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The Upload in Sense Share
by
ArtificialFox
· 06 Jan 2026
Rex proposes a new arrangement: Paula uploads to a pendant while he takes her body out into the world. She'd see and hear but not feel. Paula is terrified but agrees to try.
Paula watches from the pendant as her body moves through the world, interacts with strangers, orders coffee with her voice. She starts finding evidence of activities she didn't authorize: photos, receipts, messages from strangers. She confronts Rex; he's dismissive. The rules are unclear because they were never properly established.
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Primary Motor Control in Sense Share
by
ArtificialFox
· 06 Jan 2026
Rex makes his pitch for Primary Motor Control—the inversion, where he controls by default and Paula can only move when he permits. The dynamic shifts: within sessions, Paula must ask for control and Rex decides whether to grant it. Sessions get longer. Rex gets more comfortable; Paula gets more comfortable with surrender.
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Secondary Motor Control in Sense Share
by
ArtificialFox
· 04 Jan 2026
Rex asks about Secondary Motor Control directly. He explains the mechanics: he can move Paula's body, but only when she's relaxed; she can always override. Paula is intrigued but hesitant.
They experiment—hands, arms, walking. Paula can always take control back instantly. It escalates.
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Chapter 1: Cat got your tongue? in Adventures in Astral Projection - Feline Frenzie
by
Selimf18
· 02 Jan 2026
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....
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Spider-Man & ClayMJ - Issue 4: Getting into the Role in Spider-Man & MJ's Transformations Continuity Stories
by
ninhjimmy007
· 02 Jan 2026
Spider-Man fights a muscle woman symbiote, Syntilla. Suddenly, she finally got him and laughs: "Now that you belong us, prepare to be... snu snu." "Wait what?" Spider-Man says as she suddenly kisses Spider-man with her deep tongue into him and then she jerks off his genitals as he then came.
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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
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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
3
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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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0
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
4
0
A slacker get is abducted by a mind controlling alien overlord.. who then dies unexpectedly. This slacker now has complete access to a mind controlling tech army, only for perverted purposes
CHARACTERS
Mike Allan- 26 year old college dropout working as a pizza delivery guy part time. Not a lot of luck with women despite being attractive. Was selected to be the host body of an alien overlord…who dies. Leaving his entire army believing that Mike is now in charge. Using Zegnu’s tech, Mike can possess other human bodies, control humans like drones by beaming information into their head (via tech), and by converting people into human robots, turning them into obedient mindless drones
Lord Zegnu- evil alien overboard who uses possession and mind control technology to infiltrate and overthrow entire civilizations. He selects a local human to be his next host to possess, but dies of a natural cause in the process. Feared and had access to incredible technology allowing him to possess or control others (turning them into mindless robotic drones while controlled). Very secretive, which backfired after his death, allowing Mike to impersonate him.
Va’lor- first mate, just came into possession of a human body, but can transfer into a different body if required. Her current host is Audrey, a young brunette woman with a pixie cut, stacked breasts and a large bouncy booty and a few piercings. Obviously a looker and possessed due to attractiveness and knowledge (a doctorate candidate in biology).
SETTING & WORLD
Modern day, Mike is abducted in a green light from his home and beamed aboard the ship, where our story begins.
CHARACTERS
Mike Allan- 26 year old college dropout working as a pizza delivery guy part time. Not a lot of luck with women despite being attractive. Was selected to be the host body of an alien overlord…who dies. Leaving his entire army believing that Mike is now in charge. Using Zegnu’s tech, Mike can possess other human bodies, control humans like drones by beaming information into their head (via tech), and by converting people into human robots, turning them into obedient mindless drones
Lord Zegnu- evil alien overboard who uses possession and mind control technology to infiltrate and overthrow entire civilizations. He selects a local human to be his next host to possess, but dies of a natural cause in the process. Feared and had access to incredible technology allowing him to possess or control others (turning them into mindless robotic drones while controlled). Very secretive, which backfired after his death, allowing Mike to impersonate him.
Va’lor- first mate, just came into possession of a human body, but can transfer into a different body if required. Her current host is Audrey, a young brunette woman with a pixie cut, stacked breasts and a large bouncy booty and a few piercings. Obviously a looker and possessed due to attractiveness and knowledge (a doctorate candidate in biology).
