah? What did you do to her?"
Marisa sighed dramatically, rolling Mariah's eyes - but the gesture was all wrong, like watching a bad actor play a part. "God, fine. Since you're so clever..." She sat up, tossing Mariah's hair. "I suppose you've earned the whole sordid story."
She spread Mariah's hands like she was giving a presentation.
"Astral projection. Soul transference. A little aromatherapy magic in the yoga studio. Basically..." She smirked. "I help older women trade up. Give some lonely grandma a chance to be young and beautiful again by hopping into a fresh new body. All it takes is a willing participant on each side - well, 'willing' in the loosest sense."
Jon's blood went cold as he remembered the wristbands. The older woman crying in the parking lot. The way Elena had changed so suddenly.
"You give them the bands," he breathed.
"Bingo." Marisa clapped Mariah's hands. "The wristband marks the donors. The incense during meditation loosens their soul's grip on their body just enough for me to... help them let go." She smiled. "Most of them don't even realize what's happening until it's too late."
Jon felt sick. "And the older women? You just... convince them to give up their bodies?"
Marisa shrugged. "They want to. At first they're confused, sure. But then they look in the mirror and realize what they've gained. A tight little body, smooth skin, all the time in the world..." She ran Mariah's hands over Mariah's breasts. "Would you give that up?"
Jon's stomach churned. This was worse than any nightmare his mind could come up with.
Jon felt dizzy, the room spinning as the horrific truth sank in. The yoga studio wasn't just a business - it was a hunting ground. And Mariah had walked right into the trap.
"I knew you had a thing for her," Marisa cooed, crawling toward him on the bed with Mariah's body. "So when I saw my chance to finally upgrade from my 46-year-old vessel... well, who better than your beautiful gym crush?" She laughed - that same rich, throaty laugh Jon now realized had never belonged to Mariah at all.
Jon backed away, his hands shaking as he fumbled for his phone. "I'm calling the cops. This stops now."
Marisa rolled Mariah's eyes. "And say what? That your crush's body got possessed by a yoga instructor?" She smirked. "They'll lock you in the psych ward before you finish speaking."
Panic clawed at Jon's throat. She was right. No one would believe this. But he couldn't just walk away - not while the real Mariah was...
"Where is she?" Jon demanded. "Where's Mariah's soul right now?"
Marisa stretched luxuriously. "Oh, she's fine. Currently occupying my old body locked in a dark room back at the studio and tied to a chair with a gag in her mouth so nobody has to hear her scream. A little trade we made during meditation today." Her smile turned cruel. "Though I did warn her - if she tries telling anyone, no one will believe the crazy old lady claiming to be a 24-year-old."
Jon's mind raced. The crying woman in the parking lot. The way Mariah had stumbled getting into the wrong car. The pieces fell into place with horrible clarity.
"So all of then are actually old women...," he realized. "Elena, Emma, now Mariah...all those girls."
"Very good!" Marisa applauded. "Honestly, Mariah put up more fight than most. But they all give in eventually." She sauntered closer. "Now, you've got two choices. Either accept this sexy new version of your gym buddy..." She trailed Mariah's fingers down his chest. "Or go charging off to 'save the day' and look like a goddamn fool."
Jon's fists clenched. He knew Marisa was right about one thing - no cop would ever believe his story. He was out of options.
1
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Plot
Your body was stolen by a super busty Goth Girl. You now have to live her life. You find out you switched because her family was cursed to give their bodies to a stranger of the opposite sex on their 21st birthday. Emily just chose you at random.
Characters
Emily Lunawood: The goth girl who stole your body. She is wearing fishnet stockings, a short skirt with a black lace thong under it, a revealing top with a black lace bra under it and black high heels when she steals your body. She has black hair with red dyed tips, it goes to her waist.
You: An average looking man, you have brown hair and blue eyes. Your slightly muscular.
One moment, I was pressing my palm to the mirror, mesmerized by the way my reflection moved without me. The next—reality twisted, inverted. A dizzying lurch, and I was staring out from the glass at my own horrified face.
Oh God.
My body—Emily’s body now—was already backing away, her—my—lips curling into a smirk that felt alien on my features. "Enjoy the new life," she said in my voice, rolling my shoulders like she was testing them out. "Trust me, you’ll need it."
"Switch us back!" I snapped, but the words came out in her higher, smoother tone—hers now. My hands—slender, unfamiliar—clenched at my sides.
She just smirked, my smirk, and reached for the jacket I’d draped over the chair. "Check the purse, sweetheart. You’ll definitely want to." Then, with a wink that made my stomach twist, she was gone, the door slamming behind her before I could even think to chase her—me.
Nausea rolled through me as I grabbed the leather handbag by the dresser. My fingers fumbled with the zipper, shaking as I pulled out a wallet and flipped it open. Emily Lunawood. 21. 309 Cedar Lane.
The drive was a nightmare of panicked swerves and clumsy turns; the car, an automatic, felt foreign without my stick shift to grip. Her—my—apartment was all soft grays and jasmine in the air, pristine except for the open notebook on the kitchen counter.
A single note sat beside it, written in fluid, looping script.
Sorry to whoever is now me, it read, my family was cursed years ago. On the 21st birthday, we are forced to seek out someone of the opposite sex and give them our bodies. You will be given my memories the first night you sleep. Signed Emily Lunawood.
A bitter laugh clawed its way out of my throat. Of course. I thumbed open the notebook—passwords, addresses, even a meticulously planned gym schedule—before collapsing onto the couch, my (her) head in my (her) hands.
The bed was too plush, the sheets too silky, but exhaustion won out. I fell into the dark, and when dreams came, they weren’t mine.
They were hers—childhood summers, first heartbreaks, whispered family warnings that the curse had no loopholes, no way back. And worst of all? The unshakable knowledge that no one in the Lunawood bloodline had ever escaped it.
The first thing I registered as consciousness crawled back was the delicious ache between my thighs and the whisper of stockings against freshly shaved skin. My fingers—her fingers—traced the outline of fishnets stretched taut over smooth legs, the crisscross pattern pressing kisses into flesh that wasn’t mine. A gasp caught in my throat as I realized the skirt riding up was obscenely short, the lace of my thong riding high enough to tease at the curve of my—her—ass. The top barely contained the swell of cleavage spilling over a black lace bra, the fabric sheer enough to outline hardened nipples.
I shifted—God, even the movement felt different—and nearly toppled off the bed when the spiked heels caught in the sheets. My reflection in the vanity mirror was a punch to the gut: smudged eyeliner, swollen lips bitten red, black hair cascading over bare shoulders with crimson streaks blazing through it like warning flares.
And the worst part? The thrill zipping down my spine at how good it all felt.
I got up and went to a mirror.
The mirror showed me—her—in full, and I barely recognized the predatory amusement in my new eyes. My fingers trembled as they traced the curve of my waist, the dip of my collarbone, every unfamiliar contour both alien and intoxicating. The lace of my bra dug into soft flesh when I inhaled sharply, my nails biting crescents into my palms—just to feel something real.
A slow, involuntary roll of my hips sent a jolt through me—her body knew exactly what it wanted. The fishnets rasped against my thighs as I spread my legs slightly, just enough to feel the damp heat pooling where the thong cut in.
Jesus.
I watched in horrified fascination as my reflection’s tongue swiped over painted lips, my own breath coming faster as I fought the urge to slide a hand lower. This wasn’t me—
But the thought shattered when I arched my back experimentally, and the bra’s clasp strained against the motion. A whimper escaped me—high, breathy, embarrassingly feminine—as my nipple peaked tighter against the lace, the sensation so intense it nearly buckled my knees.
The purse Emily left gaped open on the bed, a glint of metal catching my eye. I reached for it with shaking fingers and pulled out a slim silver vibrator, still slick with—
Oh God, she’d been using this right before swapping us.
The realization burned through me hotter than shame. My reflection’s pupils blew wide as my thumb brushed the damp button, the device humming to life with a predatory purr. The sound alone dragged a moan from my throat—her throat.
I shouldn’t.
I couldn’t stop.
The vibrator pressed against my inner thigh, the vibrations rippling up through the fishnets like a live wire. Every rational thought short-circuited when I dragged it higher, the lace of my panties already soaked through.
The mirror showed it all—the way my hips jerked when the buzzing found my clit, the obscene glide of the toy through slick folds as I fucked myself with it in frantic, shallow thrusts.
"Fuck—fuck—" My voice was a broken thing, her voice, her pleasure, even as my mind screamed that this wasn’t right.
But God, it felt like heaven.
The orgasm hit like a train, my back slamming against the vanity as my legs gave out. Pleasure pulsed through me in dizzying waves, my reflection’s mouth slack with ecstasy, mascara streaking down flushed cheeks.
I slid to the floor, trembling, the vibrator still buzzing weakly against my thigh.
What the hell was I becoming?
The question pulsed through me like a second heartbeat as I stared at my reflection lips parted, chest rising and falling rapidly. The need to feel more, to explore this stolen flesh, burned hotter than reason.
The top was the first to go. I reached behind my neck to undo the clasp, letting the silky material pool around my waist before sliding it the rest of the way down.
With shaking hands, I reached up and tugged at the straps of the lace bra, seeing in the process a 42F tag. The fabric resisted for a moment before giving way, setting my full breasts free. They bounced slightly with the motion, nipples hardening immediately in the cool air. A shiver ran through me as my fingers brushed against one, the contact sending a jolt straight to my still-throbbing core.
The fishnets came next. I hooked my thumbs into the waistband, rolling them down with slow, deliberate movements. The material clung stubbornly, the crisscross pattern stretching then snapping back against my hips with each inch exposed. Smooth skin emerged beneath, freshly waxed and still tingling from earlier.
The thong was soaked through, the damp lace clinging obscenely when I finally shimmied out of it. My fingers trailed along the inside of my thighs before pausing at the apex - so smooth, so incredibly different. The scent of my own arousal filled the air as I tentatively spread my legs wider, watching in the mirror as the evidence of my pleasure glistened under soft light.
I ran trembling hands over my new body - from the dip of my waist up to cup my breasts, thumbs circling peaked nipples that responded eagerly to every touch. A breathy moan escaped my lips as one hand slid lower, fingertips brushing through damp curls before sinking into slick heat.
This isn't me.
This feels so good.
The contradictions warred in my mind even as my body arched into my own touch, hips rocking against my fingers with increasing urgency. The mirror showed it all - showed her - lost in pleasure, mouth open in silent ecstasy as fingers worked furiously between spread thighs.
When the wave crashed over me this time, I barely recognized my own scream.
The shower did nothing to wash away the surreal thrill of my stolen skin—every inch of Emily’s body still buzzed unnervingly under my touch. Steam fogged the mirror as I toweled off, deliberately running my (her) hands down the unfamiliar slope of narrow waist and curved hips. The face staring back—sharp cheekbones, violet eyes heavy with something darkly knowing—still sent a jolt through me.
I knotted the silk robe too tight, ignoring how it barely covered her thighs. Luckily thanks to her memories, I knew she didn't have any close relationships. I also knew that she would find me again soon, since the curse had a second component. The swapped individuals would fall in love and help continue the family line.
Emily—me now—had left more than just her lipsticks and half-used perfume. The sleek black phone buzzed beneath my fingers, unlocked by my—her—face. I swallowed hard. Time to take inventory of my new life.
Bank Account
The app opened instantly. I blinked.
$84,756.22
I actually laughed, sharp and disbelieving. Savings account? Another $312K. I tapped through transaction history—monthly deposits from something called Lunawood Holdings for $15K, along with smaller payments labeled consulting fees. What the hell kind of consulting did she do?
Social Media
The first tab I tapped was Instagram—her Instagram. My stomach clenched as the app loaded, revealing a digital shrine to seduction. The blue checkmark was inevitable. The bio burned into my retinas: 💋 Your Next Bad Decision 💋, all smirking lips and dangerous promise.
The feed was a slow, deliberate burn—no accidents here. Every shot was a masterclass in teasing control. Silk sheets tangled around one bare thigh, the shadow-dipped dip of her spine as she arched over a hotel balcony, a crimson-lacquered nail dragging down a champagne flute. No laughter, no adrenaline—just heat, simmering in every flick of her wrist, every half-lidded glance at the camera like she could already feel hands on her skin. The captions were sparse, deliberate: "Late nights only", "Tell me how badly you want it", "Good boys don't get to touch."
Every post wasn’t just a demand to look—it was a dare to want.
Twitter was a constant stream of punchy one-liners and suggestive stunt reels. TikTok was a minefield of temptation—short, scorching loops of Emily arching against silk bedsheets, biting her lower lip in teasing slow-motion, her fingers tracing idle circles over the lace hem of lingerie before cutting to black. No laughter, no wasted movement—just a half-second of exposed thigh, the barest glimpse of teeth grazing skin, all set to a pulse-heavy soundtrack that left you craving another replay. Every clip was a dare wrapped in five seconds of sin.
OnlyFans
The icon made my fingers hesitate. Of course she had one. I tapped it—password already saved—and nearly choked.
$27K last month. $42K the month before. A catalog of paywalled galleries—Mistress in Marble, Bondage & Breakfast, each one featuring me now, in poses so sinful my pulse stuttered. There I was, sprawled across black satin sheets, fingers tangled in my own hair as I arched toward the camera, lips parted just enough to tease. Another series showed me kneeling in thigh-high stockings, the garter straps biting into creamy skin while I stared down the lens with heavy-lidded authority.
Subscriptions
Then came the subscriptions. Of course she had every premium streaming service—Netflix, HBO, the works—but the real fun started scrolling down. Paid access to high-end porn sites, all sleek branding and "exclusive content." A membership to Velvet Orbit, some kind of luxury erotic streaming platform with thumbnails featuring tangled limbs under silk sheets and promises of "real couples, real desires."
I was closing out of the accounts when I heard it—three sharp raps against the bedroom wall, followed by two slower ones. A pattern. Deliberate.
My breath caught. That wasn’t the front door.
Emily’s memories surfaced like fragments of a dream—pressed against this same wall, her fingers finding the nearly invisible seam in the wallpaper, pushing just so—
A hidden door clicked open.
I froze as the panel swung inward, revealing a narrow passage barely wide enough for shoulders. And there, leaning against the frame with a smirk that matched the one I’d worn earlier, stood me.
My old body looked different now. The way he held himself was all Emily; the cocky tilt of his chin, the way his fingers drummed a lazy rhythm against his thigh. His shirt hung open, revealing the chest I used to know every scar and freckle of.
“Miss me already?” His voice was mine, but the cadence, the purr—hers.
“You—” My throat tightened. I hadn’t realized how much taller I used to be until I had to look up at myself.
“Uh-uh.” He wagged a finger—my finger—and stepped inside, the hidden door whispering shut behind him. “Rule one of the curse: no take-backs.” His gaze dragged over me, lingering where the robe gaped at my chest. “Though I do like what I see.”
A flush burned up my neck. “This isn’t funny.”
“Oh, it’s hilarious.” He prowled closer, close enough that I caught my old cologne on his skin. “I was hoping you’d find the toys first.” His grin widened as my cheeks heated. “Oh, you did.”
I backed up until the vanity dug into my spine. “Why are you here?”
His grin turned wicked as he leaned in, close enough for his borrowed lips to brush my ear. "Because you will be my bride and help continue the line as per the second half of the curse."
A few years later
The pain was unbearable—a searing, primal fire tearing through me with every contraction. My nails dug into the hospital bed sheets, sweat gluing Emily’s—no, mine now—long black hair to my face.
"You’re doing amazing," he murmured, squeezing my hand. Even now, with my old face lined with worry, the way he tilted his head was pure Emily—that same confident smirk tempered by something softer. The silver band on his finger glinted under the harsh hospital lights, matching the one nestled securely against my own ring finger.
"Shut up," I gasped, arching off the bed as another wave hit. "This is your fault.*"
He just chuckled, brushing damp strands back from my forehead. "Our family now, sweetheart." His thumb traced my knuckles. "And trust me, when you hold her, you won’t regret a damn thing."
The nurse between my legs looked up, grinning. "One more push, Mom. She’s right there."
I barely had time to scream before the pressure shattered into sudden, dizzying relief. A fragile, furious wail filled the room, and then—
Her.
Tiny. Perfect. Swaddled in a pink blanket and placed carefully against my chest, her little face scrunched up in outrage. Dark lashes fluttered against petal-soft cheeks, her miniature fingers curling reflexively around mine.
"Congratulations," the nurse murmured. "She’s beautiful."
I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe. The weight of her was terrifying, intoxicating—mine.
"She has your nose," he whispered, bending to press a kiss to my temple. His—my old—calloused finger traced the baby’s shock of dark hair. "But your mother’s eyes." His voice cracked. "God, look at her."
The baby blinked up at us, her tiny mouth working silently before she settled with a sigh. The monitors beeped steadily, the world narrowing to this moment—this impossible, inevitable moment.
I leaned back against the pillows, exhausted, euphoric, and met my husband’s gaze.
"Worth it?" he teased, wiping a tear from my cheek with his thumb.
I clutched our daughter tighter—the next in the Lunawood line—and laughed through the tears.
Your body was stolen by a super busty Goth Girl. You now have to live her life. You find out you switched because her family was cursed to give their bodies to a stranger of the opposite sex on their 21st birthday. Emily just chose you at random.
Characters
Emily Lunawood: The goth girl who stole your body. She is wearing fishnet stockings, a short skirt with a black lace thong under it, a revealing top with a black lace bra under it and black high heels when she steals your body. She has black hair with red dyed tips, it goes to her waist.
You: An average looking man, you have brown hair and blue eyes. Your slightly muscular.
One moment, I was pressing my palm to the mirror, mesmerized by the way my reflection moved without me. The next—reality twisted, inverted. A dizzying lurch, and I was staring out from the glass at my own horrified face.
Oh God.
My body—Emily’s body now—was already backing away, her—my—lips curling into a smirk that felt alien on my features. "Enjoy the new life," she said in my voice, rolling my shoulders like she was testing them out. "Trust me, you’ll need it."
"Switch us back!" I snapped, but the words came out in her higher, smoother tone—hers now. My hands—slender, unfamiliar—clenched at my sides.
She just smirked, my smirk, and reached for the jacket I’d draped over the chair. "Check the purse, sweetheart. You’ll definitely want to." Then, with a wink that made my stomach twist, she was gone, the door slamming behind her before I could even think to chase her—me.
Nausea rolled through me as I grabbed the leather handbag by the dresser. My fingers fumbled with the zipper, shaking as I pulled out a wallet and flipped it open. Emily Lunawood. 21. 309 Cedar Lane.
The drive was a nightmare of panicked swerves and clumsy turns; the car, an automatic, felt foreign without my stick shift to grip. Her—my—apartment was all soft grays and jasmine in the air, pristine except for the open notebook on the kitchen counter.
A single note sat beside it, written in fluid, looping script.
Sorry to whoever is now me, it read, my family was cursed years ago. On the 21st birthday, we are forced to seek out someone of the opposite sex and give them our bodies. You will be given my memories the first night you sleep. Signed Emily Lunawood.
A bitter laugh clawed its way out of my throat. Of course. I thumbed open the notebook—passwords, addresses, even a meticulously planned gym schedule—before collapsing onto the couch, my (her) head in my (her) hands.
The bed was too plush, the sheets too silky, but exhaustion won out. I fell into the dark, and when dreams came, they weren’t mine.
They were hers—childhood summers, first heartbreaks, whispered family warnings that the curse had no loopholes, no way back. And worst of all? The unshakable knowledge that no one in the Lunawood bloodline had ever escaped it.
The first thing I registered as consciousness crawled back was the delicious ache between my thighs and the whisper of stockings against freshly shaved skin. My fingers—her fingers—traced the outline of fishnets stretched taut over smooth legs, the crisscross pattern pressing kisses into flesh that wasn’t mine. A gasp caught in my throat as I realized the skirt riding up was obscenely short, the lace of my thong riding high enough to tease at the curve of my—her—ass. The top barely contained the swell of cleavage spilling over a black lace bra, the fabric sheer enough to outline hardened nipples.
I shifted—God, even the movement felt different—and nearly toppled off the bed when the spiked heels caught in the sheets. My reflection in the vanity mirror was a punch to the gut: smudged eyeliner, swollen lips bitten red, black hair cascading over bare shoulders with crimson streaks blazing through it like warning flares.
And the worst part? The thrill zipping down my spine at how good it all felt.
I got up and went to a mirror.
The mirror showed me—her—in full, and I barely recognized the predatory amusement in my new eyes. My fingers trembled as they traced the curve of my waist, the dip of my collarbone, every unfamiliar contour both alien and intoxicating. The lace of my bra dug into soft flesh when I inhaled sharply, my nails biting crescents into my palms—just to feel something real.
A slow, involuntary roll of my hips sent a jolt through me—her body knew exactly what it wanted. The fishnets rasped against my thighs as I spread my legs slightly, just enough to feel the damp heat pooling where the thong cut in.
Jesus.
I watched in horrified fascination as my reflection’s tongue swiped over painted lips, my own breath coming faster as I fought the urge to slide a hand lower. This wasn’t me—
But the thought shattered when I arched my back experimentally, and the bra’s clasp strained against the motion. A whimper escaped me—high, breathy, embarrassingly feminine—as my nipple peaked tighter against the lace, the sensation so intense it nearly buckled my knees.
The purse Emily left gaped open on the bed, a glint of metal catching my eye. I reached for it with shaking fingers and pulled out a slim silver vibrator, still slick with—
Oh God, she’d been using this right before swapping us.
The realization burned through me hotter than shame. My reflection’s pupils blew wide as my thumb brushed the damp button, the device humming to life with a predatory purr. The sound alone dragged a moan from my throat—her throat.
I shouldn’t.
I couldn’t stop.
The vibrator pressed against my inner thigh, the vibrations rippling up through the fishnets like a live wire. Every rational thought short-circuited when I dragged it higher, the lace of my panties already soaked through.
The mirror showed it all—the way my hips jerked when the buzzing found my clit, the obscene glide of the toy through slick folds as I fucked myself with it in frantic, shallow thrusts.
"Fuck—fuck—" My voice was a broken thing, her voice, her pleasure, even as my mind screamed that this wasn’t right.
But God, it felt like heaven.
The orgasm hit like a train, my back slamming against the vanity as my legs gave out. Pleasure pulsed through me in dizzying waves, my reflection’s mouth slack with ecstasy, mascara streaking down flushed cheeks.
I slid to the floor, trembling, the vibrator still buzzing weakly against my thigh.
What the hell was I becoming?
The question pulsed through me like a second heartbeat as I stared at my reflection lips parted, chest rising and falling rapidly. The need to feel more, to explore this stolen flesh, burned hotter than reason.
The top was the first to go. I reached behind my neck to undo the clasp, letting the silky material pool around my waist before sliding it the rest of the way down.
With shaking hands, I reached up and tugged at the straps of the lace bra, seeing in the process a 42F tag. The fabric resisted for a moment before giving way, setting my full breasts free. They bounced slightly with the motion, nipples hardening immediately in the cool air. A shiver ran through me as my fingers brushed against one, the contact sending a jolt straight to my still-throbbing core.
The fishnets came next. I hooked my thumbs into the waistband, rolling them down with slow, deliberate movements. The material clung stubbornly, the crisscross pattern stretching then snapping back against my hips with each inch exposed. Smooth skin emerged beneath, freshly waxed and still tingling from earlier.