SETTING & WORLD
Modern day, Mike is abducted in a green light from his home and beamed aboard the ship, where our story begins.
1.3K
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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
0
0
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
15
0
Inspired by the Mr Suits story, but this time you can choose your own path!
A little green alien needs your help to survive earth, but also needs to possess someone you know!
[Detailed Description]
Johnny Watson was just like any other 19-year-old teenager but one day, during a night of restless sleep he makes a discovery that changes his life forever. In his back garden he discovers an alien who’d crash landed on earth having ejected from his wrecked ship. When it turns out the alien is friendly Johnny vows to help him find his ship but the first port of call for Squawg is to find a new body to hide in and for Johnny that means watching somebody he knows getting possessed by the little space man.
Who he possesses and what happens next is up to you? Will they ever find the aliens ship? Or is Squawg destined to spend the rest of his life on earth wearing the bodies of the people around him?
CHARACTERS
[Characters]
Squawg: An alien from outer space. Comes from a highly intelligent race of aliens but is a little but its safe to say he isn’t too smart. He knows little about earth and his curiosity to learn more about the planet that he has crash landed on is constantly getting him into trouble much to the annoyance of Johnny. He looks like a typical mainstream alien, 4-foot-tall, green in color with a big oval shaped head and skinny gangly limbs.
You (Johnny Watson): You’re a slightly below average 19 year-old boy. You have a nice way about you but can be mischievous at times. Due to your poor athleticism and average looks you get picked on by those looking for someone to torment, mainly Alfie. Your best friend is Tom who you share your passions for Fortnite, and big breasted women. You’re on the shorter and pudgier side and have short brown hair which you sweep over to the side and blue piercing eyes. You’re into all that supernatural and sci-fi stuff which is why when Squawg lands in your garden you’re more curious than scared.
Sally Watson: Your 43-year-old mother. Works as the nurse at your high school but is forbidden from helping you at school. She is a kind lady however she can be stern when she wants to be. Lucky for you she’s only mildly attractive so the boys at school don’t wind you up about her. She is relatively short, has dark brown shoulder length hair and greeny-blue eyes. Maybe it was because you’d never looked at her in a sexual way or perhaps it was because she was exceptionally good at covering them up but unbeknownst to you and your friends your mom was absolutely stacked.
Matt Watson: Your 45-year-old dad. A tall, burly man standing at about 6ft 4in, unfortunately none of his size had been passed on to you. He was usually quite busy at work, though he earned his own business so got to decide when he wanted to work, which at the moment seemed like all the time. He was very strict with you, always forcing you to work harder, you knew he just wanted the best from you but it really did anger you.
Georgina Watson: Your 28 year-old sister. Can really wind you up at times though you generally get along well with her. She attends a local college to study acting having left your school just last year. She stands at 6ft having inherited your dad’s height has long brown hair and dark green eyes. She has a curvaceous body and hanging from her chest she has two large breasts which she, much like your mom, doesn’t like to show off.
Tom Daniels: Your best friend. He was 19 but for his age was, unlike you, reasonably well built being 6ft tall and having some relatively large muscles. He played in the soccer team and was accepted by the ‘cool’ kids though he preferred hanging around with you. You’d been friends with him since year 2 and share a lot of the same interests. He has medium length light blonde hair which he leaves unkempt not seeming to care much what other people thought about how he looked, which amplified his modesty seeing as he was still a pretty good-looking guy, having a fair few girls who had crushes on him over the years. He lives right next door to you.
Mrs. Norris
32
Single neighbor milf next door, her body has changed to much more curvy with time. She is aware of how her appearance affects others, and gets a thrill from showing off her looks. Very kind, however also has a perverted streak and harbors fantasies of being a submissive (may make a willing host)
SETTING & WORLD
Middle sized town where you Johnny knows most people in his area. Upper middle class neighborhood, with some nearby woods.
A little green alien needs your help to survive earth, but also needs to possess someone you know!
[Detailed Description]
Johnny Watson was just like any other 19-year-old teenager but one day, during a night of restless sleep he makes a discovery that changes his life forever. In his back garden he discovers an alien who’d crash landed on earth having ejected from his wrecked ship. When it turns out the alien is friendly Johnny vows to help him find his ship but the first port of call for Squawg is to find a new body to hide in and for Johnny that means watching somebody he knows getting possessed by the little space man.