The thong was soaked through, the damp lace clinging obscenely when I finally shimmied out of it. My fingers trailed along the inside of my thighs before pausing at the apex - so smooth, so incredibly different. The scent of my own arousal filled the air as I tentatively spread my legs wider, watching in the mirror as the evidence of my pleasure glistened under soft light.
I ran trembling hands over my new body - from the dip of my waist up to cup my breasts, thumbs circling peaked nipples that responded eagerly to every touch. A breathy moan escaped my lips as one hand slid lower, fingertips brushing through damp curls before sinking into slick heat.
This isn't me.
This feels so good.
The contradictions warred in my mind even as my body arched into my own touch, hips rocking against my fingers with increasing urgency. The mirror showed it all - showed her - lost in pleasure, mouth open in silent ecstasy as fingers worked furiously between spread thighs.
When the wave crashed over me this time, I barely recognized my own scream.
The shower did nothing to wash away the surreal thrill of my stolen skin—every inch of Emily’s body still buzzed unnervingly under my touch. Steam fogged the mirror as I toweled off, deliberately running my (her) hands down the unfamiliar slope of narrow waist and curved hips. The face staring back—sharp cheekbones, violet eyes heavy with something darkly knowing—still sent a jolt through me.
I knotted the silk robe too tight, ignoring how it barely covered her thighs. Luckily thanks to her memories, I knew she didn't have any close relationships. I also knew that she would find me again soon, since the curse had a second component. The swapped individuals would fall in love and help continue the family line.
Emily—me now—had left more than just her lipsticks and half-used perfume. The sleek black phone buzzed beneath my fingers, unlocked by my—her—face. I swallowed hard. Time to take inventory of my new life.
Bank Account
The app opened instantly. I blinked.
$84,756.22
I actually laughed, sharp and disbelieving. Savings account? Another $312K. I tapped through transaction history—monthly deposits from something called Lunawood Holdings for $15K, along with smaller payments labeled consulting fees. What the hell kind of consulting did she do?
Social Media
The first tab I tapped was Instagram—her Instagram. My stomach clenched as the app loaded, revealing a digital shrine to seduction. The blue checkmark was inevitable. The bio burned into my retinas: 💋 Your Next Bad Decision 💋, all smirking lips and dangerous promise.
The feed was a slow, deliberate burn—no accidents here. Every shot was a masterclass in teasing control. Silk sheets tangled around one bare thigh, the shadow-dipped dip of her spine as she arched over a hotel balcony, a crimson-lacquered nail dragging down a champagne flute. No laughter, no adrenaline—just heat, simmering in every flick of her wrist, every half-lidded glance at the camera like she could already feel hands on her skin. The captions were sparse, deliberate: "Late nights only", "Tell me how badly you want it", "Good boys don't get to touch."
Every post wasn’t just a demand to look—it was a dare to want.
Twitter was a constant stream of punchy one-liners and suggestive stunt reels. TikTok was a minefield of temptation—short, scorching loops of Emily arching against silk bedsheets, biting her lower lip in teasing slow-motion, her fingers tracing idle circles over the lace hem of lingerie before cutting to black. No laughter, no wasted movement—just a half-second of exposed thigh, the barest glimpse of teeth grazing skin, all set to a pulse-heavy soundtrack that left you craving another replay. Every clip was a dare wrapped in five seconds of sin.
OnlyFans
The icon made my fingers hesitate. Of course she had one. I tapped it—password already saved—and nearly choked.
$27K last month. $42K the month before. A catalog of paywalled galleries—Mistress in Marble, Bondage & Breakfast, each one featuring me now, in poses so sinful my pulse stuttered. There I was, sprawled across black satin sheets, fingers tangled in my own hair as I arched toward the camera, lips parted just enough to tease. Another series showed me kneeling in thigh-high stockings, the garter straps biting into creamy skin while I stared down the lens with heavy-lidded authority.
Subscriptions
Then came the subscriptions. Of course she had every premium streaming service—Netflix, HBO, the works—but the real fun started scrolling down. Paid access to high-end porn sites, all sleek branding and "exclusive content." A membership to Velvet Orbit, some kind of luxury erotic streaming platform with thumbnails featuring tangled limbs under silk sheets and promises of "real couples, real desires."
I was closing out of the accounts when I heard it—three sharp raps against the bedroom wall, followed by two slower ones. A pattern. Deliberate.
My breath caught. That wasn’t the front door.
Emily’s memories surfaced like fragments of a dream—pressed against this same wall, her fingers finding the nearly invisible seam in the wallpaper, pushing just so—
A hidden door clicked open.
I froze as the panel swung inward, revealing a narrow passage barely wide enough for shoulders. And there, leaning against the frame with a smirk that matched the one I’d worn earlier, stood me.
My old body looked different now. The way he held himself was all Emily; the cocky tilt of his chin, the way his fingers drummed a lazy rhythm against his thigh. His shirt hung open, revealing the chest I used to know every scar and freckle of.
“Miss me already?” His voice was mine, but the cadence, the purr—hers.
“You—” My throat tightened. I hadn’t realized how much taller I used to be until I had to look up at myself.
“Uh-uh.” He wagged a finger—my finger—and stepped inside, the hidden door whispering shut behind him. “Rule one of the curse: no take-backs.” His gaze dragged over me, lingering where the robe gaped at my chest. “Though I do like what I see.”
A flush burned up my neck. “This isn’t funny.”
“Oh, it’s hilarious.” He prowled closer, close enough that I caught my old cologne on his skin. “I was hoping you’d find the toys first.” His grin widened as my cheeks heated. “Oh, you did.”
I backed up until the vanity dug into my spine. “Why are you here?”
His grin turned wicked as he leaned in, close enough for his borrowed lips to brush my ear. "Because you will be my bride and help continue the line as per the second half of the curse."
A few years later
The pain was unbearable—a searing, primal fire tearing through me with every contraction. My nails dug into the hospital bed sheets, sweat gluing Emily’s—no, mine now—long black hair to my face.
"You’re doing amazing," he murmured, squeezing my hand. Even now, with my old face lined with worry, the way he tilted his head was pure Emily—that same confident smirk tempered by something softer. The silver band on his finger glinted under the harsh hospital lights, matching the one nestled securely against my own ring finger.
"Shut up," I gasped, arching off the bed as another wave hit. "This is your fault.*"
He just chuckled, brushing damp strands back from my forehead. "Our family now, sweetheart." His thumb traced my knuckles. "And trust me, when you hold her, you won’t regret a damn thing."
The nurse between my legs looked up, grinning. "One more push, Mom. She’s right there."
I barely had time to scream before the pressure shattered into sudden, dizzying relief. A fragile, furious wail filled the room, and then—
Her.
Tiny. Perfect. Swaddled in a pink blanket and placed carefully against my chest, her little face scrunched up in outrage. Dark lashes fluttered against petal-soft cheeks, her miniature fingers curling reflexively around mine.
"Congratulations," the nurse murmured. "She’s beautiful."
I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe. The weight of her was terrifying, intoxicating—mine.
"She has your nose," he whispered, bending to press a kiss to my temple. His—my old—calloused finger traced the baby’s shock of dark hair. "But your mother’s eyes." His voice cracked. "God, look at her."
The baby blinked up at us, her tiny mouth working silently before she settled with a sigh. The monitors beeped steadily, the world narrowing to this moment—this impossible, inevitable moment.
I leaned back against the pillows, exhausted, euphoric, and met my husband’s gaze.
"Worth it?" he teased, wiping a tear from my cheek with his thumb.
I clutched our daughter tighter—the next in the Lunawood line—and laughed through the tears.
Ben and Emma are teenagers who go to the same high school and have been next door neighbors since they were kids. But after drifting apart for a few years, can a body swapping app bring them back together? What does it mean for Emma's burgeoning with the school bully, Jake?
This story covers the first half of the commission, due to length. The second half will be written and published in the coming weeks seperately.
Ben moved slowly through the bustling halls of Lincoln High, his face buried in the latest issue of Lunar Phantom, a new manga series he'd recently gotten into. He was an ordinary high school boy of medium build, with glasses perched precariously on his nose, hair unruly in a fashion that spoke more of negligence than style. His anime-themed backpack was more an advertisement of his passions than a call to belong.
A sudden shout jolted him from his colorful world of dragons and mythical creatures. It was a voice he knew well. A voice that made his insides shrink and twist. Jake.
Jake towered over the crowd, a behemoth in a letterman jacket, rippling muscles hinted at beneath the cloth. His presence was as chilling as a harsh winter's breeze, causing the sea of students to part as he strode towards Ben, eyes gleaming with a harsh intensity that promised trouble.
"Hey, nerd," Jake sneered, swatting the manga from Ben's hands, sending it flying across the hallway. The bright panels of Lunar Phantom lay scattered on the floor, a stark contrast against the dull linoleum. The hallway fell silent, eyes darting from Ben to Jake and back, anticipation hanging in the air like a heavy cloud.
"Whoops” laughed Jake. “Looks like you dropped your comic book!” Jake smirked at him like it was the funniest thing ever.
Ben reached down to pick up the scattered pages, hands shaking, but Jake's boot descended onto the colorful paper, grinding it under his heel. The snickers of Jake's friends echo’d around them.
“Oi, Jake” a male voice said, gesturing.
Around the corner came a beautiful girl wearing a cheerleader's uniform, and Jake quickly abandoned his mockery. He straightened up, pushing Ben to the side, and strode towards Emma. Left alone in the wake of the bully's departure, Ben clenched his jaw, simmering in a mix of embarrassment and resentment.
Emma was laughing, her blonde hair bouncing as she gestured animatedly at something one of her friends said. A group had gathered around her, attracted by the radiant cheerleader who had a kind word for everyone.
"Hey, Emma," Jake called out, causing Emma to turn towards him. Her blue eyes widened in surprise before being replaced by a warm smile.
"Hey, Jake," she replied, her voice melodic. She adjusted the red and white pompoms in her hand as she greeted him. They must have just come from practice.
The sight of Jake and Emma laughing together caused a sour taste to rise in Ben's mouth. He watched as Jake threw his arm casually over Emma's shoulder, making her giggle. Every smile she flashed at Jake was a jab at Ben's pride.
"Hey, so I was thinking," Jake began, his voice slipping into a softer tone as he leaned in closer to Emma. "Hell-o-saurus is coming out on Thursday. Thought maybe we could check it out together?"
Emma looked surprised for a moment, a blush creeping up her cheeks. "Sure,," she replied, "I'd like that."
Ben clenched his fist. Of all the things… He watched as Jake gave Emma a triumphant grin and squeezed her shoulder lightly before he pushed off the lockers and ambled away, leaving a starstruck Emma behind.
Ben waited for a moment, the taste of his own defeat still bitter on his tongue. Finally, gathering his scattered manga and the remaining shreds of his pride, he approached Emma.
"What's so great about him?" Ben grumbled, giving voice to the annoyance he'd been nursing.
Emma jumped, startled. "Oh, Ben!" she said, her surprise quickly replaced by a soft smile. "I didn't see you there."
Ben scowled, his eyes following the figure of the retreating bully. "What do you even see in him?"
Emma shrugged, her smile fading slightly. "Ah, I don’t know. He's... nice, you know?" she replied, struggling to articulate her thoughts. "Confident, protective. He knows what he wants, you know? But isn’t pushy or desperate to get it."
"Yeah, nice," Ben muttered, his words dripping with sarcasm. “And not pushy…” he rubbed his shoulder where Ben had literally pushed him against the lockers. He stared at Emma, part of him wondering what it would be like to be her. How differently people treated them just because of their appearance. If he was her… well, he’d be able to dump Jake at least.
He smirked as he imagined Jake’s face, Emma’s body telling him exactly what Ben wanted.
“Anyway, it was nice to see you, Ben” Emma said as she turned back to her cheerleader friends. They quickly got to gossiping about the upcoming date, leaving Ben totally ignored and alone.
___________________________
Later that evening, Ben sat hunched over his laptop, the soft glow of the screen the only illumination. He’d been clicking around, bored and uninspired, when he came across a forum talking about body swapping. And talking about it way more seriously then he’d seen before. A role play group?
“NewYou is wild” read the opening post of a thread that caught Ben's attention. A few quick clicks later, he was deep into the thread, engrossed in the accounts shared by the anonymous users, all apparently claiming to have swapped bodies.
“Experienced NewYou for the first time last week with my gym buddy. It was hilarious and weird. Flexing muscles I didn't even know existed and tasting food for the first time without my nut allergy was something else. Having to bench press twice my original weight was cool.”
“Okay, so I swapped with my younger sis, thought it would be a piece of cake. Boy, it was weird. I lost about a foot of height, and everybody treated me real different. She was massively embarrassing in my body too. Bleh! On the upside, I aced a history test for her, so I think she owes me for that.”
“You're gonna think I'm crazy, but I swapped with my cat because my friend Stace dared me to on a sleepover. BAD IDEA! As soon as we swapped, the cat in my old body went kinda crazy. She swiped at me, and do you KNOW how weird it is to get hit by your own hand!?! Stace had to hold her down for us to swap back. 7/5 with rice LOL!”
Thread after thread, post after post, the users' casual discussions about swapping bodies sent Ben's heart racing. They described the shock of waking up in a new body, the strange feeling of looking into a mirror and seeing someone else's face, the sheer thrill of walking in someone else's shoes. Literally!
He had to get in on this.
It turned out downloading the app wasn’t too difficult. You needed to put your phone into developer mode and hook it up to a computer, but essentially you could just download the software from the website and run it. Both people needed to do it on separate phones though, and both needed to agree to swap. That was the tricky part - Ben didn’t know who might want to swap with him of all people.
Unless…
"Emma," Ben mumbled to himself, the idea no longer an impossibility. It was as if the universe was answering his prayers. His mind raced with potential scenarios, all the things he could do. He could finally show Emma the real Jake, he could experience what it was like to be popular, and who knew, maybe he'd enjoy cheerleading. She was always pretty open to trying new things… who knows, maybe she’d do it as a favor?
Taking a deep breath, he grabbed his jacket and bolted out of his house. The evening air was cool against his face, and the usually short journey to Emma's house felt like it took ages. He stood in front of her white picket fence, swallowed his nervousness, and walked up to the front door.
He rapped on the door lightly, his heart pounding in his chest. Emma’s mom answered the door, and with a surprised smile, she let him in. Emma's house had always been a home away from home for Ben when they were younger. The familiar smells and sounds brought back a wave of nostalgia.
Ben found Emma in her room, sitting on her bed, her cheerleader uniform discarded in favor of comfy pajamas. Her room was filled with cheerleading trophies, pop posters, and make-up scattered across her dressing table.
“Oh! Hey, Ben!” Emma exclaimed, surprised but clearly pleased. “What are you doing here?”
He took a deep breath. "I wanted to talk to you about something."
"Oh, what is it?" Emma asked, sitting up straight, her face filled with curiosity.
"Do you ever wish you could be someone else? Even if it was just for a day?"
She looked at him quizzically, her head tilted to one side. "Um, no, not really. I mean I’ve been curious about–” she stopped talking, “Why are you asking?"
Ben took out his phone, showing her the NewYou app he had just downloaded.
"Because," he said, his heart pounding in his chest, "I think we can."
Emma looked at the screen of Ben's phone, frowning slightly. "NewYou? Is this some sort of game?"
"No, it's not a game," Ben said, shaking his head. "It's an app. It lets two people swap bodies."
He held his breath, waiting for Emma's reaction. She stared at the screen for a moment longer before bursting into laughter. "That's ridiculous! There's no way such a thing is real. You can't seriously believe this, Ben."
Ben didn't waver, didn't retract his statement. He had expected her to be skeptical. "I know it sounds crazy, but I think it's worth a try. Think about it, Emma. What if you could see the world from a different perspective? Wouldn't you like to experience what it's like to be someone else?"
Emma stopped laughing, considering his words. She looked at him, her blue eyes searching his face. "You're serious about this, aren't you?"
He nodded, keeping his gaze steady on hers. "I am."
A thoughtful silence filled the room as Emma took in his words. Ben could see the gears turning in her head. He knew her well enough to know that she was considering it. Emma was always up for a challenge, always ready to try new things. That was one of the things he admired about her.
Finally, she sighed, shaking her head in disbelief. "Okay, let's say I believe you. And let's say I'm willing to give this a shot. Why would you want to swap bodies with me?"
Ben considered his words carefully. "To see the world differently. You’re popular, you’re cool, people look up to you, and you’re, you know…” he gestured at her.
She giggled. “Hot?”
“I was going to say ‘a girl’, but yeah, that too.”
She punched him on the arm. “Alright Cinderella! You better not ruin this view when I get back to it!” She looked down at herself, stretching her arms out.
Ben exhaled, relief washing over him. He grinned at Emma, excitement buzzing in his veins.
Emma downloaded the app on her phone, following Ben's instructions, then they both opened it and Ben initiated the request to swap. Emma accepted it with a quick tap on her screen.
Their screens flickered for a moment.
“I don’t think anything happened.” said Emma, unsurprised. “God you almost had me going there!”
“No, no, wait” said Ben. “I can feel something.”
His hands and feet had begun tingling, and his stomach felt like it was dropping. Down. Away.
Ben blinked and found himself sitting on the other side of the room.
His phone buzzed. “Swap successful. Enjoy your NewYou!"
Ben gasped and looked down at his hands. Delicate fingers, manicured nails instead of his usual large and bony hands.
"Oh my god," Ben whispered, looking up at Emma. His voice was higher, softer. Emma's voice. His heart raced as he reached up to touch his - no, her - face, feeling the smooth skin beneath his fingers.
He looked at Emma, who seemed to be going through a similar realization. Her eyes were wide, her mouth agape as she looked down at her - his - hands.
"Ben," she said, her voice lower, rougher. Ben's voice. "I think it worked."
Ben could only nod, his mind racing with the possibilities. They had done it. They had swapped bodies! And… easily! How was this not in every media outlet? How was this not all over the internet?!
Still clutching the phone in his dainty hands, Ben stood up, surprised by the effort it took. He looked down. The ground seemed closer than normal, as if he wasn’t standing up at all. He gingerly touched the soft fabric of the sweater he was wearing, and the gentle curve of the waist beneath it. He felt light, free, different. He very deliberately didn’t touch the breasts that were now hanging on his chest, not when their former owner was standing just a few feet away, though he felt them jiggle as he moved.
Emma, standing awkwardly in Ben’s body, snorted. “This is so weird,” she grumbled, adjusting the baggy jeans. She tried to cross her arms, a habit of hers, but found the movement unfamiliar and slightly awkward.
Then, she turned to look at her own body, now occupied by Ben. She raised a hand and brushed her own hair out of her former eyes.
Seeing her own face from an outsider's perspective was strange, almost surreal. She frowned as she gently tracing the contours of the face she knew so well, yet was now so alien. The long lashes, the soft lips, the small mole on the left cheek - everything was the same and yet, so very different.
"Wow," she breathed out, her voice deep and rough. "I didn't realize... I mean, you're… I'm… pretty."
Ben blushed, a pink hue appearing on his - no, her - fair cheeks. It was a strange sensation. His skin tingling, heart pounding in a chest that was no longer his.
“Yeah, you… I mean, I…” Ben stammered, flustered and unsure how to respond to that. “This is a lot to take in.”
There was a pause as the reality of their situation sunk in. They had swapped bodies, an impossible event made reality by an obscure app and a moment of daring curiosity.
"Let's just... take it slow, okay?" Emma finally broke the silence. She gestured to a mirror on the wall. "Maybe we should start with getting used to our new appearances."
And so they did. They stood in front of the mirror, marveling at the reflection that looked back at them. There was Ben, there was Emma. But the reflection of Ben wasn’t where it should be – it was two feet to the left of where it should be! Weird.
Just as they were starting to make peace with their reflections, a knock echoed through the room, followed by a muffled voice. "Emma, honey, dinner's ready."
Emma's - or rather, Ben's - eyes widened. He quickly turned to look at Emma, panic flickering in his gaze. She seemed calmer. “Well, you wanted to experience being me!”
"I know," he said, trying to steady his racing heart. "I have to go. I can do this. I can pretend to be you for one evening."
Emma was silent for a moment, her lips pressed into a thin line as she considered his words. "Just... be careful, okay?" she finally said, her tone serious. "And text me if anything happens."
Ben nodded, giving her a small, assuring smile. Then, with a last look at the mirror, he left the room, his new ponytail bouncing with each step he took.
Dinner was a rollercoaster of emotions for Ben. Emma's parents were lovely people, he found, even if her younger brother was quite the pest. He did his best to act like Emma, mimicking her speech patterns and mannerisms. He laughed at her father's puns and helped her mother serve the salad. It was going well until dessert.
As he was reaching for a piece of pie, his sleeve snagged the bowl of cream, sending it splattering all over himself and the tablecloth. A gasp ran through the room, and Ben felt his cheeks heat up in embarrassment.
"Oh, Emma!" her mother exclaimed, rushing to wipe the mess with a napkin. "That's not like you at all."
Ben blushed and apologized.
“I guess you better go have a shower and clean up. Don’t worry about it down here.”
Oh.
Oh no.
_______________________
Meanwhile, back at Ben's place, Emma was trying to navigate Ben's life. His parents were nice enough, though they asked a lot of questions about school and her - Ben's - future. She smiled and nodded, providing vague answers when she could. She even played a round of video games with Ben's 13 year old sister. It was a novelty for Emma, who had never been much of a gamer. But, it was nice, she thought. Different, but nice.
They were loading a new level when her phone buzzed. A message from ‘Emma’.
“Hey, so, um, I spilled some pie all over you.”
For some reason Ben had also sent a picture. It was an angled selfie, showed Emma’s body standing alone in her room, barefoot, clothes askew, and still covered in pie
“Should I- change and shower?”
Emma paused. Obviously? She wasn’t sure when he expected, if they were going to be each other for a few days. Was he never going to use the toilet too?
She texted back a “Yes, of course. Don’t wet my hair.” and got back to the game.
_____________________
As the first tendrils of sunlight began to stretch across the sky, Ben, in Emma's lithe frame, and Emma, housed within Ben's gangly body, stood side by side at the bus stop. The air was crisp, carrying the faint smell of dew-soaked grass.
They stood in silence, each immersed in the thoughts of their extraordinary circumstance.
"Your brother is quite the early bird, isn't he?" Ben finally broke the silence, his voice soft with Emma's familiar lilt. He was fiddling with a thread on Emma's pink scarf, not meeting her gaze. “He woke me up by diving on top of me at six in the morning.”
Emma giggled, the sound strange in the deeper resonance of Ben's voice. "Yeah, he'll do that. Any trouble after the pie incident?"
Ben blushed. “I swear I didn’t look at anything I shouldn’t have!”
Emma giggled again. “Well you better have cleaned everything you should have! I certainly enjoyed not having to sit down to pee this morning.”
“You mean you’ve seen-”
“What did you expect, you dolt! I’m inside your body!” Emma spread her arms wide, as if showing him who she was.
“It gets bigger…” Ben muttered
“Oh, I know”
“Wait- what–”
Their casual conversation was interrupted by the arrival of their school bus. The familiar yellow behemoth lumbered into view, its tires crunching on the gravel. They climbed aboard, momentarily parting ways to their respective seats.
No sooner had they settled down than a chorus of high-pitched squeals rang through the bus. A gaggle of Emma's friends, a vibrant assortment of high school girls, were waving energetically at Ben.
"Emma! Get over here!" they called out voices bubbling with enthusiasm.
Ben shot Emma a puzzled look, to which she responded with a smirk. "Go on. It will be good for you."
With a sigh that was equal parts resignation and nervous excitement, Ben rose and joined Emma's friends. Their conversation was a whirlwind of girlish chatter, an onslaught of cheerleading stories, crush confessions, and fashion advice. Soon, one of the girls produced a top from a bags, a beautiful, silky number that made Ben's new heart flutter.
"This would look SO good on you, Emma!" one of them gushed, holding the top up against Ben's body. "The color would really bring out your eyes!"
Feeling a warm blush creep up his cheeks, Ben nodded and thanked them, feeling an odd pang of guilt for the deceit. He was not Emma, and yet, he was playing her part, basking in her social glow. A small part of him felt like a fraud. Plus the shirt was… rather revealing. It would show off his cleavage and belly button at once. He tried to turn his head to see what Emma thought, but he couldn’t get a good look.
“I wanted to give it to you for your date with Jake” the girl continued, unabated. “He’s got a thing for midriffs, Jess told me that when she was dating him, he…”
From the back of the bus, Emma was watching the entire spectacle unfold. An unfamiliar twinge of jealousy gnawed at her as she saw Ben - or rather, her body - being swept away into the mirthful chatter of her friends. She was left there, alone, in Ben's body, a spectator in her own life.
But amidst that feeling, there was also a sense of intrigue. Observing Ben navigate the complexities of her social life was enlightening, to say the least. He wasn’t being especially suave, but her friends seemed so understanding and patient with him- her- she should really appreciate them more. An off day? Nobody was batting an eye.
As the bus pulled up at the school, Ben was swept away with Emma’s friends, while Emma followed slowly behind, left alone by everyone. Ben was just beginning to get comfortable with their cheerful chatter when a friend, Amanda, suddenly leaned in and squinted at Ben's face.
"Oh my god, Emma!" Amanda gasped, covering her mouth with one hand. "What happened to your makeup? It looks like a two-year-old attacked your face with crayons."
The group of girls burst into laughter, their high-pitched giggles echoing around the bus. Ben felt heat rushing to his cheeks. He’d tried his hand at a bit of powder that morning, but he didn’t think it was that bad. He looked at Emma, who gave him an empathetic shrug. The world of makeup was a mystery to Ben, a chapter in the book of femininity he had never even flipped through.
"Well, we can't let you go around looking like that," Amanda declared, standing up. She took Ben's hand and started pulling him towards the bathroom. "We need to fix this, now."
As Amanda began to work on Ben's face, he watched his reflection in the mirror. It was surreal, seeing Amanda's hands move across his face, feeling the soft brush against his skin, but not recognizing the face that stared back at him. It was a face he was familiar with - Emma's face - but it was also a stranger's.
"Trust me, you'll look so much better after this," Amanda chatted away, her voice a comforting hum in the background. Ben listened to her and the other girls as they talked about the latest school gossip, their plans for the weekend, the new teacher everyone was crushing on.
The chatter was mundane, the kind of stuff Ben usually tuned out, but in this setting, it felt oddly intimate. He felt like he was getting a peek into a secret world, a glimpse into the life Emma led when he wasn't around.
Eventually, Amanda stepped back, her work done. Ben looked at himself in the mirror. His eyes were subtly lined, his cheeks flushed with a rosy blush, his lips a soft pink. He looked like Emma. And, strangely enough, he felt like Emma too.
"There," Amanda said, beaming at him. "Much better."
Ben blinked at his reflection, a smile slowly creeping onto his face. This was definitely going to take some getting used to. But for now, he was just Emma, living her life, one makeup touch-up at a time.
_______________________
Emma, inside Ben's body, could not escape the sensation of strangeness that filled her every step. Even the simple act of walking was different, the additional height and strength both a wonder and a challenge. She found herself bumping into things more often, her perception of her body's dimensions no longer accurate.
The bell for gym class rang just as she was getting a hang of her new stride. She watched as Ben was dragged off into the women’s change room by her classmates, and she sighed and headed into the boys. It was loud and smelly, but she was able to change undisturbed, her new bony fingers fumbling over the unfamiliar fabric of Ben's gym kit.
Basketball was the chosen game of the day, a game Emma had always played, but never particularly excelled at. She was too short to really have much of a chance. But as she stepped onto the court in Ben's body, she felt a surge of energy she had never experienced before. Her fingers closed around the leather ball with a certainty that surprised her. She could even hold the ball in one hand!
The first few minutes of the game were a chaos of movement. Emma watched her classmates as they moved across the court, noting their strategies, the ways they used their bodies to block or pass. Her own body responded in ways she wasn't expecting. It was taller, faster, stronger. Who knew that Ben’s body contained such power?
To her amazement, she found herself actually enjoying the game. She could shoot, pass and defend with ease. Her body moved with a fluidity she had never known, each move instinctive, as though she had been playing this way for years. The ball seemed to follow her command, the hoop an easy target.
As the game continued, Emma became more and more confident. She dodged her opponents, her new height providing her with an advantage she had never had before. She was making shots that she would have only dreamed of making in her own body.
She looked at the scoreboard. Her team was in the lead, and she had been a significant contributor. Her eyes met Ben's - or rather her own - standing on the sidelines, and she saw a look of surprise. Emma smiled, a small sense of pride washing over her.
When the final whistle blew, her team had won, and she found herself surrounded by her cheering classmates, guys slapping on the back, rustling her hair, making her feel proud! They would never do that to her in her own body! It was like all of the distance that she usually felt between herself and guys had disappeared, there was no awkwardness in the touching, no creepiness in the looks. They just slapped her on the back and cheered.
Emma realized then, under the bright lights of the gym, that she was living a day in Ben's shoes that she would never have experienced in her own body. For the first time, she felt a strange sense of gratitude towards the body swap. It wasn't all bad, after all.
__________________
Meanwhile, Ben had been navigating through the labyrinth of Emma's school day, filled with its own unique challenges. There was an increased attention to detail, an amplified sensitivity to social cues, an intricate dance of interactions that he was not familiar with.
When it was time for gym class, something that Ben had always dreaded, he found himself lucky enough to be on the sidelines, designated as one of the scorekeepers.
As the game started, his attention was drawn to his own body on the basketball court. Emma actually seemed to be enjoying herself! And not just enjoying herself, she was good! He watched in awe as she swiped the ball from an opposing player with a quickness he didn’t know his body was capable of, and then sprinted down the court before passing the ball hard and fast to a teammate who scored.
She was good, better than good. In his body, Emma was making shots that neither of them could have done in their own forms. What gives! She was moving with a confidence, a certain ease that was strangely mesmerizing.
He found himself clapping along with the others, cheering each time she scored a point. It was surreal, watching his own body perform so well under someone else's control. At the same time, he felt a kind of jealousy. How come he couldn’t play like that? A team mate whooped as Emma scored again, and high fived his old body as they ran up the court together. Ben didn’t even know that guy’s name. Why couldn’t he be popular like that?
As the final whistle blew, he watched as Emma's team celebrated their victory, watched as his own body was surrounded by cheering classmates, hugged and slapped and lifted up in the air. Ben clapped quietly, feeling strange, but when Emma jogged passed, she beamed at him, and he couldn’t help but smile.
He followed Emma’s friends back into the girls’ change room, and couldn’t help but chuckle as they chatted about “Ben's” newfound skills. One of them even wondered if he was single!
What the hell was going on?
______________________________________
The lunchroom was buzzing with activity as Ben took a seat at Emma's usual spot, surrounded by her friends. He got a salad. That’s the kind of thing Emma usually ate, right?
He found himself laughing and giggling with the other girls. Something inside him had relaxed a bit and he was having fun exaggerating his body’s exploits with them.
“Oh yeah” Ben said, “And his arms are super muscular!”
One of the girls laughed. “Oh shove off it, Emma! Now you’re just being silly!”
“But speaking of big arms…” another girl said with a grin.
Ben looked up, expecting to see Emma in his body. Instead, he was confronted by Jake, a smug, condescending grin on his face.
"Hey Emma," Jake greeted, seeming to dazzle everyone else at the table. "Looking gorgeous today, as usual."
Ben blushed. This was so weird.
“Uh…”
“So, I was thinking after our date on Thursday we could head up to the river. My Dad said I could borrow his BMW for the night. What do you reckon?”
Ewwwww god no! Ben was in no place to be thinking about that. He’d only been a girl for 12 hours or so!
“Uh, no, no thank you.”
“Huh? Why not?”
Ben looked down at himself. His lithe body, bare legs, perfect skin. Fuck Jake, he didn’t need to justify himself. The whole point of becoming Emma was so that he could feel what it was like to be socially powerful, daring, bold! And… he could do whatever he wanted!
“Because.. you’re a brainless moron.” he said, a slight smirk coming onto his face. Emma’s face! He was doing it! Emma was dumping Jake!
Jake’s mouth opened slightly, and he frowned, more confused than upset.
“Yeah, that’s right. You’re a bully. You’re mean. You’re an ugly, flat footed, stupid, neanderthal, um… dumb… just awful person!”
“What? But I thought-”
“And everybody hates you.” he added, just for good measure.
Jake clenched his jaw.
“So fuck off, actually, yeah fuck off back to whatever sewer you crawled out of. I never want to see you again!”
Ben smirked. That felt good.
Jake's face paled, shock evident in his blue eyes. There was an agonizingly long pause as the words hung in the air, the cafeteria around them a blur of stares and whispers.
With that, he turned and stormed out of the room, leaving Ben at the center of attention at the table, the girls still wide-eyed and silent.
Ben’s smug grin faded as he looked around the table, seeing the shock on the faces of Emma's friends. Surely it wasn’t that bad? Jake was an awful human. Emma would get over it. Besides, it was in her best interests not to end up with somebody like that.
These thoughts did little to help stop the sinking feeling in Ben’s stomach as he saw Emma gaping at him from across the room. She started to storm over to him, then stopped, seeming to change her mind, and scampered out of the room after Jake, tears in her eyes.
Ah.
Yes.
That was kind of mean. Just not to Jake.
To Be Continued.
This story covers the first half of the commission, due to length. The second half will be written and published in the coming weeks seperately.
Ben moved slowly through the bustling halls of Lincoln High, his face buried in the latest issue of Lunar Phantom, a new manga series he'd recently gotten into. He was an ordinary high school boy of medium build, with glasses perched precariously on his nose, hair unruly in a fashion that spoke more of negligence than style. His anime-themed backpack was more an advertisement of his passions than a call to belong.
A sudden shout jolted him from his colorful world of dragons and mythical creatures. It was a voice he knew well. A voice that made his insides shrink and twist. Jake.
Jake towered over the crowd, a behemoth in a letterman jacket, rippling muscles hinted at beneath the cloth. His presence was as chilling as a harsh winter's breeze, causing the sea of students to part as he strode towards Ben, eyes gleaming with a harsh intensity that promised trouble.
"Hey, nerd," Jake sneered, swatting the manga from Ben's hands, sending it flying across the hallway. The bright panels of Lunar Phantom lay scattered on the floor, a stark contrast against the dull linoleum. The hallway fell silent, eyes darting from Ben to Jake and back, anticipation hanging in the air like a heavy cloud.
"Whoops” laughed Jake. “Looks like you dropped your comic book!” Jake smirked at him like it was the funniest thing ever.
Ben reached down to pick up the scattered pages, hands shaking, but Jake's boot descended onto the colorful paper, grinding it under his heel. The snickers of Jake's friends echo’d around them.
“Oi, Jake” a male voice said, gesturing.
Around the corner came a beautiful girl wearing a cheerleader's uniform, and Jake quickly abandoned his mockery. He straightened up, pushing Ben to the side, and strode towards Emma. Left alone in the wake of the bully's departure, Ben clenched his jaw, simmering in a mix of embarrassment and resentment.
Emma was laughing, her blonde hair bouncing as she gestured animatedly at something one of her friends said. A group had gathered around her, attracted by the radiant cheerleader who had a kind word for everyone.
"Hey, Emma," Jake called out, causing Emma to turn towards him. Her blue eyes widened in surprise before being replaced by a warm smile.
"Hey, Jake," she replied, her voice melodic. She adjusted the red and white pompoms in her hand as she greeted him. They must have just come from practice.
The sight of Jake and Emma laughing together caused a sour taste to rise in Ben's mouth. He watched as Jake threw his arm casually over Emma's shoulder, making her giggle. Every smile she flashed at Jake was a jab at Ben's pride.
"Hey, so I was thinking," Jake began, his voice slipping into a softer tone as he leaned in closer to Emma. "Hell-o-saurus is coming out on Thursday. Thought maybe we could check it out together?"
Emma looked surprised for a moment, a blush creeping up her cheeks. "Sure,," she replied, "I'd like that."
Ben clenched his fist. Of all the things… He watched as Jake gave Emma a triumphant grin and squeezed her shoulder lightly before he pushed off the lockers and ambled away, leaving a starstruck Emma behind.
Ben waited for a moment, the taste of his own defeat still bitter on his tongue. Finally, gathering his scattered manga and the remaining shreds of his pride, he approached Emma.
"What's so great about him?" Ben grumbled, giving voice to the annoyance he'd been nursing.
Emma jumped, startled. "Oh, Ben!" she said, her surprise quickly replaced by a soft smile. "I didn't see you there."
Ben scowled, his eyes following the figure of the retreating bully. "What do you even see in him?"
Emma shrugged, her smile fading slightly. "Ah, I don’t know. He's... nice, you know?" she replied, struggling to articulate her thoughts. "Confident, protective. He knows what he wants, you know? But isn’t pushy or desperate to get it."
"Yeah, nice," Ben muttered, his words dripping with sarcasm. “And not pushy…” he rubbed his shoulder where Ben had literally pushed him against the lockers. He stared at Emma, part of him wondering what it would be like to be her. How differently people treated them just because of their appearance. If he was her… well, he’d be able to dump Jake at least.
He smirked as he imagined Jake’s face, Emma’s body telling him exactly what Ben wanted.
“Anyway, it was nice to see you, Ben” Emma said as she turned back to her cheerleader friends. They quickly got to gossiping about the upcoming date, leaving Ben totally ignored and alone.
___________________________
Later that evening, Ben sat hunched over his laptop, the soft glow of the screen the only illumination. He’d been clicking around, bored and uninspired, when he came across a forum talking about body swapping. And talking about it way more seriously then he’d seen before. A role play group?
“NewYou is wild” read the opening post of a thread that caught Ben's attention. A few quick clicks later, he was deep into the thread, engrossed in the accounts shared by the anonymous users, all apparently claiming to have swapped bodies.
“Experienced NewYou for the first time last week with my gym buddy. It was hilarious and weird. Flexing muscles I didn't even know existed and tasting food for the first time without my nut allergy was something else. Having to bench press twice my original weight was cool.”
“Okay, so I swapped with my younger sis, thought it would be a piece of cake. Boy, it was weird. I lost about a foot of height, and everybody treated me real different. She was massively embarrassing in my body too. Bleh! On the upside, I aced a history test for her, so I think she owes me for that.”
“You're gonna think I'm crazy, but I swapped with my cat because my friend Stace dared me to on a sleepover. BAD IDEA! As soon as we swapped, the cat in my old body went kinda crazy. She swiped at me, and do you KNOW how weird it is to get hit by your own hand!?! Stace had to hold her down for us to swap back. 7/5 with rice LOL!”
Thread after thread, post after post, the users' casual discussions about swapping bodies sent Ben's heart racing. They described the shock of waking up in a new body, the strange feeling of looking into a mirror and seeing someone else's face, the sheer thrill of walking in someone else's shoes. Literally!
He had to get in on this.
It turned out downloading the app wasn’t too difficult. You needed to put your phone into developer mode and hook it up to a computer, but essentially you could just download the software from the website and run it. Both people needed to do it on separate phones though, and both needed to agree to swap. That was the tricky part - Ben didn’t know who might want to swap with him of all people.
Unless…
"Emma," Ben mumbled to himself, the idea no longer an impossibility. It was as if the universe was answering his prayers. His mind raced with potential scenarios, all the things he could do. He could finally show Emma the real Jake, he could experience what it was like to be popular, and who knew, maybe he'd enjoy cheerleading. She was always pretty open to trying new things… who knows, maybe she’d do it as a favor?
Taking a deep breath, he grabbed his jacket and bolted out of his house. The evening air was cool against his face, and the usually short journey to Emma's house felt like it took ages. He stood in front of her white picket fence, swallowed his nervousness, and walked up to the front door.
He rapped on the door lightly, his heart pounding in his chest. Emma’s mom answered the door, and with a surprised smile, she let him in. Emma's house had always been a home away from home for Ben when they were younger. The familiar smells and sounds brought back a wave of nostalgia.
Ben found Emma in her room, sitting on her bed, her cheerleader uniform discarded in favor of comfy pajamas. Her room was filled with cheerleading trophies, pop posters, and make-up scattered across her dressing table.
“Oh! Hey, Ben!” Emma exclaimed, surprised but clearly pleased. “What are you doing here?”
He took a deep breath. "I wanted to talk to you about something."
"Oh, what is it?" Emma asked, sitting up straight, her face filled with curiosity.
"Do you ever wish you could be someone else? Even if it was just for a day?"
She looked at him quizzically, her head tilted to one side. "Um, no, not really. I mean I’ve been curious about–” she stopped talking, “Why are you asking?"
Ben took out his phone, showing her the NewYou app he had just downloaded.
"Because," he said, his heart pounding in his chest, "I think we can."
Emma looked at the screen of Ben's phone, frowning slightly. "NewYou? Is this some sort of game?"
"No, it's not a game," Ben said, shaking his head. "It's an app. It lets two people swap bodies."
He held his breath, waiting for Emma's reaction. She stared at the screen for a moment longer before bursting into laughter. "That's ridiculous! There's no way such a thing is real. You can't seriously believe this, Ben."
Ben didn't waver, didn't retract his statement. He had expected her to be skeptical. "I know it sounds crazy, but I think it's worth a try. Think about it, Emma. What if you could see the world from a different perspective? Wouldn't you like to experience what it's like to be someone else?"
Emma stopped laughing, considering his words. She looked at him, her blue eyes searching his face. "You're serious about this, aren't you?"
He nodded, keeping his gaze steady on hers. "I am."
A thoughtful silence filled the room as Emma took in his words. Ben could see the gears turning in her head. He knew her well enough to know that she was considering it. Emma was always up for a challenge, always ready to try new things. That was one of the things he admired about her.
Finally, she sighed, shaking her head in disbelief. "Okay, let's say I believe you. And let's say I'm willing to give this a shot. Why would you want to swap bodies with me?"
Ben considered his words carefully. "To see the world differently. You’re popular, you’re cool, people look up to you, and you’re, you know…” he gestured at her.
She giggled. “Hot?”
“I was going to say ‘a girl’, but yeah, that too.”
She punched him on the arm. “Alright Cinderella! You better not ruin this view when I get back to it!” She looked down at herself, stretching her arms out.
Ben exhaled, relief washing over him. He grinned at Emma, excitement buzzing in his veins.
Emma downloaded the app on her phone, following Ben's instructions, then they both opened it and Ben initiated the request to swap. Emma accepted it with a quick tap on her screen.
Their screens flickered for a moment.
“I don’t think anything happened.” said Emma, unsurprised. “God you almost had me going there!”
“No, no, wait” said Ben. “I can feel something.”
His hands and feet had begun tingling, and his stomach felt like it was dropping. Down. Away.
Ben blinked and found himself sitting on the other side of the room.
His phone buzzed. “Swap successful. Enjoy your NewYou!"
Ben gasped and looked down at his hands. Delicate fingers, manicured nails instead of his usual large and bony hands.
"Oh my god," Ben whispered, looking up at Emma. His voice was higher, softer. Emma's voice. His heart raced as he reached up to touch his - no, her - face, feeling the smooth skin beneath his fingers.
He looked at Emma, who seemed to be going through a similar realization. Her eyes were wide, her mouth agape as she looked down at her - his - hands.
"Ben," she said, her voice lower, rougher. Ben's voice. "I think it worked."
Ben could only nod, his mind racing with the possibilities. They had done it. They had swapped bodies! And… easily! How was this not in every media outlet? How was this not all over the internet?!
Still clutching the phone in his dainty hands, Ben stood up, surprised by the effort it took. He looked down. The ground seemed closer than normal, as if he wasn’t standing up at all. He gingerly touched the soft fabric of the sweater he was wearing, and the gentle curve of the waist beneath it. He felt light, free, different. He very deliberately didn’t touch the breasts that were now hanging on his chest, not when their former owner was standing just a few feet away, though he felt them jiggle as he moved.
Emma, standing awkwardly in Ben’s body, snorted. “This is so weird,” she grumbled, adjusting the baggy jeans. She tried to cross her arms, a habit of hers, but found the movement unfamiliar and slightly awkward.
Then, she turned to look at her own body, now occupied by Ben. She raised a hand and brushed her own hair out of her former eyes.
Seeing her own face from an outsider's perspective was strange, almost surreal. She frowned as she gently tracing the contours of the face she knew so well, yet was now so alien. The long lashes, the soft lips, the small mole on the left cheek - everything was the same and yet, so very different.
"Wow," she breathed out, her voice deep and rough. "I didn't realize... I mean, you're… I'm… pretty."
Ben blushed, a pink hue appearing on his - no, her - fair cheeks. It was a strange sensation. His skin tingling, heart pounding in a chest that was no longer his.
“Yeah, you… I mean, I…” Ben stammered, flustered and unsure how to respond to that. “This is a lot to take in.”
There was a pause as the reality of their situation sunk in. They had swapped bodies, an impossible event made reality by an obscure app and a moment of daring curiosity.
"Let's just... take it slow, okay?" Emma finally broke the silence. She gestured to a mirror on the wall. "Maybe we should start with getting used to our new appearances."
And so they did. They stood in front of the mirror, marveling at the reflection that looked back at them. There was Ben, there was Emma. But the reflection of Ben wasn’t where it should be – it was two feet to the left of where it should be! Weird.
Just as they were starting to make peace with their reflections, a knock echoed through the room, followed by a muffled voice. "Emma, honey, dinner's ready."
Emma's - or rather, Ben's - eyes widened. He quickly turned to look at Emma, panic flickering in his gaze. She seemed calmer. “Well, you wanted to experience being me!”
"I know," he said, trying to steady his racing heart. "I have to go. I can do this. I can pretend to be you for one evening."
Emma was silent for a moment, her lips pressed into a thin line as she considered his words. "Just... be careful, okay?" she finally said, her tone serious. "And text me if anything happens."
Ben nodded, giving her a small, assuring smile. Then, with a last look at the mirror, he left the room, his new ponytail bouncing with each step he took.
Dinner was a rollercoaster of emotions for Ben. Emma's parents were lovely people, he found, even if her younger brother was quite the pest. He did his best to act like Emma, mimicking her speech patterns and mannerisms. He laughed at her father's puns and helped her mother serve the salad. It was going well until dessert.
As he was reaching for a piece of pie, his sleeve snagged the bowl of cream, sending it splattering all over himself and the tablecloth. A gasp ran through the room, and Ben felt his cheeks heat up in embarrassment.