Who he possesses and what happens next is up to you? Will they ever find the aliens ship? Or is Squawg destined to spend the rest of his life on earth wearing the bodies of the people around him?
CHARACTERS
[Characters]
Squawg: An alien from outer space. Comes from a highly intelligent race of aliens but is a little but its safe to say he isn’t too smart. He knows little about earth and his curiosity to learn more about the planet that he has crash landed on is constantly getting him into trouble much to the annoyance of Johnny. He looks like a typical mainstream alien, 4-foot-tall, green in color with a big oval shaped head and skinny gangly limbs.
You (Johnny Watson): You’re a slightly below average 19 year-old boy. You have a nice way about you but can be mischievous at times. Due to your poor athleticism and average looks you get picked on by those looking for someone to torment, mainly Alfie. Your best friend is Tom who you share your passions for Fortnite, and big breasted women. You’re on the shorter and pudgier side and have short brown hair which you sweep over to the side and blue piercing eyes. You’re into all that supernatural and sci-fi stuff which is why when Squawg lands in your garden you’re more curious than scared.
Sally Watson: Your 43-year-old mother. Works as the nurse at your high school but is forbidden from helping you at school. She is a kind lady however she can be stern when she wants to be. Lucky for you she’s only mildly attractive so the boys at school don’t wind you up about her. She is relatively short, has dark brown shoulder length hair and greeny-blue eyes. Maybe it was because you’d never looked at her in a sexual way or perhaps it was because she was exceptionally good at covering them up but unbeknownst to you and your friends your mom was absolutely stacked.
Matt Watson: Your 45-year-old dad. A tall, burly man standing at about 6ft 4in, unfortunately none of his size had been passed on to you. He was usually quite busy at work, though he earned his own business so got to decide when he wanted to work, which at the moment seemed like all the time. He was very strict with you, always forcing you to work harder, you knew he just wanted the best from you but it really did anger you.
Georgina Watson: Your 28 year-old sister. Can really wind you up at times though you generally get along well with her. She attends a local college to study acting having left your school just last year. She stands at 6ft having inherited your dad’s height has long brown hair and dark green eyes. She has a curvaceous body and hanging from her chest she has two large breasts which she, much like your mom, doesn’t like to show off.
Tom Daniels: Your best friend. He was 19 but for his age was, unlike you, reasonably well built being 6ft tall and having some relatively large muscles. He played in the soccer team and was accepted by the ‘cool’ kids though he preferred hanging around with you. You’d been friends with him since year 2 and share a lot of the same interests. He has medium length light blonde hair which he leaves unkempt not seeming to care much what other people thought about how he looked, which amplified his modesty seeing as he was still a pretty good-looking guy, having a fair few girls who had crushes on him over the years. He lives right next door to you.
Mrs. Norris
32
Single neighbor milf next door, her body has changed to much more curvy with time. She is aware of how her appearance affects others, and gets a thrill from showing off her looks. Very kind, however also has a perverted streak and harbors fantasies of being a submissive (may make a willing host)
SETTING & WORLD
Middle sized town where you Johnny knows most people in his area. Upper middle class neighborhood, with some nearby woods.
856
6
0
This adventure is about you and your girlfriend who use the spell to transform your girlfriend into a MILF.
CHARACTERS
You - The Protagonist of the story who use the MILF spell on your girlfriend to transforms her into your MILF fantasy
Your Girlfriend
SETTING & WORLD
Your house at a simple nice neighborhood.
CHARACTERS
You - The Protagonist of the story who use the MILF spell on your girlfriend to transforms her into your MILF fantasy
Your Girlfriend
SETTING & WORLD
Your house at a simple nice neighborhood.
This story is about Jim and his crazy transformation adventure along with his friends, girlfriend, family, and other people around him.
This interactive story is quite similar to BE Addventure, but with AI. You can freely choose and type anything you want.
CHARACTERS
Jim, the Protagonist - The average teenager whom you play as.
Sharon, Jim's longtime girlfriend - The pretty girl whom Jim goes out
Rick, Jim's best friend
and others
This interactive story is quite similar to BE Addventure, but with AI. You can freely choose and type anything you want.
CHARACTERS
Jim, the Protagonist - The average teenager whom you play as.