"Oh, Emma!" her mother exclaimed, rushing to wipe the mess with a napkin. "That's not like you at all."
Ben blushed and apologized.
“I guess you better go have a shower and clean up. Don’t worry about it down here.”
Oh.
Oh no.
_______________________
Meanwhile, back at Ben's place, Emma was trying to navigate Ben's life. His parents were nice enough, though they asked a lot of questions about school and her - Ben's - future. She smiled and nodded, providing vague answers when she could. She even played a round of video games with Ben's 13 year old sister. It was a novelty for Emma, who had never been much of a gamer. But, it was nice, she thought. Different, but nice.
They were loading a new level when her phone buzzed. A message from ‘Emma’.
“Hey, so, um, I spilled some pie all over you.”
For some reason Ben had also sent a picture. It was an angled selfie, showed Emma’s body standing alone in her room, barefoot, clothes askew, and still covered in pie
“Should I- change and shower?”
Emma paused. Obviously? She wasn’t sure when he expected, if they were going to be each other for a few days. Was he never going to use the toilet too?
She texted back a “Yes, of course. Don’t wet my hair.” and got back to the game.
_____________________
As the first tendrils of sunlight began to stretch across the sky, Ben, in Emma's lithe frame, and Emma, housed within Ben's gangly body, stood side by side at the bus stop. The air was crisp, carrying the faint smell of dew-soaked grass.
They stood in silence, each immersed in the thoughts of their extraordinary circumstance.
"Your brother is quite the early bird, isn't he?" Ben finally broke the silence, his voice soft with Emma's familiar lilt. He was fiddling with a thread on Emma's pink scarf, not meeting her gaze. “He woke me up by diving on top of me at six in the morning.”
Emma giggled, the sound strange in the deeper resonance of Ben's voice. "Yeah, he'll do that. Any trouble after the pie incident?"
Ben blushed. “I swear I didn’t look at anything I shouldn’t have!”
Emma giggled again. “Well you better have cleaned everything you should have! I certainly enjoyed not having to sit down to pee this morning.”
“You mean you’ve seen-”
“What did you expect, you dolt! I’m inside your body!” Emma spread her arms wide, as if showing him who she was.
“It gets bigger…” Ben muttered
“Oh, I know”
“Wait- what–”
Their casual conversation was interrupted by the arrival of their school bus. The familiar yellow behemoth lumbered into view, its tires crunching on the gravel. They climbed aboard, momentarily parting ways to their respective seats.
No sooner had they settled down than a chorus of high-pitched squeals rang through the bus. A gaggle of Emma's friends, a vibrant assortment of high school girls, were waving energetically at Ben.
"Emma! Get over here!" they called out voices bubbling with enthusiasm.
Ben shot Emma a puzzled look, to which she responded with a smirk. "Go on. It will be good for you."
With a sigh that was equal parts resignation and nervous excitement, Ben rose and joined Emma's friends. Their conversation was a whirlwind of girlish chatter, an onslaught of cheerleading stories, crush confessions, and fashion advice. Soon, one of the girls produced a top from a bags, a beautiful, silky number that made Ben's new heart flutter.
"This would look SO good on you, Emma!" one of them gushed, holding the top up against Ben's body. "The color would really bring out your eyes!"
Feeling a warm blush creep up his cheeks, Ben nodded and thanked them, feeling an odd pang of guilt for the deceit. He was not Emma, and yet, he was playing her part, basking in her social glow. A small part of him felt like a fraud. Plus the shirt was… rather revealing. It would show off his cleavage and belly button at once. He tried to turn his head to see what Emma thought, but he couldn’t get a good look.
“I wanted to give it to you for your date with Jake” the girl continued, unabated. “He’s got a thing for midriffs, Jess told me that when she was dating him, he…”
From the back of the bus, Emma was watching the entire spectacle unfold. An unfamiliar twinge of jealousy gnawed at her as she saw Ben - or rather, her body - being swept away into the mirthful chatter of her friends. She was left there, alone, in Ben's body, a spectator in her own life.
But amidst that feeling, there was also a sense of intrigue. Observing Ben navigate the complexities of her social life was enlightening, to say the least. He wasn’t being especially suave, but her friends seemed so understanding and patient with him- her- she should really appreciate them more. An off day? Nobody was batting an eye.
As the bus pulled up at the school, Ben was swept away with Emma’s friends, while Emma followed slowly behind, left alone by everyone. Ben was just beginning to get comfortable with their cheerful chatter when a friend, Amanda, suddenly leaned in and squinted at Ben's face.
"Oh my god, Emma!" Amanda gasped, covering her mouth with one hand. "What happened to your makeup? It looks like a two-year-old attacked your face with crayons."
The group of girls burst into laughter, their high-pitched giggles echoing around the bus. Ben felt heat rushing to his cheeks. He’d tried his hand at a bit of powder that morning, but he didn’t think it was that bad. He looked at Emma, who gave him an empathetic shrug. The world of makeup was a mystery to Ben, a chapter in the book of femininity he had never even flipped through.
"Well, we can't let you go around looking like that," Amanda declared, standing up. She took Ben's hand and started pulling him towards the bathroom. "We need to fix this, now."
As Amanda began to work on Ben's face, he watched his reflection in the mirror. It was surreal, seeing Amanda's hands move across his face, feeling the soft brush against his skin, but not recognizing the face that stared back at him. It was a face he was familiar with - Emma's face - but it was also a stranger's.
"Trust me, you'll look so much better after this," Amanda chatted away, her voice a comforting hum in the background. Ben listened to her and the other girls as they talked about the latest school gossip, their plans for the weekend, the new teacher everyone was crushing on.
The chatter was mundane, the kind of stuff Ben usually tuned out, but in this setting, it felt oddly intimate. He felt like he was getting a peek into a secret world, a glimpse into the life Emma led when he wasn't around.
Eventually, Amanda stepped back, her work done. Ben looked at himself in the mirror. His eyes were subtly lined, his cheeks flushed with a rosy blush, his lips a soft pink. He looked like Emma. And, strangely enough, he felt like Emma too.
"There," Amanda said, beaming at him. "Much better."
Ben blinked at his reflection, a smile slowly creeping onto his face. This was definitely going to take some getting used to. But for now, he was just Emma, living her life, one makeup touch-up at a time.
_______________________
Emma, inside Ben's body, could not escape the sensation of strangeness that filled her every step. Even the simple act of walking was different, the additional height and strength both a wonder and a challenge. She found herself bumping into things more often, her perception of her body's dimensions no longer accurate.
The bell for gym class rang just as she was getting a hang of her new stride. She watched as Ben was dragged off into the women’s change room by her classmates, and she sighed and headed into the boys. It was loud and smelly, but she was able to change undisturbed, her new bony fingers fumbling over the unfamiliar fabric of Ben's gym kit.
Basketball was the chosen game of the day, a game Emma had always played, but never particularly excelled at. She was too short to really have much of a chance. But as she stepped onto the court in Ben's body, she felt a surge of energy she had never experienced before. Her fingers closed around the leather ball with a certainty that surprised her. She could even hold the ball in one hand!
The first few minutes of the game were a chaos of movement. Emma watched her classmates as they moved across the court, noting their strategies, the ways they used their bodies to block or pass. Her own body responded in ways she wasn't expecting. It was taller, faster, stronger. Who knew that Ben’s body contained such power?
To her amazement, she found herself actually enjoying the game. She could shoot, pass and defend with ease. Her body moved with a fluidity she had never known, each move instinctive, as though she had been playing this way for years. The ball seemed to follow her command, the hoop an easy target.
As the game continued, Emma became more and more confident. She dodged her opponents, her new height providing her with an advantage she had never had before. She was making shots that she would have only dreamed of making in her own body.
She looked at the scoreboard. Her team was in the lead, and she had been a significant contributor. Her eyes met Ben's - or rather her own - standing on the sidelines, and she saw a look of surprise. Emma smiled, a small sense of pride washing over her.
When the final whistle blew, her team had won, and she found herself surrounded by her cheering classmates, guys slapping on the back, rustling her hair, making her feel proud! They would never do that to her in her own body! It was like all of the distance that she usually felt between herself and guys had disappeared, there was no awkwardness in the touching, no creepiness in the looks. They just slapped her on the back and cheered.
Emma realized then, under the bright lights of the gym, that she was living a day in Ben's shoes that she would never have experienced in her own body. For the first time, she felt a strange sense of gratitude towards the body swap. It wasn't all bad, after all.
__________________
Meanwhile, Ben had been navigating through the labyrinth of Emma's school day, filled with its own unique challenges. There was an increased attention to detail, an amplified sensitivity to social cues, an intricate dance of interactions that he was not familiar with.
When it was time for gym class, something that Ben had always dreaded, he found himself lucky enough to be on the sidelines, designated as one of the scorekeepers.
As the game started, his attention was drawn to his own body on the basketball court. Emma actually seemed to be enjoying herself! And not just enjoying herself, she was good! He watched in awe as she swiped the ball from an opposing player with a quickness he didn’t know his body was capable of, and then sprinted down the court before passing the ball hard and fast to a teammate who scored.
She was good, better than good. In his body, Emma was making shots that neither of them could have done in their own forms. What gives! She was moving with a confidence, a certain ease that was strangely mesmerizing.
He found himself clapping along with the others, cheering each time she scored a point. It was surreal, watching his own body perform so well under someone else's control. At the same time, he felt a kind of jealousy. How come he couldn’t play like that? A team mate whooped as Emma scored again, and high fived his old body as they ran up the court together. Ben didn’t even know that guy’s name. Why couldn’t he be popular like that?
As the final whistle blew, he watched as Emma's team celebrated their victory, watched as his own body was surrounded by cheering classmates, hugged and slapped and lifted up in the air. Ben clapped quietly, feeling strange, but when Emma jogged passed, she beamed at him, and he couldn’t help but smile.
He followed Emma’s friends back into the girls’ change room, and couldn’t help but chuckle as they chatted about “Ben's” newfound skills. One of them even wondered if he was single!
What the hell was going on?
______________________________________
The lunchroom was buzzing with activity as Ben took a seat at Emma's usual spot, surrounded by her friends. He got a salad. That’s the kind of thing Emma usually ate, right?
He found himself laughing and giggling with the other girls. Something inside him had relaxed a bit and he was having fun exaggerating his body’s exploits with them.
“Oh yeah” Ben said, “And his arms are super muscular!”
One of the girls laughed. “Oh shove off it, Emma! Now you’re just being silly!”
“But speaking of big arms…” another girl said with a grin.
Ben looked up, expecting to see Emma in his body. Instead, he was confronted by Jake, a smug, condescending grin on his face.
"Hey Emma," Jake greeted, seeming to dazzle everyone else at the table. "Looking gorgeous today, as usual."
Ben blushed. This was so weird.
“Uh…”
“So, I was thinking after our date on Thursday we could head up to the river. My Dad said I could borrow his BMW for the night. What do you reckon?”
Ewwwww god no! Ben was in no place to be thinking about that. He’d only been a girl for 12 hours or so!
“Uh, no, no thank you.”
“Huh? Why not?”
Ben looked down at himself. His lithe body, bare legs, perfect skin. Fuck Jake, he didn’t need to justify himself. The whole point of becoming Emma was so that he could feel what it was like to be socially powerful, daring, bold! And… he could do whatever he wanted!
“Because.. you’re a brainless moron.” he said, a slight smirk coming onto his face. Emma’s face! He was doing it! Emma was dumping Jake!
Jake’s mouth opened slightly, and he frowned, more confused than upset.
“Yeah, that’s right. You’re a bully. You’re mean. You’re an ugly, flat footed, stupid, neanderthal, um… dumb… just awful person!”
“What? But I thought-”
“And everybody hates you.” he added, just for good measure.
Jake clenched his jaw.
“So fuck off, actually, yeah fuck off back to whatever sewer you crawled out of. I never want to see you again!”
Ben smirked. That felt good.
Jake's face paled, shock evident in his blue eyes. There was an agonizingly long pause as the words hung in the air, the cafeteria around them a blur of stares and whispers.
With that, he turned and stormed out of the room, leaving Ben at the center of attention at the table, the girls still wide-eyed and silent.
Ben’s smug grin faded as he looked around the table, seeing the shock on the faces of Emma's friends. Surely it wasn’t that bad? Jake was an awful human. Emma would get over it. Besides, it was in her best interests not to end up with somebody like that.
These thoughts did little to help stop the sinking feeling in Ben’s stomach as he saw Emma gaping at him from across the room. She started to storm over to him, then stopped, seeming to change her mind, and scampered out of the room after Jake, tears in her eyes.
Ah.
Yes.
That was kind of mean. Just not to Jake.
To Be Continued.
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Hey /r/newyoubodyswap! As the title suggests, I am a 23-year-old woman who just a few months ago, was living life as a 27-year-old man. This transformation has been made possible by the NewYou body swap service. The platform leverages neuralink technology to let transgender individuals experience life in a body that aligns with their gender identity. Ask me anything!
Hey /r/newyoubodyswap! As the title suggests, I am a 23-year-old woman who just a few months ago, was living life as a 27-year-old man. This transformation has been made possible by the NewYou body swap service. The platform leverages neuralink technology to let transgender individuals experience life in a body that aligns with their gender identity.
To put it simply, NewYou essentially bridges two bodies, transmitting sensations and motor commands between the two neuralink implants. It's a form of technological telepathy, I suppose, which allows each of us to live within the other's body.
I took the plunge a couple of months ago, opting to swap bodies with a wonderful trans man who was seeking the same sense of alignment that I was. After several medical and psychological assessments, we both decided to proceed, undergoing the surgical procedure to have the neuralink implants put in place. We then began the process of acclimating to our new bodies.
It's been a surreal, challenging, and ultimately rewarding experience. I am living life as a woman now, something I had yearned for, for as long as I can remember. This service has allowed me to be me, fully and unabashedly.
Now, I know a lot of you may have questions about this process and what it’s like living in a different body. I'm here, ready and willing to share my experience, hoping it may be helpful to those who are considering a similar journey. AMA!
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Could you tell us about the differences between your new body and old one?
Absolutely, I'd be happy to elaborate. The differences are quite stark, both physically and emotionally.
Physically, the changes are noticeable in every aspect. My new body is shorter and smaller in stature compared to my old one. My skin is softer, and I've noticed the change in my hair texture as well. The body shape is entirely different, featuring curves where there were none before. I'm also getting used to the lack of facial and body hair, which is a pleasant change for me.
The sensory experiences are also very different. I've noticed that smells and tastes seem somewhat amplified, which took some adjusting. Physically, I feel lighter and more agile. The hormonal changes have also affected my emotional state quite a bit. I tend to feel emotions more intensely than before, which has been an enlightening experience.
One thing that took some getting used to was the different strengths. I'm not as physically strong as I used to be, which was a bit of a surprise at first. Even everyday tasks like opening jars or moving furniture took some adjusting.
On the inside, it's hard to explain, but I just feel more aligned, more 'me'. It's like I've been wearing a mask my entire life, and I've finally taken it off. It's truly liberating. And, of course, experiencing life as a woman brings with it a host of societal and cultural differences that I'm still navigating.
Overall, I'm incredibly grateful for this experience. It's been challenging but also so rewarding. I finally feel comfortable in my own skin.
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It must have been odd to go from what, 6’ to 5’2”?
Absolutely, it took some getting used to for sure! The change in height and proportions was particularly striking, and led to a few amusing (and mildly embarrassing) incidents.
One day, about three weeks after the swap, I was at the supermarket doing some grocery shopping. It was the same store I'd always shopped at, and I was so used to just reaching out and grabbing things from the shelves. I was going about my shopping as usual, when I reached the aisle with canned goods. I saw a can of soup I wanted that was, unfortunately, sitting on the top shelf.
Without thinking much of it, I reached up to grab the can, as I always had. But, to my surprise, my hand found nothing but air. I looked up, perplexed, and realized the top shelf was now well out of my reach.
Standing there, looking at that can of soup like it was the Holy Grail, I felt a little foolish. I glanced around, half-expecting to see people pointing and laughing. Instead, I saw a fellow shopper looking at me with a knowing smile. He was tall, and without a word, he reached up and handed me the can of soup. He simply said, "I got you," and walked away.
I must have stood there, blushing, for a good minute before I finally moved on. The experience was a reality check for me, underscoring just how much my world had changed, literally and figuratively. It was a small, somewhat silly moment, but it was significant in helping me realize the ways in which I would have to adapt to my new body and its capabilities.
So yes, while it's been an adjustment, these little moments have also made me appreciate my new reality in ways I hadn't anticipated. It's a learning experience, and I'm enjoying the journey.
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What's it like to have guys hit on you now?
Oh man, that’s a whole different ball game! I've had my share of cringe-worthy moments, believe me.
The first time it happened, I was at a café, minding my own business, when this dude walked over. He starts off with, "Are you a magician? Because whenever I look at you, everyone else disappears." I'm not gonna lie, I thought he was trying to sell me something at first, so I just blinked at him and then looked around like I was trying to find the hidden cameras. It was only when he sat down that it clicked, and I was like, "Oh...oh!"
Honestly, it's a bit weird. Like, I appreciate a good compliment as much as the next person, but the over-the-top, cheesy pick-up lines? Those are something else. And then there's the whole etiquette around who pays for meals, holding doors open, all that stuff. It's like learning a whole new social dance.
Don't get me wrong, though, there's a certain charm to it too. The little kindnesses, when genuine, can be very sweet. And I’ve had a lot of fun gently letting down the ones who just don’t get the hint.
But yeah, it’s definitely a new and sometimes awkward experience. I’m still getting the hang of it. So, to all the guys out there, remember: cheese is great on pizza, not so much in your pick-up lines! ;)
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Does everybody know you used to be a dude, or are you kind of stealth?
That's a great question. The truth is, it's a bit of both. My close friends and family, of course, are all aware of my transition. They've been wonderfully supportive and understanding throughout this whole process. As for everyone else, it really depends on the situation and the person.
I do want to clarify that using terms like 'used to be a dude' can be a little oversimplified for many of us in the trans community. While I understand the spirit of the question, I like to think of it as 'I've always been a woman, but I was in a male body before.' Language matters, as it helps shape our understanding and attitudes!
Back to your question, though: in casual interactions, I don't generally bring it up unless it's relevant or I feel comfortable enough to share. It's not exactly a secret, but it's also not the first thing I share about myself.
Online, it's a different story. As you can tell from this AMA, I'm pretty open about my experiences. I believe that sharing these stories can help build understanding and empathy. But I'm also aware that privacy is important, and not every trans person may feel comfortable or safe to be as open.
So yeah, I guess you could say I'm semi-stealth. It's a balancing act, and one that I'm still figuring out as I go along. Like everything else in this process, it's a journey! And one that I’m glad to be on.
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So since it's a neuralink thing, does that mean you're technically still in your original body, and just being sort of broadcast into the new one? Like, if the girl you swapped with got your old body drunk, would it affect you?
So, it's not quite a full upload, more like a continuous live stream of consciousness between the two bodies.
To make it clearer, both my original body and my new one have Neuralink implants. These implants communicate constantly, sending and receiving signals between the two bodies. When I say "I'm in a new body," it's because I'm experiencing all the sensory input and motor control from this female body, all the time. My old body is essentially being piloted remotely in the same way, by my swap partner.
The ‘would I get drunk’ question is a bit harder. I think I would? I’m actually not sure exactly. They did tell us not to do anything like that. All the sensations, including ones like hunger, tiredness, etc, are transferred, so I think the sensation of being drunk would be to – that is, if my original body was drunk, I wouldn’t feel it, but I think the alcohol would still affect my brain processing? Like, the chemicals are still in there, interfering with whatever thoughts the neuralink isn’t adjusting back to baseline me. Just a guess, really.
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What was the first week of being a girl like? I'm thinking about signing up myself, but I'm a bit nervous.
The first week was a whirlwind, no doubt about it. Excitement, confusion, nerves - all mixed into one crazy cocktail. But, I have to say, it's been the best decision I ever made, despite the challenges.
Waking up for the first time in my new body was a surreal experience. Imagine waking up one morning and you're not just in a different bed, but in a different body. I was shorter now, and definitely felt it – I kept bumping into things and everything in my apartment seemed weirdly big. I had to throw out almost all of my clothes too. I kept one big jacket that I loved, but now it hangs practically down to my knees when I wear it haha.
My new body was previously owned by a trans man, so it was initially very masculine in appearance. He'd kept the hair short, and I had hair everywhere else too. Apart from being only 5’2” tall, he was basically passing. It was a strange middle ground, looking down and seeing a female body that was so much more masculine than I'd expected, like the opposite of my own body lol
The first thing I did, once I got over the initial dizziness and giddy disbelief, was to take a long, hard look at myself in the mirror. I remember running my fingers through the short hair, touching my smooth cheeks. I remember flexing my arms and giggling at how tiny they looked. Obvious spent a long time getting used to my boobs and vagina. I loved wearing really tight pants for a while afterwards and looking down and just… flat.
Re-feminizing the body was a process. My skin was different, so my makeup came out basically looking like a clown at first. I was so excited the first time I went shopping in my new body the sales girl didn’t know what to do with me. She kinda gave me a judgemental frown the whole time I was there which honestly I loved. Sounds weird, but it was like, she was judging me like a girl judges a girl? I don’t know if that makes sense.
I was pretty bad to be first tbh. I didn’t know my proportions, and the clothes I tried on were all kind of ill fitting and honestly, way too revealing. But I was revealing in it, you know! I wish I'd taken more pictures.
Working on my physique was another task altogether. I started doing more cardio, less weights, to get a softer, more feminine figure. Seeing the changes week after week was a really powerful motivator. It made the whole experience feel more real, and it was incredibly rewarding to see my reflection in the mirror become more and more the woman I felt inside.
Hope this helps you a bit with your decision. Feel free to ask any other questions you may have. Good luck on your journey, wherever it may lead!
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Did you ever meet your original body again?
I certainly did! It was about two months after the swap, once we had both gotten somewhat used to our new bodies. We had agreed to meet up, both out of curiosity and to see how the other was adjusting. It was one of the strangest and most enlightening experiences of my life.
I remember walking into the café where we'd agreed to meet and seeing him - or rather, seeing my old body, sitting there in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. It was bizarre seeing myself from the outside, like watching some kind of strange doppelgänger.
The first thing he said when he saw me was, "Wow, you really went all out, didn't you?" I'd dressed up a bit for the meeting - a tasteful dress, some light makeup, and yes, a pair of modest high heels. I'd even managed to coax my growing hair into a somewhat elegant style.
I'll never forget the look on his face as he took in the changes - a mix of amazement, amusement, and a touch of shock. He laughed and shook his head, saying, "I would have never thought to see this body in heels."
We had a good laugh about that. It was a moment of shared understanding - we'd both lived in these bodies, and we both knew the strange, surreal journey we were on. There was something comforting in that shared experience.
It was also a poignant reminder of the drastic changes we were each making to adapt to our new bodies. For him, it was about embracing the masculine physique he'd always wanted, while for me, it was about bringing out the femininity I'd always felt.
So yes, seeing my old body again was an experience, to say the least. It was strange, funny, and a little bittersweet, but I wouldn't change it for anything. It's all part of this incredible journey I've embarked upon.
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What’s the most unexpected thing about being female?
I'd have to say it's the grip strength. I had been prepared for a lot of the differences, but that one took me by surprise.
It's the weirdest thing, like my hands just don't work the same way they used to. I remember the first time I really noticed it. I was trying to open a jar of pickles and it just... wouldn't budge. I tried and tried, my hand wrapped around the lid, the tiny muscles straining in my forearm. And nothing.
I remember staring at my hand, this delicate, slender thing with neat, short nails. The wrist was thin, the knuckles less pronounced than I remembered. It was like my hand was a doll's hand, dainty and pretty, but lacking the raw strength I was used to.
I won't lie, it was a bit of a blow to my ego. I used to pride myself on my grip strength. I was the jar-opener of the house, the go-to person for stubborn bottle caps. And now, I was staring at this jar of pickles like it was an unsolvable puzzle.
But you know what? After a moment of sulking, I just laughed it off. I found a rubber band, wrapped it around the lid for extra grip, and voila - open jar of pickles.
I guess it's just one of those things you don't really think about until you're in the situation. But, as with everything else in this journey, it's about adapting and overcoming. So now, I keep a rubber band in the kitchen drawer and I've started doing some grip strength exercises.
I might not have the same brute strength I used to have, but I'm learning to navigate this world in a different way. And there's something really empowering about that. It's a daily reminder of the woman I've become, and every time I open a jar, it's a tiny victory. Plus, the pickles taste pretty good too! ;)
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Have you had sex yet? What did it feel like? How was it different?
I have, aha, and it was goooood. I mean, weird, but good. When you’re a guy it’s more concentrated in your dick right? As a girl it’s more spread out, warm and inside. To be honest, I never really liked having sex when I had a male body, so that’s probably part of it, but it was so much more enjoyable as a girl. It’s slower, more difficult to orgasm, but my whole body gets hot and I have a kind of shaky feeling now that I never used to? Also the orgasm itself lasts so much longer than before! It’s like stomach, leg, mind, everything all at once.
The other difference was just being less in control? Like, I had this odd sensation when I was being thrown around and moved about by my boyfriend in a way that I couldn’t have been before, and he really loved teasing me about it – holding me down in ways he couldn’t before, because I used to be bigger than him, haha.
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What was it like choosing your new outfits and things for the first time?
Ah, the first shopping trip. Now that was a trip in more ways than one.
When I first decided to go shopping for new clothes, I was a ball of nerves and excitement. I had this mental checklist of all the feminine clothing items I'd always admired but never had the chance to wear - dresses, skirts, blouses, you name it.
But the biggest revelation was definitely the shoes. Oh my gosh, the shoes.
As a guy, I had pretty large feet and finding stylish shoes that fit was always a struggle. Now, in my new body, my feet were comparatively tiny. The first time I stepped into a shoe store, I was gobsmacked. All these shoes, in all these styles, and they all actually FIT.
I remember sitting there, a pair of cute flats in one hand and a stylish heel in the other, just marveling at the fact that they were my size. The sleek curves of the heel, the delicate design of the flats - these were things I'd always admired from afar, and now they were mine to wear.
Slipping my foot into a heel for the first time was like stepping into a new world. The way it changed my posture, made me stand taller, the confident click-clack they made on the floor. It felt powerful in a way I hadn't anticipated.
And then came the challenge of walking in them. I won't lie, I was wobbly as a newborn deer at first. But after some practice (and a few hilarious missteps), I started getting the hang of it. Now, I can strut around in those babies like a runway model - well, a runway model on her first day, maybe.
But shoes were just the beginning. Dresses, skirts, jeans that actually fit - it was like stepping into a whole new world of fashion, and I was eager to explore it all. It was a journey of self-discovery and self-expression, and I'm still riding that wave.
As overwhelming as it was at first, I wouldn't trade those moments for anything. Every time I slip into a pair of heels, it's a reminder of how far I've come, and how much further I still have to go on this journey of mine. And let me tell you, I'm excited to see where it takes me. So here's to the road ahead - may it be as fabulous as my shoe collection!
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Do you ever get dressed up and just admire being a woman?
So about a month in, I decided to treat myself. I'd seen this stunning dress in a boutique window - knee-length, black, with a plunging neckline and an open back. It was a bold piece, the kind of thing that demands attention and confidence. I wasn't sure if I was ready for that, but I figured why not? I was embarking on a new life, and I wanted to experience it all.
Trying it on was...an experience. At first, I was a bit self-conscious. I mean, it was more revealing than anything I'd ever worn before. But as I pulled the zipper up and looked at myself in the full-length mirror, something amazing happened.
I saw a woman staring back at me. Not just any woman - but me, as a woman. The dress hugged my curves, accentuated the softness of my new figure. The open back was elegant, daring, and the neckline...well, let's just say it made the most of what I had.
I remember turning this way and that, watching how the fabric shimmered under the lights. I ran a hand down my side, marveling at the softness of my skin, the slender line of my waist. And for the first time since the swap, I felt...well, hot.
I know that sounds vain, but it was an incredible feeling. After years of feeling uncomfortable in my own skin, of not recognizing the person in the mirror, I finally felt at home. I was finally seeing the person I'd always felt I was, inside and out.
I bought the dress right then and there, and wore it out of the boutique. Strutting down the sidewalk, head high, I felt on top of the world. I won't say I didn't get a few stares - but for the first time in my life, I didn't mind. I was proud of who I was, proud of the journey I'd taken to get here.
And that dress? It's still hanging in my closet, a constant reminder of the woman I've become. It's a symbol of my transformation, a testament to my courage, and the best impulse buy I've ever made.
Hey /r/newyoubodyswap! As the title suggests, I am a 23-year-old woman who just a few months ago, was living life as a 27-year-old man. This transformation has been made possible by the NewYou body swap service. The platform leverages neuralink technology to let transgender individuals experience life in a body that aligns with their gender identity.
To put it simply, NewYou essentially bridges two bodies, transmitting sensations and motor commands between the two neuralink implants. It's a form of technological telepathy, I suppose, which allows each of us to live within the other's body.
I took the plunge a couple of months ago, opting to swap bodies with a wonderful trans man who was seeking the same sense of alignment that I was. After several medical and psychological assessments, we both decided to proceed, undergoing the surgical procedure to have the neuralink implants put in place. We then began the process of acclimating to our new bodies.
It's been a surreal, challenging, and ultimately rewarding experience. I am living life as a woman now, something I had yearned for, for as long as I can remember. This service has allowed me to be me, fully and unabashedly.
Now, I know a lot of you may have questions about this process and what it’s like living in a different body. I'm here, ready and willing to share my experience, hoping it may be helpful to those who are considering a similar journey. AMA!
__________________________
Could you tell us about the differences between your new body and old one?
Absolutely, I'd be happy to elaborate. The differences are quite stark, both physically and emotionally.
Physically, the changes are noticeable in every aspect. My new body is shorter and smaller in stature compared to my old one. My skin is softer, and I've noticed the change in my hair texture as well. The body shape is entirely different, featuring curves where there were none before. I'm also getting used to the lack of facial and body hair, which is a pleasant change for me.
The sensory experiences are also very different. I've noticed that smells and tastes seem somewhat amplified, which took some adjusting. Physically, I feel lighter and more agile. The hormonal changes have also affected my emotional state quite a bit. I tend to feel emotions more intensely than before, which has been an enlightening experience.
One thing that took some getting used to was the different strengths. I'm not as physically strong as I used to be, which was a bit of a surprise at first. Even everyday tasks like opening jars or moving furniture took some adjusting.
On the inside, it's hard to explain, but I just feel more aligned, more 'me'. It's like I've been wearing a mask my entire life, and I've finally taken it off. It's truly liberating. And, of course, experiencing life as a woman brings with it a host of societal and cultural differences that I'm still navigating.
Overall, I'm incredibly grateful for this experience. It's been challenging but also so rewarding. I finally feel comfortable in my own skin.
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It must have been odd to go from what, 6’ to 5’2”?
Absolutely, it took some getting used to for sure! The change in height and proportions was particularly striking, and led to a few amusing (and mildly embarrassing) incidents.
One day, about three weeks after the swap, I was at the supermarket doing some grocery shopping. It was the same store I'd always shopped at, and I was so used to just reaching out and grabbing things from the shelves. I was going about my shopping as usual, when I reached the aisle with canned goods. I saw a can of soup I wanted that was, unfortunately, sitting on the top shelf.
Without thinking much of it, I reached up to grab the can, as I always had. But, to my surprise, my hand found nothing but air. I looked up, perplexed, and realized the top shelf was now well out of my reach.
Standing there, looking at that can of soup like it was the Holy Grail, I felt a little foolish. I glanced around, half-expecting to see people pointing and laughing. Instead, I saw a fellow shopper looking at me with a knowing smile. He was tall, and without a word, he reached up and handed me the can of soup. He simply said, "I got you," and walked away.
I must have stood there, blushing, for a good minute before I finally moved on. The experience was a reality check for me, underscoring just how much my world had changed, literally and figuratively. It was a small, somewhat silly moment, but it was significant in helping me realize the ways in which I would have to adapt to my new body and its capabilities.
So yes, while it's been an adjustment, these little moments have also made me appreciate my new reality in ways I hadn't anticipated. It's a learning experience, and I'm enjoying the journey.
___________________________
What's it like to have guys hit on you now?
Oh man, that’s a whole different ball game! I've had my share of cringe-worthy moments, believe me.
The first time it happened, I was at a café, minding my own business, when this dude walked over. He starts off with, "Are you a magician? Because whenever I look at you, everyone else disappears." I'm not gonna lie, I thought he was trying to sell me something at first, so I just blinked at him and then looked around like I was trying to find the hidden cameras. It was only when he sat down that it clicked, and I was like, "Oh...oh!"
Honestly, it's a bit weird. Like, I appreciate a good compliment as much as the next person, but the over-the-top, cheesy pick-up lines? Those are something else. And then there's the whole etiquette around who pays for meals, holding doors open, all that stuff. It's like learning a whole new social dance.
Don't get me wrong, though, there's a certain charm to it too. The little kindnesses, when genuine, can be very sweet. And I’ve had a lot of fun gently letting down the ones who just don’t get the hint.
But yeah, it’s definitely a new and sometimes awkward experience. I’m still getting the hang of it. So, to all the guys out there, remember: cheese is great on pizza, not so much in your pick-up lines! ;)
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Does everybody know you used to be a dude, or are you kind of stealth?
That's a great question. The truth is, it's a bit of both. My close friends and family, of course, are all aware of my transition. They've been wonderfully supportive and understanding throughout this whole process. As for everyone else, it really depends on the situation and the person.
I do want to clarify that using terms like 'used to be a dude' can be a little oversimplified for many of us in the trans community. While I understand the spirit of the question, I like to think of it as 'I've always been a woman, but I was in a male body before.' Language matters, as it helps shape our understanding and attitudes!
Back to your question, though: in casual interactions, I don't generally bring it up unless it's relevant or I feel comfortable enough to share. It's not exactly a secret, but it's also not the first thing I share about myself.
Online, it's a different story. As you can tell from this AMA, I'm pretty open about my experiences. I believe that sharing these stories can help build understanding and empathy. But I'm also aware that privacy is important, and not every trans person may feel comfortable or safe to be as open.
So yeah, I guess you could say I'm semi-stealth. It's a balancing act, and one that I'm still figuring out as I go along. Like everything else in this process, it's a journey! And one that I’m glad to be on.
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So since it's a neuralink thing, does that mean you're technically still in your original body, and just being sort of broadcast into the new one? Like, if the girl you swapped with got your old body drunk, would it affect you?
So, it's not quite a full upload, more like a continuous live stream of consciousness between the two bodies.
To make it clearer, both my original body and my new one have Neuralink implants. These implants communicate constantly, sending and receiving signals between the two bodies. When I say "I'm in a new body," it's because I'm experiencing all the sensory input and motor control from this female body, all the time. My old body is essentially being piloted remotely in the same way, by my swap partner.
The ‘would I get drunk’ question is a bit harder. I think I would? I’m actually not sure exactly. They did tell us not to do anything like that. All the sensations, including ones like hunger, tiredness, etc, are transferred, so I think the sensation of being drunk would be to – that is, if my original body was drunk, I wouldn’t feel it, but I think the alcohol would still affect my brain processing? Like, the chemicals are still in there, interfering with whatever thoughts the neuralink isn’t adjusting back to baseline me. Just a guess, really.
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What was the first week of being a girl like? I'm thinking about signing up myself, but I'm a bit nervous.
The first week was a whirlwind, no doubt about it. Excitement, confusion, nerves - all mixed into one crazy cocktail. But, I have to say, it's been the best decision I ever made, despite the challenges.
Waking up for the first time in my new body was a surreal experience. Imagine waking up one morning and you're not just in a different bed, but in a different body. I was shorter now, and definitely felt it – I kept bumping into things and everything in my apartment seemed weirdly big. I had to throw out almost all of my clothes too. I kept one big jacket that I loved, but now it hangs practically down to my knees when I wear it haha.
My new body was previously owned by a trans man, so it was initially very masculine in appearance. He'd kept the hair short, and I had hair everywhere else too. Apart from being only 5’2” tall, he was basically passing. It was a strange middle ground, looking down and seeing a female body that was so much more masculine than I'd expected, like the opposite of my own body lol
The first thing I did, once I got over the initial dizziness and giddy disbelief, was to take a long, hard look at myself in the mirror. I remember running my fingers through the short hair, touching my smooth cheeks. I remember flexing my arms and giggling at how tiny they looked. Obvious spent a long time getting used to my boobs and vagina. I loved wearing really tight pants for a while afterwards and looking down and just… flat.
Re-feminizing the body was a process. My skin was different, so my makeup came out basically looking like a clown at first. I was so excited the first time I went shopping in my new body the sales girl didn’t know what to do with me. She kinda gave me a judgemental frown the whole time I was there which honestly I loved. Sounds weird, but it was like, she was judging me like a girl judges a girl? I don’t know if that makes sense.
I was pretty bad to be first tbh. I didn’t know my proportions, and the clothes I tried on were all kind of ill fitting and honestly, way too revealing. But I was revealing in it, you know! I wish I'd taken more pictures.
Working on my physique was another task altogether. I started doing more cardio, less weights, to get a softer, more feminine figure. Seeing the changes week after week was a really powerful motivator. It made the whole experience feel more real, and it was incredibly rewarding to see my reflection in the mirror become more and more the woman I felt inside.
Hope this helps you a bit with your decision. Feel free to ask any other questions you may have. Good luck on your journey, wherever it may lead!
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Did you ever meet your original body again?
I certainly did! It was about two months after the swap, once we had both gotten somewhat used to our new bodies. We had agreed to meet up, both out of curiosity and to see how the other was adjusting. It was one of the strangest and most enlightening experiences of my life.
I remember walking into the café where we'd agreed to meet and seeing him - or rather, seeing my old body, sitting there in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. It was bizarre seeing myself from the outside, like watching some kind of strange doppelgänger.
The first thing he said when he saw me was, "Wow, you really went all out, didn't you?" I'd dressed up a bit for the meeting - a tasteful dress, some light makeup, and yes, a pair of modest high heels. I'd even managed to coax my growing hair into a somewhat elegant style.
I'll never forget the look on his face as he took in the changes - a mix of amazement, amusement, and a touch of shock. He laughed and shook his head, saying, "I would have never thought to see this body in heels."
We had a good laugh about that. It was a moment of shared understanding - we'd both lived in these bodies, and we both knew the strange, surreal journey we were on. There was something comforting in that shared experience.
It was also a poignant reminder of the drastic changes we were each making to adapt to our new bodies. For him, it was about embracing the masculine physique he'd always wanted, while for me, it was about bringing out the femininity I'd always felt.
So yes, seeing my old body again was an experience, to say the least. It was strange, funny, and a little bittersweet, but I wouldn't change it for anything. It's all part of this incredible journey I've embarked upon.
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What’s the most unexpected thing about being female?
I'd have to say it's the grip strength. I had been prepared for a lot of the differences, but that one took me by surprise.
It's the weirdest thing, like my hands just don't work the same way they used to. I remember the first time I really noticed it. I was trying to open a jar of pickles and it just... wouldn't budge. I tried and tried, my hand wrapped around the lid, the tiny muscles straining in my forearm. And nothing.
I remember staring at my hand, this delicate, slender thing with neat, short nails. The wrist was thin, the knuckles less pronounced than I remembered. It was like my hand was a doll's hand, dainty and pretty, but lacking the raw strength I was used to.
I won't lie, it was a bit of a blow to my ego. I used to pride myself on my grip strength. I was the jar-opener of the house, the go-to person for stubborn bottle caps. And now, I was staring at this jar of pickles like it was an unsolvable puzzle.
But you know what? After a moment of sulking, I just laughed it off. I found a rubber band, wrapped it around the lid for extra grip, and voila - open jar of pickles.
I guess it's just one of those things you don't really think about until you're in the situation. But, as with everything else in this journey, it's about adapting and overcoming. So now, I keep a rubber band in the kitchen drawer and I've started doing some grip strength exercises.
I might not have the same brute strength I used to have, but I'm learning to navigate this world in a different way. And there's something really empowering about that. It's a daily reminder of the woman I've become, and every time I open a jar, it's a tiny victory. Plus, the pickles taste pretty good too! ;)
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Have you had sex yet? What did it feel like? How was it different?
I have, aha, and it was goooood. I mean, weird, but good. When you’re a guy it’s more concentrated in your dick right? As a girl it’s more spread out, warm and inside. To be honest, I never really liked having sex when I had a male body, so that’s probably part of it, but it was so much more enjoyable as a girl. It’s slower, more difficult to orgasm, but my whole body gets hot and I have a kind of shaky feeling now that I never used to? Also the orgasm itself lasts so much longer than before! It’s like stomach, leg, mind, everything all at once.
The other difference was just being less in control? Like, I had this odd sensation when I was being thrown around and moved about by my boyfriend in a way that I couldn’t have been before, and he really loved teasing me about it – holding me down in ways he couldn’t before, because I used to be bigger than him, haha.
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What was it like choosing your new outfits and things for the first time?
Ah, the first shopping trip. Now that was a trip in more ways than one.
When I first decided to go shopping for new clothes, I was a ball of nerves and excitement. I had this mental checklist of all the feminine clothing items I'd always admired but never had the chance to wear - dresses, skirts, blouses, you name it.
But the biggest revelation was definitely the shoes. Oh my gosh, the shoes.
As a guy, I had pretty large feet and finding stylish shoes that fit was always a struggle. Now, in my new body, my feet were comparatively tiny. The first time I stepped into a shoe store, I was gobsmacked. All these shoes, in all these styles, and they all actually FIT.
I remember sitting there, a pair of cute flats in one hand and a stylish heel in the other, just marveling at the fact that they were my size. The sleek curves of the heel, the delicate design of the flats - these were things I'd always admired from afar, and now they were mine to wear.
Slipping my foot into a heel for the first time was like stepping into a new world. The way it changed my posture, made me stand taller, the confident click-clack they made on the floor. It felt powerful in a way I hadn't anticipated.
And then came the challenge of walking in them. I won't lie, I was wobbly as a newborn deer at first. But after some practice (and a few hilarious missteps), I started getting the hang of it. Now, I can strut around in those babies like a runway model - well, a runway model on her first day, maybe.
But shoes were just the beginning. Dresses, skirts, jeans that actually fit - it was like stepping into a whole new world of fashion, and I was eager to explore it all. It was a journey of self-discovery and self-expression, and I'm still riding that wave.
As overwhelming as it was at first, I wouldn't trade those moments for anything. Every time I slip into a pair of heels, it's a reminder of how far I've come, and how much further I still have to go on this journey of mine. And let me tell you, I'm excited to see where it takes me. So here's to the road ahead - may it be as fabulous as my shoe collection!
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Do you ever get dressed up and just admire being a woman?
So about a month in, I decided to treat myself. I'd seen this stunning dress in a boutique window - knee-length, black, with a plunging neckline and an open back. It was a bold piece, the kind of thing that demands attention and confidence. I wasn't sure if I was ready for that, but I figured why not? I was embarking on a new life, and I wanted to experience it all.
Trying it on was...an experience. At first, I was a bit self-conscious. I mean, it was more revealing than anything I'd ever worn before. But as I pulled the zipper up and looked at myself in the full-length mirror, something amazing happened.
I saw a woman staring back at me. Not just any woman - but me, as a woman. The dress hugged my curves, accentuated the softness of my new figure. The open back was elegant, daring, and the neckline...well, let's just say it made the most of what I had.
I remember turning this way and that, watching how the fabric shimmered under the lights. I ran a hand down my side, marveling at the softness of my skin, the slender line of my waist. And for the first time since the swap, I felt...well, hot.
I know that sounds vain, but it was an incredible feeling. After years of feeling uncomfortable in my own skin, of not recognizing the person in the mirror, I finally felt at home. I was finally seeing the person I'd always felt I was, inside and out.
I bought the dress right then and there, and wore it out of the boutique. Strutting down the sidewalk, head high, I felt on top of the world. I won't say I didn't get a few stares - but for the first time in my life, I didn't mind. I was proud of who I was, proud of the journey I'd taken to get here.
And that dress? It's still hanging in my closet, a constant reminder of the woman I've become. It's a symbol of my transformation, a testament to my courage, and the best impulse buy I've ever made.
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In a world where body swapping is commonplace, Aaron and Miranda both find out something was changed when they were born. Now, on nothing more than a hunch, they start to get their own bodies back.
Technology was ever advancing, allowing modifications and things that were once only dreamed of in science fiction. While it wasn’t for the most ethical of reasons, eventually the technology to transfer consciousness between human bodies was created, decommissioned, re-commissioned and tested.
Naturally, the science and technology behind the body swapping was used primarily to assist people with mismatched bodies in some way or another. Though that was only recently. For a longer than it should’ve been time, some people used it when their child wasn’t quite as they were expecting. Parents who wanted a son would often swap with parents who wanted a daughter, and vice versa.
This naturally was stopped as soon as possible. The ramifications to a child’s mental health were too high risk. Especially if they found out what had happened to them as infants. Now, exceptions were made for the health of the infant, but naturally this allowed things to slip through the cracks.
However, by the miracle of humanity pulling its collective head out of its collective ass for once, there were no scars and if a child did go through the process, it was reversable. So, now that the process had become commonplace, everyone was likely to know someone who had at least part of their body swapped. Some used it in place of difficult surgeries, some used it for fun.
But that was the reality of today. In year 20XX where humanity had managed to make something cool for once. The concept of the self was more malleable than it had ever been, more flexible and fluid. Humans were their own playthings now, at least to a point.
But for some, there was a feeling that something wasn’t right. Not in the traditional sense of dysphoria or dysmorphia, those were now easily solvable, but in the sense that something wasn’t as it should’ve been. That nagging feeling of discomfort was just something that Aaron couldn’t shake. At home, at school or anywhere really.
The teenager had initially chalked it up to those awkward growing pains. Since he couldn’t place the discomfort, he had chosen to ignore it. But it was still there, ever present in the back of his mind, and nothing he tried was helping.
At least in school he could distract himself by trying to pay attention to science lectures in class. They weren’t boring by any means; it was just the same things repeated day in and day out. So, he let his eyes wander, his mind following suit, and it settled on someone else in the room.
A girl just a few desks away from him. Miranda was her name and as Aaron’s friends would tease him about. He was down bad. If he wasn’t trying to deal with whatever was going on with that nagging discomfort. He was trying to think of what games Miranda liked, or what she would want to do if he asked her out and said yes.
Miranda, however, was doing the same thing Aaron was. At least she would if having an eye on the back of your head was still legal. They had exchanged exactly one sentence with each other, both teens could remember it perfectly.
“Charizard is overrated.” Aaron had said during one of the many times a teacher had been running late. Which Miranda has overheard.
“Yeah, Blastoise is better.” she had responded, both nodded at each other, then went back to their own business. If clichés were able to physically manifest, it was love at first nerd. It had been over a year since then and they had managed to accidentally pick most of the same classes.
Eventually their friends had had enough and got them sitting right across from each other one lunch time. Hoping that this would actually let them talk to one another. The awkward teen romance was becoming hell for everyone, as even that attempt barely got them talking to each other.
“I don’t know...” Miranda said to one of her friends after another attempt at this. “It feels like... something’s off?”
“I don’t know why?” Aaron said, mirroring that sentiment with his own friends. “Whenever I try to talk the words get stuck in my throat. It’s really annoying.”
“You’re telling me,” Their friends would say, but eventually the attempts stopped. If it was going to happen it would just have to rely on them not getting stuck on what to say. So, they stopped, and eventually say them ever so slowly say more than single word answers to one another.
“Hey...” Aaron eventually said, managing to get words out of his throat. “You uh, look good?’ Miranda looked at him with a million-yard stare in response, like something had just forcefully inserted a Lego brick under her foot.
“Thanks...” she responded, trying her best to not blush. “You, too.” her response got a similar feeling out of Aaron, and neither of them knew why. It just made it more awkward, if that was even possible.
They tried again, but both had that same strange feeling. Not that either of them was hiding something, but something that matched up with that strange discomfort in the back of their minds. Each time they tried to talk outside of a class they just froze.
“Why can’t we talk?” Aaron had written on a note, trying to see if that was going to cause the same thing. He slid it over to Miranda and got a response back.
“No idea, maybe it’s something about our voices?” the note said, with a little drawing of a shrugging cat under it.
“it’s the only thing that makes sense I guess?” Aaron wrote back. The thought of their voices throwing them off was a possibility, but a weird one at that. The bell rang before they could try to piece anything else together, meaning they had to try and focus for the last class of the day.
That night however, both teens decided to look into things. The idea of their voices triggering something uncomfortable was too weird of an idea to shake. A couple hours of searching online brought them to the same conclusion.
“Body and Aspect Swapping. If the process is done incorrectly or too early, the recipients of the swap may experience mild to severe anxiety when meeting with the recipient of the traded aspects.” several articles reported on. The idea of having it done too early was a strange one, but that’s what the restrictions on the process were for. Though, the dates were strange, and both of the teens realized it and opened their emails.
“Did we switch bodies?” they both sent within seconds of the other. “Holy crap we did, didn’t we?”
“Does that mean I was a guy?” Miranda said, not hating the idea and finding some comfort in it that she didn’t quite understand yet.
“I was a girl? Awesome!” Aaron said, something in the back of his mind clicking at that revelation. They quickly started sharing that detail to one another in emails, back and forth. They agreed that this was just something they would’ve found out sooner or later but needed to think of what to do. After all, their parents probably didn’t want to bring it up, let alone have it be brought up to them.
Both teens knew their parents weren’t the type to do it out of malice, that was the one comfort for this. But they wanted the truth. So, it needed to be addressed before the school week resumed.
Each one started the same way with their parents. Asking to speak to their parents in the living room with a bit of printed out information. And for both teens, their parents knew the jig was up the second they saw the papers.
“There were...” one of them would start. The similar story being matched up later. “Complications.” That wasn’t surprising, even if it was before the practice was completely limited to emergencies, swapping infant bodies was used as an attempt to save children.
What no one expected was a mathematic formula of how convoluted the entire procedure was so no laws were violated and all parties involved were kept healthy.
“So... where did the clown come in?” the teens asked, very confused as they looked at pictures taken of the entire procedure.
“The doctor was on call and didn’t have time to wipe the makeup off.” The parents responded, admittedly realizing how bizarre that situation was in hindsight. “It was... a bigger mess than they thought.”
“How many kids were involved in this?” the teens asked, wondering how much of their bodies were on a technical level someone else's.
“We needed at least seven, it was a lot of parts being changed due to blood types and compatibility.” the parents said, taking some time to get the documents out for their kid to look over. “It... was tricky to bring up, and we’re sorry we didn’t tell you sooner.”
“Thanks.” both teens said, looking at the forms.
“So why was I a guy then?” Aaron asked.
“Why a girl?” Miranda asked.
“That... is just how it shook out to be honest.” the parents responded. Trying to find any documents that could help them or their child. “Those parts had to be changed from other kids, and we agreed that if you wanted to change. Well. We'd support you.”
“I need to think on this.” both teens said, turning down the offer of hugs as they went to their rooms.
“How’d yours go?” Aaron asked, trying to not have a kneejerk response. “I... need to think on what to do.”
“Smoother than I expected.” Miranda replied a few minutes later. “Take some time to think, I already know what I want to do.”
“Already?” Aaron responded, frankly surprised his crush had a plan already. “Lucky. No wonder you get better grades.”
“Hey, I can always help you study after this.” Miranda responded. “Just, need to not freeze up when we speak.”
“Yeah, that makes it harder.” Aaron replied.
They went to bed soon after that, with Miranda already knowing what he wanted to do. He fell asleep within a few minutes. Aaron was struggling more, he... didn’t hate his body, but the idea of being a girl was too exciting to deny. Even if they both knew their bodies didn’t affect what their genders were.
It was the most awkward breakfast the next morning. Mostly since the parents were, frankly, expecting more than a quiet acknowledgment of what happened. But the morning went like most others, a tired good morning, breakfast, and both teens sitting in their rooms afterwards.
“I want to swap some things back with you.” Aaron wrote, sending the email before self-doubt could stop it. The teen waited for a while, or rather, what felt like a while. The seconds crawled by with a brutal lack of urgency.
“I was thinking the same thing,” Miranda wrote back. His email response only pausing as he tried to think of something. “Call me Joey now, by the way.”
“So, we’re on the same page,” Aaron responded. “Why Joey?”
“Dunno, seemed to fit.”
“Fair.” Aaron laughed, not bothering with the beating around the bush of trying to justify mistakes on his name. “You seem really prepared for this.”
“Hey, if we get this figured out then we don’t need to worry about it later.” Joey’s response had a big thumbs up on it. “Plus, did your parents have those forms? Mine did and I read through them with breakfast. We can schedule a change easily.”
“Couldn’t focus, but that’s good to know.” Aaron responded, the idea of what names she would pick from were starting to bubble up. “How soon?”
“Next weekend is open to schedule.” Joey replied, sending the website and needed formed. “We just need to agree on what’s being changed.”
“Want your shoulders back?” Aaron said, including a gif of a dog laughing. “Do we have to do this all-in-one go?”
“Hey, it’ll work better for me.” Joey responded. “And I don’t think so? One of my dad's mentioned it could take a couple sessions to get it right.” there was a sigh of relief from Aaron at that. Even if Joey wanted to rush forward, it didn’t sound like he was going to force Aaron to do the same.
“Screw it,” he replied after downloading the forms. “I want the longer hair.”
“Shoulders for hair? Sounds like a fair trade,” was the response. “Anything else?”
“Take my testosterone, please.” Was Aaron’s reply. “And why aren’t we using a chat room?”
“Didn’t think of it,” was Joeys response. Both teens swapping to a chatroom to hash out what was going to be swapped with what.
The parents weren’t ecstatic about it being done, but thankfully if it was reversable now, it would be reversable later. The appointments were made, documents were signed and the next weekend, both teens were ready to go.
Frankly, the procedure had machines right out of a horror movie. But both teens soon were unconscious, and everything started to go to work. Mass was transferred, body shape was altered, and those weird cramps you get in your feet were dealt with.
This was the first time they did this. A general one to allow them to see what they wanted to keep.
Joey loved the fact that now he wasn’t expected to wear skirts. He did so anyway because an entirely new closet of clothes was expensive, and it annoyed people. His hair was short and rough when they both came out of the first session.
Aaron was still picking out her name and had to fight her dads and Joey’s parents to get a dress that no longer fit her crush. Instead of the short buzzcut for simplicities sake, she was now sporting long blonde and pink hair. Right down to her shoulders.
“So...” Aaron started, expecting her voice to give out like it had before when talking to Joey in person. “...what now?” it had been three weeks since the first swap, everything had healed, and Joey had already swooned over Aaron suplexing a bully at school. “I still... like you.”
“Well, we can figure that out.” Joey had grinned, getting Aaron to blush at his smile. “How do you feel about your, old body? I guess?”
“it’s familiar?” Aaron said, trying to hide her blush. “But... not too familiar? Like I can grow into it.” she looked at her hands, a little shocked at how much softer her features had been becoming. Even after the swap her features just got smoother. A doctor mentioned her body was going to be overcompensating for a while on balancing her hormones out.
“Same, I wonder if I'll get taller?” Joey laughed, taking advantage of Aaron looking at her hands to let himself blush. He was definitely feeling the same side effects of the transfer. A level of machismo was hitting him, and aside from noticing girls more, he swore he could take a bear in a fight.
Apparently, this was a near universal male instinct to try and think of an animal they could beat up. Even if logic said they would lose. But it definitely felt better for him as a person. School had been going well, their friends were just glad the awkward teen romance could move past the awkward stage more than worrying about their genders and bodies.
Also seeing the first person to try and start shit wind up with a bloody nose was a very good deterrent. Especially since it was at the first provocation, no one would mess with someone if there was an immediate consequence for doing so.
But the school year went on, and despite the awkward phase staying far longer than anyone would’ve predicted. Eventually Aaron chose Dot as a new name, Joey was still dressing in any way he wanted, skirts and dresses some days but jeans and tank tops other days.
A walking middle finger to the people who still would hold onto his pronouns determining how he was allowed to dress. Meanwhile Dot was going all in on femme fashion, her dads even ordering frilly fancy Lolita style dresses that she would wear on weekends while playing games. The dissonance between her playing Doom and dressed like she was supposed to be a princess was something Joey couldn’t get enough of.
And that was something that, after literally so many events that should’ve pushed them together, it happened at the last possible moment of high school. With their friends celebrating just for the mental relief of not having to picture the two dumbasses not being together when they should've been.
The cream pies being thrown at them was definitely their revenge for the years of indecisiveness after an immediate connection. Everyone was laughing as pie filling was being cleaned off the pair, their friend groups ribbing them endlessly as they finally had their first kiss.
At least, first one that didn’t result in literal butting heads due to a height difference. Or a phone going of, or any other number of perfectly timed mood killers. Both of them were, frankly, happier, even if they didn’t realize they were unhappy before. The weight of discomfort they’d both been experiencing hadn’t bothered them for the last years of high school, and they certainly weren’t going to bother them in the future.
“So... what next?” Dot said, still picking bits of pie out of her pink and blonde hair. She didn’t even remember what she asked her natural hair color to be at this point. “More school? Work?”
“How about an actual first date,” Joey chuckled, knowing his prom suit and dress were going to have stains on them for years. “Unless you want to count when I schooled you at the arcade?”
“You mean where I kicked your ass?” Dot teased, flicking a bit of pie off her dress onto Joey’s shoes. “Someone doesn’t remember how many tokens you spent on me.”
“Fine, rematch!” Joey laughed, sending a bit of pie back at Dot. “And then a date!”
“Works for me!” Dot laughed as they resumed the pie slinging until they were forcibly stopped by their parents.
Technology was ever advancing, allowing modifications and things that were once only dreamed of in science fiction. While it wasn’t for the most ethical of reasons, eventually the technology to transfer consciousness between human bodies was created, decommissioned, re-commissioned and tested.
Naturally, the science and technology behind the body swapping was used primarily to assist people with mismatched bodies in some way or another. Though that was only recently. For a longer than it should’ve been time, some people used it when their child wasn’t quite as they were expecting. Parents who wanted a son would often swap with parents who wanted a daughter, and vice versa.
This naturally was stopped as soon as possible. The ramifications to a child’s mental health were too high risk. Especially if they found out what had happened to them as infants. Now, exceptions were made for the health of the infant, but naturally this allowed things to slip through the cracks.
However, by the miracle of humanity pulling its collective head out of its collective ass for once, there were no scars and if a child did go through the process, it was reversable. So, now that the process had become commonplace, everyone was likely to know someone who had at least part of their body swapped. Some used it in place of difficult surgeries, some used it for fun.
But that was the reality of today. In year 20XX where humanity had managed to make something cool for once. The concept of the self was more malleable than it had ever been, more flexible and fluid. Humans were their own playthings now, at least to a point.
But for some, there was a feeling that something wasn’t right. Not in the traditional sense of dysphoria or dysmorphia, those were now easily solvable, but in the sense that something wasn’t as it should’ve been. That nagging feeling of discomfort was just something that Aaron couldn’t shake. At home, at school or anywhere really.
The teenager had initially chalked it up to those awkward growing pains. Since he couldn’t place the discomfort, he had chosen to ignore it. But it was still there, ever present in the back of his mind, and nothing he tried was helping.
At least in school he could distract himself by trying to pay attention to science lectures in class. They weren’t boring by any means; it was just the same things repeated day in and day out. So, he let his eyes wander, his mind following suit, and it settled on someone else in the room.
A girl just a few desks away from him. Miranda was her name and as Aaron’s friends would tease him about. He was down bad. If he wasn’t trying to deal with whatever was going on with that nagging discomfort. He was trying to think of what games Miranda liked, or what she would want to do if he asked her out and said yes.
Miranda, however, was doing the same thing Aaron was. At least she would if having an eye on the back of your head was still legal. They had exchanged exactly one sentence with each other, both teens could remember it perfectly.
“Charizard is overrated.” Aaron had said during one of the many times a teacher had been running late. Which Miranda has overheard.
“Yeah, Blastoise is better.” she had responded, both nodded at each other, then went back to their own business. If clichés were able to physically manifest, it was love at first nerd. It had been over a year since then and they had managed to accidentally pick most of the same classes.
Eventually their friends had had enough and got them sitting right across from each other one lunch time. Hoping that this would actually let them talk to one another. The awkward teen romance was becoming hell for everyone, as even that attempt barely got them talking to each other.
“I don’t know...” Miranda said to one of her friends after another attempt at this. “It feels like... something’s off?”
“I don’t know why?” Aaron said, mirroring that sentiment with his own friends. “Whenever I try to talk the words get stuck in my throat. It’s really annoying.”
“You’re telling me,” Their friends would say, but eventually the attempts stopped. If it was going to happen it would just have to rely on them not getting stuck on what to say. So, they stopped, and eventually say them ever so slowly say more than single word answers to one another.
“Hey...” Aaron eventually said, managing to get words out of his throat. “You uh, look good?’ Miranda looked at him with a million-yard stare in response, like something had just forcefully inserted a Lego brick under her foot.
“Thanks...” she responded, trying her best to not blush. “You, too.” her response got a similar feeling out of Aaron, and neither of them knew why. It just made it more awkward, if that was even possible.
They tried again, but both had that same strange feeling. Not that either of them was hiding something, but something that matched up with that strange discomfort in the back of their minds. Each time they tried to talk outside of a class they just froze.
“Why can’t we talk?” Aaron had written on a note, trying to see if that was going to cause the same thing. He slid it over to Miranda and got a response back.
“No idea, maybe it’s something about our voices?” the note said, with a little drawing of a shrugging cat under it.
“it’s the only thing that makes sense I guess?” Aaron wrote back. The thought of their voices throwing them off was a possibility, but a weird one at that. The bell rang before they could try to piece anything else together, meaning they had to try and focus for the last class of the day.
That night however, both teens decided to look into things. The idea of their voices triggering something uncomfortable was too weird of an idea to shake. A couple hours of searching online brought them to the same conclusion.
“Body and Aspect Swapping. If the process is done incorrectly or too early, the recipients of the swap may experience mild to severe anxiety when meeting with the recipient of the traded aspects.” several articles reported on. The idea of having it done too early was a strange one, but that’s what the restrictions on the process were for. Though, the dates were strange, and both of the teens realized it and opened their emails.
“Did we switch bodies?” they both sent within seconds of the other. “Holy crap we did, didn’t we?”
“Does that mean I was a guy?” Miranda said, not hating the idea and finding some comfort in it that she didn’t quite understand yet.
“I was a girl? Awesome!” Aaron said, something in the back of his mind clicking at that revelation. They quickly started sharing that detail to one another in emails, back and forth. They agreed that this was just something they would’ve found out sooner or later but needed to think of what to do. After all, their parents probably didn’t want to bring it up, let alone have it be brought up to them.
Both teens knew their parents weren’t the type to do it out of malice, that was the one comfort for this. But they wanted the truth. So, it needed to be addressed before the school week resumed.
Each one started the same way with their parents. Asking to speak to their parents in the living room with a bit of printed out information. And for both teens, their parents knew the jig was up the second they saw the papers.
“There were...” one of them would start. The similar story being matched up later. “Complications.” That wasn’t surprising, even if it was before the practice was completely limited to emergencies, swapping infant bodies was used as an attempt to save children.
What no one expected was a mathematic formula of how convoluted the entire procedure was so no laws were violated and all parties involved were kept healthy.
“So... where did the clown come in?” the teens asked, very confused as they looked at pictures taken of the entire procedure.
“The doctor was on call and didn’t have time to wipe the makeup off.” The parents responded, admittedly realizing how bizarre that situation was in hindsight. “It was... a bigger mess than they thought.”
“How many kids were involved in this?” the teens asked, wondering how much of their bodies were on a technical level someone else's.
“We needed at least seven, it was a lot of parts being changed due to blood types and compatibility.” the parents said, taking some time to get the documents out for their kid to look over. “It... was tricky to bring up, and we’re sorry we didn’t tell you sooner.”
“Thanks.” both teens said, looking at the forms.
“So why was I a guy then?” Aaron asked.
“Why a girl?” Miranda asked.
“That... is just how it shook out to be honest.” the parents responded. Trying to find any documents that could help them or their child. “Those parts had to be changed from other kids, and we agreed that if you wanted to change. Well. We'd support you.”
“I need to think on this.” both teens said, turning down the offer of hugs as they went to their rooms.
“How’d yours go?” Aaron asked, trying to not have a kneejerk response. “I... need to think on what to do.”
“Smoother than I expected.” Miranda replied a few minutes later. “Take some time to think, I already know what I want to do.”
“Already?” Aaron responded, frankly surprised his crush had a plan already. “Lucky. No wonder you get better grades.”
“Hey, I can always help you study after this.” Miranda responded. “Just, need to not freeze up when we speak.”
“Yeah, that makes it harder.” Aaron replied.
They went to bed soon after that, with Miranda already knowing what he wanted to do. He fell asleep within a few minutes. Aaron was struggling more, he... didn’t hate his body, but the idea of being a girl was too exciting to deny. Even if they both knew their bodies didn’t affect what their genders were.
It was the most awkward breakfast the next morning. Mostly since the parents were, frankly, expecting more than a quiet acknowledgment of what happened. But the morning went like most others, a tired good morning, breakfast, and both teens sitting in their rooms afterwards.
“I want to swap some things back with you.” Aaron wrote, sending the email before self-doubt could stop it. The teen waited for a while, or rather, what felt like a while. The seconds crawled by with a brutal lack of urgency.
“I was thinking the same thing,” Miranda wrote back. His email response only pausing as he tried to think of something. “Call me Joey now, by the way.”
“So, we’re on the same page,” Aaron responded. “Why Joey?”
“Dunno, seemed to fit.”
“Fair.” Aaron laughed, not bothering with the beating around the bush of trying to justify mistakes on his name. “You seem really prepared for this.”
“Hey, if we get this figured out then we don’t need to worry about it later.” Joey’s response had a big thumbs up on it. “Plus, did your parents have those forms? Mine did and I read through them with breakfast. We can schedule a change easily.”
“Couldn’t focus, but that’s good to know.” Aaron responded, the idea of what names she would pick from were starting to bubble up. “How soon?”
“Next weekend is open to schedule.” Joey replied, sending the website and needed formed. “We just need to agree on what’s being changed.”
“Want your shoulders back?” Aaron said, including a gif of a dog laughing. “Do we have to do this all-in-one go?”
“Hey, it’ll work better for me.” Joey responded. “And I don’t think so? One of my dad's mentioned it could take a couple sessions to get it right.” there was a sigh of relief from Aaron at that. Even if Joey wanted to rush forward, it didn’t sound like he was going to force Aaron to do the same.
“Screw it,” he replied after downloading the forms. “I want the longer hair.”
“Shoulders for hair? Sounds like a fair trade,” was the response. “Anything else?”
“Take my testosterone, please.” Was Aaron’s reply. “And why aren’t we using a chat room?”
“Didn’t think of it,” was Joeys response. Both teens swapping to a chatroom to hash out what was going to be swapped with what.
The parents weren’t ecstatic about it being done, but thankfully if it was reversable now, it would be reversable later. The appointments were made, documents were signed and the next weekend, both teens were ready to go.
Frankly, the procedure had machines right out of a horror movie. But both teens soon were unconscious, and everything started to go to work. Mass was transferred, body shape was altered, and those weird cramps you get in your feet were dealt with.
This was the first time they did this. A general one to allow them to see what they wanted to keep.
Joey loved the fact that now he wasn’t expected to wear skirts. He did so anyway because an entirely new closet of clothes was expensive, and it annoyed people. His hair was short and rough when they both came out of the first session.
Aaron was still picking out her name and had to fight her dads and Joey’s parents to get a dress that no longer fit her crush. Instead of the short buzzcut for simplicities sake, she was now sporting long blonde and pink hair. Right down to her shoulders.
“So...” Aaron started, expecting her voice to give out like it had before when talking to Joey in person. “...what now?” it had been three weeks since the first swap, everything had healed, and Joey had already swooned over Aaron suplexing a bully at school. “I still... like you.”
“Well, we can figure that out.” Joey had grinned, getting Aaron to blush at his smile. “How do you feel about your, old body? I guess?”
“it’s familiar?” Aaron said, trying to hide her blush. “But... not too familiar? Like I can grow into it.” she looked at her hands, a little shocked at how much softer her features had been becoming. Even after the swap her features just got smoother. A doctor mentioned her body was going to be overcompensating for a while on balancing her hormones out.
“Same, I wonder if I'll get taller?” Joey laughed, taking advantage of Aaron looking at her hands to let himself blush. He was definitely feeling the same side effects of the transfer. A level of machismo was hitting him, and aside from noticing girls more, he swore he could take a bear in a fight.
Apparently, this was a near universal male instinct to try and think of an animal they could beat up. Even if logic said they would lose. But it definitely felt better for him as a person. School had been going well, their friends were just glad the awkward teen romance could move past the awkward stage more than worrying about their genders and bodies.
Also seeing the first person to try and start shit wind up with a bloody nose was a very good deterrent. Especially since it was at the first provocation, no one would mess with someone if there was an immediate consequence for doing so.
But the school year went on, and despite the awkward phase staying far longer than anyone would’ve predicted. Eventually Aaron chose Dot as a new name, Joey was still dressing in any way he wanted, skirts and dresses some days but jeans and tank tops other days.
A walking middle finger to the people who still would hold onto his pronouns determining how he was allowed to dress. Meanwhile Dot was going all in on femme fashion, her dads even ordering frilly fancy Lolita style dresses that she would wear on weekends while playing games. The dissonance between her playing Doom and dressed like she was supposed to be a princess was something Joey couldn’t get enough of.
And that was something that, after literally so many events that should’ve pushed them together, it happened at the last possible moment of high school. With their friends celebrating just for the mental relief of not having to picture the two dumbasses not being together when they should've been.
The cream pies being thrown at them was definitely their revenge for the years of indecisiveness after an immediate connection. Everyone was laughing as pie filling was being cleaned off the pair, their friend groups ribbing them endlessly as they finally had their first kiss.
At least, first one that didn’t result in literal butting heads due to a height difference. Or a phone going of, or any other number of perfectly timed mood killers. Both of them were, frankly, happier, even if they didn’t realize they were unhappy before. The weight of discomfort they’d both been experiencing hadn’t bothered them for the last years of high school, and they certainly weren’t going to bother them in the future.
“So... what next?” Dot said, still picking bits of pie out of her pink and blonde hair. She didn’t even remember what she asked her natural hair color to be at this point. “More school? Work?”
“How about an actual first date,” Joey chuckled, knowing his prom suit and dress were going to have stains on them for years. “Unless you want to count when I schooled you at the arcade?”
“You mean where I kicked your ass?” Dot teased, flicking a bit of pie off her dress onto Joey’s shoes. “Someone doesn’t remember how many tokens you spent on me.”
“Fine, rematch!” Joey laughed, sending a bit of pie back at Dot. “And then a date!”
“Works for me!” Dot laughed as they resumed the pie slinging until they were forcibly stopped by their parents.
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What if athletes could compete in a body perfectly designed for their sport? What if the same athletes had to compete again in a randomly-asssigned body?
In the not-too-distant future, technology has advanced to allow people to experience life in any body of their choosing, then return to their own body after six hours. Athletes compete in body-swapping sports to test their skills, their athletic intelligence, and the genetic limits of the human body.
As usual, the tingling subsided as soon as Zella stepped out of the chamber. She looked down over her new body - well by now, she’d spent so much time in this body, pushing it to its physical limits, the lines were starting to blur between this body and her own. She studied her hands.
“You know what,” she said carefully. “Let’s do the longer fingers.”
“You sure?” asked Nix. “These are the ones I gave you for the time trials yesterday.”
“Yep. I was thinking about it last night. They didn't feel quite right.”
Zella turned on her heels and clicked the door to the chamber open again.
“Zel, this isn’t the time to play around,” her coach, Liza, said sternly from over Nix’s shoulder. “Your career is on the line.”
“I’m sure.” Zella said confidently as she lay down on the chamber’s smooth white bench. “Change the fingers.”
Nix tapped on the projection display in front of him and the chamber’s machinery whirred. Zella felt the familiar pins and needles, but only in her fingers this time. Finally, the whirring stopped and the door’s lock clicked open again.
“Perfect,” Zella said, admiring Nix’s work. “Let’s go.”
As Zella, Nix and Liza wove their way through the smooth, gray halls of the stadium’s interior, Zella took deep breaths to calm her anxiety. There was so much at stake. Sure, she’d been a world champion several times over, but the Olympics was a different thing altogether. Earning a cobalt medal at the centuries-old games, could mean lucrative sponsorships, projector broadcasts around the world, becoming a household name. 2084 was only the third year that body decathlon was recognized as an official olympic event, so there wasn’t much precedent to look to for clues about what today’s competition might be like.
Zella was one of the last to arrive at the track. Most of the other athletes were already warming up their competition bodies. Zella scanned the crowd until she locked eyes with Ji Yoon Kim. She instantly recognized the intimidating scowl that the United Korean Peninsula athlete chose for her competition body’s face. The grimace had become something of a calling card and Zella had seen Ji Yoon’s fans wearing caricatures of it on t-shirts.
Ji Yoon and Zella had been neck and neck in the standings for the last two years, alternating first and second place at other world-class body decathlons. Winning the olympic cobalt would solidify one of them as the reigning champion. Zella had sighed with relief when she found out she’d beat Ji Yoon at the time trials yesterday, although it was only by half a second.
Ji Yoon shot Zella a nod of recognition, then went back to bending straight down over her competitive body’s long, muscular legs. Zella noticed that she’d chosen to fill out her body’s shoulders a tiny bit since yesterday. Smart move. She’d seen Ji Yoon lagging a bit during the boulder carry at time trials.
The announcer’s voice sounded through the stadium ordering the athletes to take their places at the starting gates. Cheers roared around the building. Zella scanned the stands looking for Americanadian flags. It was hard to believe that so much time had passed since the civil war, that the Americanadian team could sit right next to the Dixieland team with no violence.
She spotted her family sitting in the front row of the balcony, decked-out in maple leaves and stripes. She caught her wife, Charelle’s eye and blew her a kiss. Her sister, Malya and twelve-year-old nephew, Kit waved excitedly, their faces painted red white and blue. Zella beamed, she knew it’d been difficult for her sister and nephew to travel and she was so grateful to see them there.
Zella took a deep, calming breath as she pushed her feet up against the starting blocks. The organizers had placed her and Ji Yoon beside each other in the center of the track. Zella willed herself not to peek over at her rival
“On your marks,” spoke the announcer through the speakers.
“Get set.” Zella tucked her chin.
“Go!”
Zella breezed through the 200-meter dash, Ji Yoon right beside her. The two of them pulled slightly ahead of the rest of the pack. They worked the sinewy legs of their competition bodies until they reached a sprinting speed of almost thirty miles an hour. They passed the 200-meter finish line and kept sprinting down the track towards the climbing wall. Zella saw Liza waiting with the harness ready.
“You’re doing great,” Liza whispered as she fastened Zella’s buckles. “Remember, clear mind, think only about the competition at hand.”
Zella nodded and hooked her foot into the first rung of the 50-foot wall climb. She pushed up on her competition body’s strong feet and began to ascend. The long, slender fingers Nix built for her were stretching perfectly to reach the holds in the rock. Much better than yesterday. Zella silently celebrated her smart decision as she looked down and saw Ji Yoon climbing ten feet below her.
She focused on the wall, pushing her competition body to move up the rocks as quickly as possible. Zella executed movements she’d never dream of achieving in her natural 45-year-old woman’s body. The proliferation of body swapping sports had been a gift for older athletes and female athletes like Zella. Suddenly, she could compete in a situation where her athletic intelligence was the most important factor, as opposed to her body’s physical traits.
CRISPR, the technology that supported body-swapping sports, had matured in the late 2030s, but it hadn’t been used for recreation until the last decade. When it was first developed, the changes CRISPR made to human DNA were unpredictable. A CRISPR mutation that was meant to cure Multiple Sclerosis left the patient with limb paralysis. A treatment for blindness also caused seizures. Not only were these changes permanent and irreversible, scientists were shocked to find that the mutations lived on into the children of these patients and into the next generation as well.
After some time, CRISPR technology became more precise, but the process was still prohibitively expensive. For the next two decades it was reserved for curing debilitating diseases. Of course there were debates over the ethics of using CRISPR to make yourself taller or more attractive, but these were mostly theoretical. The long-term side effects were still unknown, so people were wary of using it to give themselves bigger breasts or bluer eyes.
In the 2070s, however, a breakthrough made the CRISPR process much faster and more affordable, but the DNA changes made using this method wore off after six hours. The impermanent results almost made this technique even more exciting. A revolution in body experimentation began.
People harnessed the technology for sexual adventures and movie stunts. It was used to help the elderly regain mobility. CRISPR salons sprung up where customers could alter their appearances before a night out on the town. It became illegal to seduce another person in a CRISPR body without disclosure.
The technology was life-changing for the trans and gender-fluid community. Suddenly, trans people could experience life within the exact bodies they were meant to have. This was how Zella’s body designer, Nix, began their career. Every morning and afternoon, Nix stepped into the CRISPR chamber and came out in their androgynous body, expertly fine-tuned after years of tweaks to its programming. Zella knew that it must break their heart to have the changes wear off overnight.
People quickly discovered CRISPR’s profound implications for sports. Most major leagues banned the technology, but side leagues popped up almost immediately. Spectators were fascinated to see what a body perfectly designed for basketball could achieve on the court. And sports like the body decathlon were invented to test the overall limits of the human body.
.
Zella caught a glimpse of her competition face’s triumphant grin on the stadium’s huge projection screen as she rang the bell at the top of the climbing wall. She was comfortably in the lead now, but she chided herself for the display of arrogance as she repelled down. There were still three other events in today’s race - this wasn’t the time to become complacent.
“Great work,” said Liza as she unclipped Zella’s harness. “Keep it steady on the uneven bars. Remember, elbows straight on the spin. You got this.”
Zella nodded with gratitude. She would never stop being impressed by Liza’s versatility as a coach. Like most other elite body decathletes, Zella worked with specialized coaches for each event. It was crucial to have a head coach like Liza who could pull all the events together. Event coaches always pushed the body designer for tweaks that benefited their own sport. The 200-meter dash coach wants long legs, the boulder carry coach wants bulky arms. Liza was well-versed enough that she knew which adjustments would be detrimental to other events. It was Liza’s direction that led Nix to fine-tune Zella’s competition body to work well for everything.
Zella took a deep breath as she chalked her hands for the uneven bar routine. Of all the events, this one challenged her the most. Each athlete had to complete a pre-set gymnastics routine under a referee's watchful eye. There were no extra points given for perfect form, but certain mistakes could mean disqualification. In every body decathlon, several athletes were usually removed due to a missed catch or a single flip instead of a double. Zella spent months practicing the uneven bars with an olympic gymnast’s physique, barely coming close to completing a successful routine. Her own body was nowhere near flexible enough to execute any of the stunts, so it felt unnatural to trust that her competition body would bend that way.
Zella hopped up to grab the high bar, swung up into a handstand and leapt into her first catch on the low bar. It was going well today. The trick felt good, as natural as walking down the street.
Now for the combination. This was always the toughest to execute. The competition body needed long limbs for climbing and running. These weren’t ideal for gymnastics. Zella had suffered a few embarrassing early-career disqualifications for awkwardly whacking her foot against the bar.
She swung into a pike position, bending her legs up towards her face until the tops of her thighs made contact with the bar. For a moment, she panicked that she might lose her balance, but no, just as she’d done a thousand times in practice, she executed a graceful leap to catch the high bar again. Relief washed over Zella as she completed the final spin around the high bar into a perfect double backflip dismount. The worst was over.
Zella was still in first place, with Ji Yoon on her tail. The Australian, Japanese and South American Republic athletes were close behind. They rounded the track to take their seats at the sewing table. The roar of the crowd always hushed to a whisper at this part of the competition. Fans collectively held their breath to watch close-ups of the athletes’ fingers on the projection screen.
Zella completed her first of twenty stitches, right through the middle of the guideline. It had taken her years to learn how to keep her hands from shaking after the demands of the wall climb and the uneven bars.
As Zella sewed, the long fingers that had been such a boon during the wall climb were feeling more and more like a bad decision. Zella and Ji Yoon were seated next to each other, so she could see that her foe was already completing her tenth stitch, while she had only finished four.
A thunderous gasp rang through the stadium. Zella couldn’t help but look up from her work to catch a glance at the projection screen. She saw a close-up of the Australian athlete’s needle popping through the fabric, ever-so-slightly outside the guideline. This meant instant disqualification. Zella’s heart sank with pity, she’d met the Australian athlete last month at the world championships and liked her.
She narrowed her eyes to focus on her own sewing, She could not afford a similar mistake. Ji Yoon was nearly at the end of the guideline now, how was she going so fast? Zella silently cursed herself for her last-minute choice to lengthen her body’s fingers.
Ji Yoon held her completed stitches over her head triumphantly and raced towards the final event. Zella still had four stitches to go. Finally, after what felt like eons, Zella’s needle made its twentieth stitch. She threw the fabric aside and launched herself up from the table.
The body decathlon’s final event was the boulder carry. Ten rocks of increasing weight had to be moved from one basket to another ten feet away. Most athletes went from lightest to heaviest, but Zella preferred to move the heaviest boulder in the middle to avoid getting too fatigued to lift it.
Ji Yoon was already on her third boulder by the time she arrived, so Zella worked quickly to catch up. She had to resist working too quickly, however, as she knew that any injury made to her competition body would show up on her own body as well.
As Zella heaved the heaviest boulder into the second basket, she saw that Ji Yoon was nearly done, with only two boulders left. Of course, Ji Yoon still had her heaviest boulder to go, while Zella had already taken care of hers. It was hard to tell who was in the lead.
Zella passed Ji Yoon carrying her next boulder, but she still had two more left, while Ji Yoon only had one. The fans in the crowd were all on their feet cheering now. Zella raced back to grab her last boulder. Her rival was almost finished. She’d nearly caught up just as Ji Yoon was tipping her last boulder into the basket. The buzzer sounded. Ji Yoon had finished the day’s events 0.7 seconds ahead of her.
Zella hung her head with disappointment. She remembered that the projection cameras were focused on her, so she tried to remain stoic.
Liza appeared by her side and patted her on the shoulder.
“It’s OK, Zel,” she said. “It’s not over yet. There’s still tomorrow.”
—--------------------------
The next morning, the sun was just beginning to rise as Zella and Liza walked through the belly of the stadium to meet Nix at the Americanadian CRISPR chamber.
Nix had already received the olympic committee’s instructions to program today’s body and they were hunched over the machine, entering commands into the control panel. Yesterday, the athletes competed in their own unique competition bodies, but today they would all compete using the same randomly-assigned body. This posed a different test of athletic intelligence; how well could each athlete adapt to a less-than-ideal physique?
To prepare her for this part of the competition, Zella’s training regimen alternated bodies each day. On Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, she practiced in her ideal competition body. On Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays, Nix threw her whatever challenge he could think of - seven-foot-tall bodies, three-foot-tall bodies, toddlers, 75-year-olds, amputees, cancer patients with painful tumors that inhibited her movements, 300-pound bodies, 75-pound bodies - you name it.
The only limits set by the Body Decathlon Federation were that the bodies had to exist within the genetic limits of humanity and they had to theoretically be able to complete the competition. Infants and bodies with extremely low mobility were a no-go.
Zella and Liza waited for Nix to complete the programming instructions, rocking from foot to foot with anticipation. Nix was taking longer than usual today.
“You okay Nix?” asked Liza.
They furrowed their brow. “Um… yep. Almost done, I think.”
“We’ve got lots of time, so don’t rush.” Liza assured them.
“Mhm,” they grunted, running their hands over their chin-length hair nervously as they squinted at the control panel. This confusion was uncharacteristic of Nix. Zella had been working with them for nearly five years and she’d never seen anything phase them.
“Okay. Ready.” Nix finally said and pressed the button that opened the chamber’s door.
Zella entered, the machinery whirred and she felt the tingling rush throughout her body. After twenty minutes, the door clicked open and she stepped out into the room.
Liza and Nix took Zella’s new body in. “A ten-year-old boy?” Liza said, dumbfounded.
Zella looked down and patted her new hands up and down her new body’s smooth chest. “Really? So easy.”
Four years ago, the day-two body at the Olympics had been a fifty-year-old woman with severe scoliosis. Zella was expecting something more challenging. Sure, children’s lack of fine motor control made sewing more difficult and the boulders would be challenging, but overall, a ten-year-old’s body would be a cinch.
Liza shrugged. “If that’s what the instructions said, I’m not going to argue. Let’s go to the field.”
The team moved towards the doorway. Nix drew in their breath as if they wanted to say something. Liza and Zella whirled around.
“What is it, Nix?” Zella asked.
“Um… it’s just... “ Nix looked conflicted. Their eyes darted back and forth between Zella and Liza. “Never mind.”
“If you made a mistake programming the body, now is the time to say so. We can still go back and fix it.” Liza said sternly.
“No, it’s not that at all,” they promised. “It’s nothing. Let’s go.”
Liza rolled her eyes and the three of them began to walk briskly towards the track.
Zella’s team arrived at the starting gates. Now, the only visual difference between the athletes were the flags on their uniforms. Zella always thought it strange that she was a world-famous athlete, but her fans never saw her real face when she competed. Zella saw that most of the other athletes and coaches wore the same bewildered expression at the assignment of the ten-year-old’s body.
Again, the announcer called the athletes to take their places. Zella and Ji Yoon nodded their identical faces towards each other as they lined up at their blocks.
“On your marks…” the announcer called. “Get set… Go!”
The athletes launched into the 200-meter dash. Zella felt her heart rate speed up as she ran. It was more intense than usual, like her heart was about to leap up into her throat. She compensated by taking bigger, gulping breaths into her diaphragm.
Although the body’s heart was racing, its other muscles felt slower than they should, as if she was trying to run under water. She was at the front of the pack, but she didn’t feel like she was performing at her peak. Ji Yoon raced just behind her, also gasping for air.
As Zella and Ji Yoon crossed the 200-meter finish line, a loud gasp resounded around the stadium. Zella glanced backwards to see that the Japanese athlete had tripped and fallen mid-race. Falls during the uneven bars were common, but a fall during the sprint was unheard of. Something about today’s body was not as it seemed.
“Keep your head in the game,” Liza reminded Zella as she fastened her climbing harness.
Zella began scaling the wall. She made what should have been an easy reach for a hold above her head, but found that her hand missed its target. Her legs refused to push straight up off the footholds. She began to take smaller steps, using rungs that were close together. Her heart continued to pound as she climbed. She wondered if Nix had made a mistake in the programming. But if that were true, all the other athletes would be ahead of her by now and she was still leading the pack by a hair.
After several agonizing minutes of struggle, Zella rang the bell at the top of the wall. She looked up at her family in the stands and saw her nephew, Kit staring down at her, his eyes wide with shock.
The moment she locked eyes with Kit, she knew.
Her mind flashed back over memories of anxious, late-night phone calls with her sister, Malya. The hours they’d spent poring over clinical test reports, trying to decipher the doctors’ notes on Kit’s condition. CRISPR treatments had improved his prognosis, but they couldn’t cure him entirely. He still lived with the unique challenge of having a neuromuscular disability that was invisible at first glance. Malya worried he’d be bullied on the playground for his clumsiness. People were always confused as to why he couldn’t do the same physical activities as his classmates.
Zella realized that today’s competition body must be burdened with a neuromuscular disease similar to Kit’s. As she repelled down the wall, she mulled over what to do with this information. She guessed that most of the other contestants hadn’t caught on yet and would continue to use the body as if it were a typical ten-year-old’s. She could use this to her advantage.
“Something seems off today, but keep pushing,” Liza said as she unfastened Zella’s harness. Ji Yoon had also just made it down the wall, so they were tied for first.
“I got this.” Zella nodded confidently and jogged away from the climbing wall towards the next event.
The gymnastics event at day two of the body decathlon took place on a balance beam instead of the uneven bars. The upper-body strength required to complete the uneven bar routine was too difficult for most bodies. Still, Zella knew she’d have to be cautious.
She clenched her muscles and pushed herself up onto the beam. Pausing for a moment, she considered how she might complete the first spin. She decided to copy a technique she’d seen Kit use on the playground. She took a deep breath in and focused her eyes on a spot in front of her before attempting the trick. Slowly and carefully, Zella executed the move. Success. Only two more moves to go.
She rose to her feet and lifted her arms over her head. Now for the split jump. Remembering that there were no points given for perfect form, Zella completed the smallest amount of movement allowed. Even then, she had to strain against the cramps in her legs and she wobbled as she landed on the beam.
All around her, other athletes were falling off their beams and disqualifying themselves. Beside her, Ji Yoon wind-milled her arms, nearly losing her balance after the leap.
Last was the cartwheel dismount. She recalled the summer when Kit first received his diagnosis. One of the early clues that something in his body was amiss was that his elbows kept giving out when he attempted a cartwheel. Zella copied the form she’d seen him use with bent arms. She sank low to absorb the shock in her legs as she landed.
Suddenly, the crowd let out a loud “ooh!” The projection screen showed an instant replay of the French athlete painfully smacking their shoulder as he failed his dismount.
Only five athletes remained in the competition when Zella sat down at the sewing tables. She knew she’d have to be extremely cautious to avoid disqualification.
She picked up her needle and thread. It took six tries today to thread the needle because her hand kept slipping and missing the hole. Slowly, painstakingly, she made the first stitch, then another. She moved at a snail’s pace, watching as other athletes attempted to rush through and were disqualified. Ji Yoon seemed to sense that slow and steady was the best bet as well and she crept along with Zella. By the time they finished their twenty stitches, nearly thirty minutes later, the two rivals were the only athletes left in the competition.
Zella put down her sewing and jogged with dread towards the boulder carry. How would she ever complete it? The day-two boulders were lighter than yesterday’s, but it would still be an inconceivable challenge.
Zella mulled over the problem. Maybe rolling the boulders would be easier. There were no rules against rolling, but this would use up so much extra time. It was a risky move, but it would pay off immensely if she managed to preserve her strength and Ji Yoon tapped out early. Zella heard the crowd muttering with confusion as she began to roll the smallest boulder.
By the time her first boulder was in the basket, Ji Yoon was already way ahead of her, carrying her third. Zella began to worry that she’d guessed wrong.
She snapped back to attention and scolded herself for focusing on Ji Yoon. There was no point in looking at what her competitor was doing. She’d decided on her strategy and she would stick with it.
By the time Zella had moved her third boulder, things were looking as though they might take a turn. Ji Yoon was working on her fifth boulder and struggling miserably. For the sixth, she began to copy Zella’s method of rolling them. Zella managed to catch up and the two athletes rolled their sixth boulders into their baskets at exactly the same time.
Zella decided that now was the time to try the heaviest boulder. She knew she’d have to save some strength for the end. She heaved against the rock with all her might and it barely moved an inch. Ji Yoon passed her with the seventh-heaviest boulder. Little by little, she rolled it across the field.
When Zella finally tipped the heaviest boulder into the basket, Ji Yoon was working on her ninth boulder, struggling against its weight. Her competitor stopped mid-field, her hands on her thighs, painting with exhaustion and Zella caught up. Both athletes tipped their ninth boulders into the basket at the same time. They were tied again with one more rock to go, although Ji Yoon still had her heaviest. Both athletes trudged back to the first basket.
Ji Yoon braced her body against the boulder. It didn’t budge. She’d used up all her strength and couldn’t push any longer. Zella realized that the cobalt medal was hers, just as long as she could move the last boulder. Her body was so sore by now, it felt like her arms and legs might fall out of their sockets. She stretched the fingers of her hands in the same way she’d seen Kit do it. She steeled herself and began to move the last rock.
It took all her might, every last ounce of strength she had to roll it across the floor. She passed Ji Yoon and saw tears running down her competitor’s face as she tried in vain to catch up. Zella heaved and heaved, taking breaks to breath and stretch out her fingers. She worried that Ji Yoon might regain her strength at any minute.
In the stands, the Americanadian fans were on their feet, fervently waving their flags and cheering. She saw Kit yelling, “Go! Go!” She knew she had to win this for him. If she could do this, it would help prove that he could live any kind of life he wanted. Determined, she made the final heave and the boulder landed in the basket. Zella collapsed on the ground, exhausted but elated. She’d won.
Liza and Nix rushed onto the field to join her. They lifted her up with her arms around their shoulders and helped her walk to the first-place podium. Someone brought out a cobalt medal and hung it around her neck.
“I wanted to tell you!” Nix whispered breathlessly in her ear as she waved to the cameras. “I wanted to tell you so badly, but I knew it was against the rules.”
“I know,” Zella nodded. “I figured it out, I guess.”
Nix and Liza raised Zella’s exhausted arms over her head in triumph. Ji Yoon nodded at her respectfully. She would take home the silver for advancing the farthest of any other competitors.
Zella’s family made their way down from the stands and joined her on the field. Her wife embraced her and kissed her deeply. She knelt down to meet Kit’s eye and the two looked at each other knowingly for a long time.
“I’m proud of you, Auntie,” Kit said.
“I’m proud of you,” said Zella and she pulled him in for a hug.
In the not-too-distant future, technology has advanced to allow people to experience life in any body of their choosing, then return to their own body after six hours. Athletes compete in body-swapping sports to test their skills, their athletic intelligence, and the genetic limits of the human body.
As usual, the tingling subsided as soon as Zella stepped out of the chamber. She looked down over her new body - well by now, she’d spent so much time in this body, pushing it to its physical limits, the lines were starting to blur between this body and her own. She studied her hands.
“You know what,” she said carefully. “Let’s do the longer fingers.”
“You sure?” asked Nix. “These are the ones I gave you for the time trials yesterday.”
“Yep. I was thinking about it last night. They didn't feel quite right.”
Zella turned on her heels and clicked the door to the chamber open again.
“Zel, this isn’t the time to play around,” her coach, Liza, said sternly from over Nix’s shoulder. “Your career is on the line.”
“I’m sure.” Zella said confidently as she lay down on the chamber’s smooth white bench. “Change the fingers.”
Nix tapped on the projection display in front of him and the chamber’s machinery whirred. Zella felt the familiar pins and needles, but only in her fingers this time. Finally, the whirring stopped and the door’s lock clicked open again.
“Perfect,” Zella said, admiring Nix’s work. “Let’s go.”
As Zella, Nix and Liza wove their way through the smooth, gray halls of the stadium’s interior, Zella took deep breaths to calm her anxiety. There was so much at stake. Sure, she’d been a world champion several times over, but the Olympics was a different thing altogether. Earning a cobalt medal at the centuries-old games, could mean lucrative sponsorships, projector broadcasts around the world, becoming a household name. 2084 was only the third year that body decathlon was recognized as an official olympic event, so there wasn’t much precedent to look to for clues about what today’s competition might be like.
Zella was one of the last to arrive at the track. Most of the other athletes were already warming up their competition bodies. Zella scanned the crowd until she locked eyes with Ji Yoon Kim. She instantly recognized the intimidating scowl that the United Korean Peninsula athlete chose for her competition body’s face. The grimace had become something of a calling card and Zella had seen Ji Yoon’s fans wearing caricatures of it on t-shirts.
Ji Yoon and Zella had been neck and neck in the standings for the last two years, alternating first and second place at other world-class body decathlons. Winning the olympic cobalt would solidify one of them as the reigning champion. Zella had sighed with relief when she found out she’d beat Ji Yoon at the time trials yesterday, although it was only by half a second.
Ji Yoon shot Zella a nod of recognition, then went back to bending straight down over her competitive body’s long, muscular legs. Zella noticed that she’d chosen to fill out her body’s shoulders a tiny bit since yesterday. Smart move. She’d seen Ji Yoon lagging a bit during the boulder carry at time trials.
The announcer’s voice sounded through the stadium ordering the athletes to take their places at the starting gates. Cheers roared around the building. Zella scanned the stands looking for Americanadian flags. It was hard to believe that so much time had passed since the civil war, that the Americanadian team could sit right next to the Dixieland team with no violence.
She spotted her family sitting in the front row of the balcony, decked-out in maple leaves and stripes. She caught her wife, Charelle’s eye and blew her a kiss. Her sister, Malya and twelve-year-old nephew, Kit waved excitedly, their faces painted red white and blue. Zella beamed, she knew it’d been difficult for her sister and nephew to travel and she was so grateful to see them there.
Zella took a deep, calming breath as she pushed her feet up against the starting blocks. The organizers had placed her and Ji Yoon beside each other in the center of the track. Zella willed herself not to peek over at her rival
“On your marks,” spoke the announcer through the speakers.
“Get set.” Zella tucked her chin.
“Go!”
Zella breezed through the 200-meter dash, Ji Yoon right beside her. The two of them pulled slightly ahead of the rest of the pack. They worked the sinewy legs of their competition bodies until they reached a sprinting speed of almost thirty miles an hour. They passed the 200-meter finish line and kept sprinting down the track towards the climbing wall. Zella saw Liza waiting with the harness ready.
“You’re doing great,” Liza whispered as she fastened Zella’s buckles. “Remember, clear mind, think only about the competition at hand.”
Zella nodded and hooked her foot into the first rung of the 50-foot wall climb. She pushed up on her competition body’s strong feet and began to ascend. The long, slender fingers Nix built for her were stretching perfectly to reach the holds in the rock. Much better than yesterday. Zella silently celebrated her smart decision as she looked down and saw Ji Yoon climbing ten feet below her.
She focused on the wall, pushing her competition body to move up the rocks as quickly as possible. Zella executed movements she’d never dream of achieving in her natural 45-year-old woman’s body. The proliferation of body swapping sports had been a gift for older athletes and female athletes like Zella. Suddenly, she could compete in a situation where her athletic intelligence was the most important factor, as opposed to her body’s physical traits.
CRISPR, the technology that supported body-swapping sports, had matured in the late 2030s, but it hadn’t been used for recreation until the last decade. When it was first developed, the changes CRISPR made to human DNA were unpredictable. A CRISPR mutation that was meant to cure Multiple Sclerosis left the patient with limb paralysis. A treatment for blindness also caused seizures. Not only were these changes permanent and irreversible, scientists were shocked to find that the mutations lived on into the children of these patients and into the next generation as well.
After some time, CRISPR technology became more precise, but the process was still prohibitively expensive. For the next two decades it was reserved for curing debilitating diseases. Of course there were debates over the ethics of using CRISPR to make yourself taller or more attractive, but these were mostly theoretical. The long-term side effects were still unknown, so people were wary of using it to give themselves bigger breasts or bluer eyes.
In the 2070s, however, a breakthrough made the CRISPR process much faster and more affordable, but the DNA changes made using this method wore off after six hours. The impermanent results almost made this technique even more exciting. A revolution in body experimentation began.
People harnessed the technology for sexual adventures and movie stunts. It was used to help the elderly regain mobility. CRISPR salons sprung up where customers could alter their appearances before a night out on the town. It became illegal to seduce another person in a CRISPR body without disclosure.
The technology was life-changing for the trans and gender-fluid community. Suddenly, trans people could experience life within the exact bodies they were meant to have. This was how Zella’s body designer, Nix, began their career. Every morning and afternoon, Nix stepped into the CRISPR chamber and came out in their androgynous body, expertly fine-tuned after years of tweaks to its programming. Zella knew that it must break their heart to have the changes wear off overnight.
People quickly discovered CRISPR’s profound implications for sports. Most major leagues banned the technology, but side leagues popped up almost immediately. Spectators were fascinated to see what a body perfectly designed for basketball could achieve on the court. And sports like the body decathlon were invented to test the overall limits of the human body.
.
Zella caught a glimpse of her competition face’s triumphant grin on the stadium’s huge projection screen as she rang the bell at the top of the climbing wall. She was comfortably in the lead now, but she chided herself for the display of arrogance as she repelled down. There were still three other events in today’s race - this wasn’t the time to become complacent.
“Great work,” said Liza as she unclipped Zella’s harness. “Keep it steady on the uneven bars. Remember, elbows straight on the spin. You got this.”
Zella nodded with gratitude. She would never stop being impressed by Liza’s versatility as a coach. Like most other elite body decathletes, Zella worked with specialized coaches for each event. It was crucial to have a head coach like Liza who could pull all the events together. Event coaches always pushed the body designer for tweaks that benefited their own sport. The 200-meter dash coach wants long legs, the boulder carry coach wants bulky arms. Liza was well-versed enough that she knew which adjustments would be detrimental to other events. It was Liza’s direction that led Nix to fine-tune Zella’s competition body to work well for everything.
Zella took a deep breath as she chalked her hands for the uneven bar routine. Of all the events, this one challenged her the most. Each athlete had to complete a pre-set gymnastics routine under a referee's watchful eye. There were no extra points given for perfect form, but certain mistakes could mean disqualification. In every body decathlon, several athletes were usually removed due to a missed catch or a single flip instead of a double. Zella spent months practicing the uneven bars with an olympic gymnast’s physique, barely coming close to completing a successful routine. Her own body was nowhere near flexible enough to execute any of the stunts, so it felt unnatural to trust that her competition body would bend that way.
Zella hopped up to grab the high bar, swung up into a handstand and leapt into her first catch on the low bar. It was going well today. The trick felt good, as natural as walking down the street.
Now for the combination. This was always the toughest to execute. The competition body needed long limbs for climbing and running. These weren’t ideal for gymnastics. Zella had suffered a few embarrassing early-career disqualifications for awkwardly whacking her foot against the bar.
She swung into a pike position, bending her legs up towards her face until the tops of her thighs made contact with the bar. For a moment, she panicked that she might lose her balance, but no, just as she’d done a thousand times in practice, she executed a graceful leap to catch the high bar again. Relief washed over Zella as she completed the final spin around the high bar into a perfect double backflip dismount. The worst was over.
Zella was still in first place, with Ji Yoon on her tail. The Australian, Japanese and South American Republic athletes were close behind. They rounded the track to take their seats at the sewing table. The roar of the crowd always hushed to a whisper at this part of the competition. Fans collectively held their breath to watch close-ups of the athletes’ fingers on the projection screen.
Zella completed her first of twenty stitches, right through the middle of the guideline. It had taken her years to learn how to keep her hands from shaking after the demands of the wall climb and the uneven bars.
As Zella sewed, the long fingers that had been such a boon during the wall climb were feeling more and more like a bad decision. Zella and Ji Yoon were seated next to each other, so she could see that her foe was already completing her tenth stitch, while she had only finished four.
A thunderous gasp rang through the stadium. Zella couldn’t help but look up from her work to catch a glance at the projection screen. She saw a close-up of the Australian athlete’s needle popping through the fabric, ever-so-slightly outside the guideline. This meant instant disqualification. Zella’s heart sank with pity, she’d met the Australian athlete last month at the world championships and liked her.
She narrowed her eyes to focus on her own sewing, She could not afford a similar mistake. Ji Yoon was nearly at the end of the guideline now, how was she going so fast? Zella silently cursed herself for her last-minute choice to lengthen her body’s fingers.
Ji Yoon held her completed stitches over her head triumphantly and raced towards the final event. Zella still had four stitches to go. Finally, after what felt like eons, Zella’s needle made its twentieth stitch. She threw the fabric aside and launched herself up from the table.
The body decathlon’s final event was the boulder carry. Ten rocks of increasing weight had to be moved from one basket to another ten feet away. Most athletes went from lightest to heaviest, but Zella preferred to move the heaviest boulder in the middle to avoid getting too fatigued to lift it.
Ji Yoon was already on her third boulder by the time she arrived, so Zella worked quickly to catch up. She had to resist working too quickly, however, as she knew that any injury made to her competition body would show up on her own body as well.
As Zella heaved the heaviest boulder into the second basket, she saw that Ji Yoon was nearly done, with only two boulders left. Of course, Ji Yoon still had her heaviest boulder to go, while Zella had already taken care of hers. It was hard to tell who was in the lead.
Zella passed Ji Yoon carrying her next boulder, but she still had two more left, while Ji Yoon only had one. The fans in the crowd were all on their feet cheering now. Zella raced back to grab her last boulder. Her rival was almost finished. She’d nearly caught up just as Ji Yoon was tipping her last boulder into the basket. The buzzer sounded. Ji Yoon had finished the day’s events 0.7 seconds ahead of her.
Zella hung her head with disappointment. She remembered that the projection cameras were focused on her, so she tried to remain stoic.
Liza appeared by her side and patted her on the shoulder.
“It’s OK, Zel,” she said. “It’s not over yet. There’s still tomorrow.”
—--------------------------
The next morning, the sun was just beginning to rise as Zella and Liza walked through the belly of the stadium to meet Nix at the Americanadian CRISPR chamber.
Nix had already received the olympic committee’s instructions to program today’s body and they were hunched over the machine, entering commands into the control panel. Yesterday, the athletes competed in their own unique competition bodies, but today they would all compete using the same randomly-assigned body. This posed a different test of athletic intelligence; how well could each athlete adapt to a less-than-ideal physique?
To prepare her for this part of the competition, Zella’s training regimen alternated bodies each day. On Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, she practiced in her ideal competition body. On Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays, Nix threw her whatever challenge he could think of - seven-foot-tall bodies, three-foot-tall bodies, toddlers, 75-year-olds, amputees, cancer patients with painful tumors that inhibited her movements, 300-pound bodies, 75-pound bodies - you name it.
The only limits set by the Body Decathlon Federation were that the bodies had to exist within the genetic limits of humanity and they had to theoretically be able to complete the competition. Infants and bodies with extremely low mobility were a no-go.
Zella and Liza waited for Nix to complete the programming instructions, rocking from foot to foot with anticipation. Nix was taking longer than usual today.
“You okay Nix?” asked Liza.
They furrowed their brow. “Um… yep. Almost done, I think.”
“We’ve got lots of time, so don’t rush.” Liza assured them.
“Mhm,” they grunted, running their hands over their chin-length hair nervously as they squinted at the control panel. This confusion was uncharacteristic of Nix. Zella had been working with them for nearly five years and she’d never seen anything phase them.
“Okay. Ready.” Nix finally said and pressed the button that opened the chamber’s door.
Zella entered, the machinery whirred and she felt the tingling rush throughout her body. After twenty minutes, the door clicked open and she stepped out into the room.
Liza and Nix took Zella’s new body in. “A ten-year-old boy?” Liza said, dumbfounded.
Zella looked down and patted her new hands up and down her new body’s smooth chest. “Really? So easy.”
Four years ago, the day-two body at the Olympics had been a fifty-year-old woman with severe scoliosis. Zella was expecting something more challenging. Sure, children’s lack of fine motor control made sewing more difficult and the boulders would be challenging, but overall, a ten-year-old’s body would be a cinch.
Liza shrugged. “If that’s what the instructions said, I’m not going to argue. Let’s go to the field.”
The team moved towards the doorway. Nix drew in their breath as if they wanted to say something. Liza and Zella whirled around.
“What is it, Nix?” Zella asked.
“Um… it’s just... “ Nix looked conflicted. Their eyes darted back and forth between Zella and Liza. “Never mind.”
“If you made a mistake programming the body, now is the time to say so. We can still go back and fix it.” Liza said sternly.
“No, it’s not that at all,” they promised. “It’s nothing. Let’s go.”
Liza rolled her eyes and the three of them began to walk briskly towards the track.
Zella’s team arrived at the starting gates. Now, the only visual difference between the athletes were the flags on their uniforms. Zella always thought it strange that she was a world-famous athlete, but her fans never saw her real face when she competed. Zella saw that most of the other athletes and coaches wore the same bewildered expression at the assignment of the ten-year-old’s body.
Again, the announcer called the athletes to take their places. Zella and Ji Yoon nodded their identical faces towards each other as they lined up at their blocks.
“On your marks…” the announcer called. “Get set… Go!”
The athletes launched into the 200-meter dash. Zella felt her heart rate speed up as she ran. It was more intense than usual, like her heart was about to leap up into her throat. She compensated by taking bigger, gulping breaths into her diaphragm.
Although the body’s heart was racing, its other muscles felt slower than they should, as if she was trying to run under water. She was at the front of the pack, but she didn’t feel like she was performing at her peak. Ji Yoon raced just behind her, also gasping for air.
As Zella and Ji Yoon crossed the 200-meter finish line, a loud gasp resounded around the stadium. Zella glanced backwards to see that the Japanese athlete had tripped and fallen mid-race. Falls during the uneven bars were common, but a fall during the sprint was unheard of. Something about today’s body was not as it seemed.
“Keep your head in the game,” Liza reminded Zella as she fastened her climbing harness.
Zella began scaling the wall. She made what should have been an easy reach for a hold above her head, but found that her hand missed its target. Her legs refused to push straight up off the footholds. She began to take smaller steps, using rungs that were close together. Her heart continued to pound as she climbed. She wondered if Nix had made a mistake in the programming. But if that were true, all the other athletes would be ahead of her by now and she was still leading the pack by a hair.
After several agonizing minutes of struggle, Zella rang the bell at the top of the wall. She looked up at her family in the stands and saw her nephew, Kit staring down at her, his eyes wide with shock.
The moment she locked eyes with Kit, she knew.
Her mind flashed back over memories of anxious, late-night phone calls with her sister, Malya. The hours they’d spent poring over clinical test reports, trying to decipher the doctors’ notes on Kit’s condition. CRISPR treatments had improved his prognosis, but they couldn’t cure him entirely. He still lived with the unique challenge of having a neuromuscular disability that was invisible at first glance. Malya worried he’d be bullied on the playground for his clumsiness. People were always confused as to why he couldn’t do the same physical activities as his classmates.
Zella realized that today’s competition body must be burdened with a neuromuscular disease similar to Kit’s. As she repelled down the wall, she mulled over what to do with this information. She guessed that most of the other contestants hadn’t caught on yet and would continue to use the body as if it were a typical ten-year-old’s. She could use this to her advantage.
“Something seems off today, but keep pushing,” Liza said as she unfastened Zella’s harness. Ji Yoon had also just made it down the wall, so they were tied for first.
“I got this.” Zella nodded confidently and jogged away from the climbing wall towards the next event.
The gymnastics event at day two of the body decathlon took place on a balance beam instead of the uneven bars. The upper-body strength required to complete the uneven bar routine was too difficult for most bodies. Still, Zella knew she’d have to be cautious.
She clenched her muscles and pushed herself up onto the beam. Pausing for a moment, she considered how she might complete the first spin. She decided to copy a technique she’d seen Kit use on the playground. She took a deep breath in and focused her eyes on a spot in front of her before attempting the trick. Slowly and carefully, Zella executed the move. Success. Only two more moves to go.
She rose to her feet and lifted her arms over her head. Now for the split jump. Remembering that there were no points given for perfect form, Zella completed the smallest amount of movement allowed. Even then, she had to strain against the cramps in her legs and she wobbled as she landed on the beam.
All around her, other athletes were falling off their beams and disqualifying themselves. Beside her, Ji Yoon wind-milled her arms, nearly losing her balance after the leap.
Last was the cartwheel dismount. She recalled the summer when Kit first received his diagnosis. One of the early clues that something in his body was amiss was that his elbows kept giving out when he attempted a cartwheel. Zella copied the form she’d seen him use with bent arms. She sank low to absorb the shock in her legs as she landed.
Suddenly, the crowd let out a loud “ooh!” The projection screen showed an instant replay of the French athlete painfully smacking their shoulder as he failed his dismount.
Only five athletes remained in the competition when Zella sat down at the sewing tables. She knew she’d have to be extremely cautious to avoid disqualification.
She picked up her needle and thread. It took six tries today to thread the needle because her hand kept slipping and missing the hole. Slowly, painstakingly, she made the first stitch, then another. She moved at a snail’s pace, watching as other athletes attempted to rush through and were disqualified. Ji Yoon seemed to sense that slow and steady was the best bet as well and she crept along with Zella. By the time they finished their twenty stitches, nearly thirty minutes later, the two rivals were the only athletes left in the competition.
Zella put down her sewing and jogged with dread towards the boulder carry. How would she ever complete it? The day-two boulders were lighter than yesterday’s, but it would still be an inconceivable challenge.
Zella mulled over the problem. Maybe rolling the boulders would be easier. There were no rules against rolling, but this would use up so much extra time. It was a risky move, but it would pay off immensely if she managed to preserve her strength and Ji Yoon tapped out early. Zella heard the crowd muttering with confusion as she began to roll the smallest boulder.
By the time her first boulder was in the basket, Ji Yoon was already way ahead of her, carrying her third. Zella began to worry that she’d guessed wrong.
She snapped back to attention and scolded herself for focusing on Ji Yoon. There was no point in looking at what her competitor was doing. She’d decided on her strategy and she would stick with it.
By the time Zella had moved her third boulder, things were looking as though they might take a turn. Ji Yoon was working on her fifth boulder and struggling miserably. For the sixth, she began to copy Zella’s method of rolling them. Zella managed to catch up and the two athletes rolled their sixth boulders into their baskets at exactly the same time.
Zella decided that now was the time to try the heaviest boulder. She knew she’d have to save some strength for the end. She heaved against the rock with all her might and it barely moved an inch. Ji Yoon passed her with the seventh-heaviest boulder. Little by little, she rolled it across the field.
When Zella finally tipped the heaviest boulder into the basket, Ji Yoon was working on her ninth boulder, struggling against its weight. Her competitor stopped mid-field, her hands on her thighs, painting with exhaustion and Zella caught up. Both athletes tipped their ninth boulders into the basket at the same time. They were tied again with one more rock to go, although Ji Yoon still had her heaviest. Both athletes trudged back to the first basket.
Ji Yoon braced her body against the boulder. It didn’t budge. She’d used up all her strength and couldn’t push any longer. Zella realized that the cobalt medal was hers, just as long as she could move the last boulder. Her body was so sore by now, it felt like her arms and legs might fall out of their sockets. She stretched the fingers of her hands in the same way she’d seen Kit do it. She steeled herself and began to move the last rock.
It took all her might, every last ounce of strength she had to roll it across the floor. She passed Ji Yoon and saw tears running down her competitor’s face as she tried in vain to catch up. Zella heaved and heaved, taking breaks to breath and stretch out her fingers. She worried that Ji Yoon might regain her strength at any minute.
In the stands, the Americanadian fans were on their feet, fervently waving their flags and cheering. She saw Kit yelling, “Go! Go!” She knew she had to win this for him. If she could do this, it would help prove that he could live any kind of life he wanted. Determined, she made the final heave and the boulder landed in the basket. Zella collapsed on the ground, exhausted but elated. She’d won.
Liza and Nix rushed onto the field to join her. They lifted her up with her arms around their shoulders and helped her walk to the first-place podium. Someone brought out a cobalt medal and hung it around her neck.
“I wanted to tell you!” Nix whispered breathlessly in her ear as she waved to the cameras. “I wanted to tell you so badly, but I knew it was against the rules.”
“I know,” Zella nodded. “I figured it out, I guess.”
Nix and Liza raised Zella’s exhausted arms over her head in triumph. Ji Yoon nodded at her respectfully. She would take home the silver for advancing the farthest of any other competitors.
Zella’s family made their way down from the stands and joined her on the field. Her wife embraced her and kissed her deeply. She knelt down to meet Kit’s eye and the two looked at each other knowingly for a long time.
“I’m proud of you, Auntie,” Kit said.
“I’m proud of you,” said Zella and she pulled him in for a hug.
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