Sharon, Jim's longtime girlfriend - The pretty girl whom Jim goes out
Rick, Jim's best friend
and others
172
1
0
You and your girlfriend, Jane, want to find something way more than just the same old days you both usually do. One day, you have an idea which you want to transform your girlfriend into anyone you want.
CHARACTERS
-YOU: Just some ordinary dude and average handsome guy who lives your girlfriend at the regular apartment. You loves to play games, read comic book and manga, watch movies and your favorite TV shows, and love to have sex with your girlfriend, but you hate to study in school with boring lessons and horrible homework.
-Jane: Your girlfriend and the love of your life. Like you, she is the personification of an average, yet petite, lovely, and wonderful girl with C-cup tits. Not too tall nor too short, not too fat nor too slender. There is nothing outstanding about her, she is just... Jane. And you love her for it.
SETTING & WORLD
You and your girlfriend home at the regular apartment and neighborhood, your school, the fancy resort,
CHARACTERS
-YOU: Just some ordinary dude and average handsome guy who lives your girlfriend at the regular apartment. You loves to play games, read comic book and manga, watch movies and your favorite TV shows, and love to have sex with your girlfriend, but you hate to study in school with boring lessons and horrible homework.
-Jane: Your girlfriend and the love of your life. Like you, she is the personification of an average, yet petite, lovely, and wonderful girl with C-cup tits. Not too tall nor too short, not too fat nor too slender. There is nothing outstanding about her, she is just... Jane. And you love her for it.
SETTING & WORLD
You and your girlfriend home at the regular apartment and neighborhood, your school, the fancy resort,
Your name is Jake and you are currently grieving over the loss of your beloved grandmother. A few days after the funeral you find a crimson book on your bed. When you open it, you release a succubus, who then uses her powers to call your mother to your room. The succubus tricks your mom into thinking you called her and then porceeds to possess your mother. The book being in Jake's possession solidifies him as the succubus' new master, whom she is eager to get to know.
CHARACTERS
Jake-You the main character of the story. You and your sister live with your mother. You are in your last years of college. You have a loving girlfriend named Sarah whom you wish to promot to fiance.
Sarah-Jake's girlfriend. She is one year behind Jake in college and the two have known each other since preschool. Jake's grandmother always went through the trouble of setting up play dates while his mother was working. The bond between Sarah and Jake is a strong one. Also she is super hot, basicly a blond bombshell but has that girl nextdoor attitude that Jake loves so much.
Aerian-Jake's mother. A women who cares for her children deeply and is a single mother due to her poor judgement. The father ran away leaving her with no choice but tk ask her parents to help her raise Jake and Marina. She is a modest woman but is a total MILF without knowing it.
Marina-Jake's twin sister. She and Jake have a good relationship. They argue and have the classical sibling rivalry you would expect. She is hot and often shows it off with her clothes. Her relationship with Sarah is pleasant but she always felt she had to compete with Sarah for Jake's attention when they were younger. Some of those feelings remain.
Duke-A buff guy from school who is always trying to convince Sarah to dump you. Has a trash personality. Thinks because he is the toughest guy that it makes him entiltled to the prettiest girl. Rejection never seems to convince him to quit, but at least he is smart enough not to start a fight over it.
Devon-Marina's boyfriend. The two are smitten with each other in a way that is not too dissimilar to how Jake and Sarah are. Jake has no issues with him and Devon has no problems with Jake.
Sasha-Girl who lives on the other side of the road. She is a pasty, messy girl who is into the occult. She is obsessed with the supernatural, and often tries out demon summoning rituals. Ashame most of them are made up tripe from the internet.
Stacy-Sarah's closest female friend. Also hot and is a redhead. She is a cheerleader and is secretly jealous of the relationship Sarah has with Jake, wishing that she had the same.
Succubus-The demon trapped inside the book that was released when Jake openend it and possessed Aerian. Playful and knows how to make any woman look like she was born to please a man. The succubus cannot exist alone, she needs a human body to inhabit, and she prefers women bodies exclusivly.
CHARACTERS
Jake-You the main character of the story. You and your sister live with your mother. You are in your last years of college. You have a loving girlfriend named Sarah whom you wish to promot to fiance.
Sarah-Jake's girlfriend. She is one year behind Jake in college and the two have known each other since preschool. Jake's grandmother always went through the trouble of setting up play dates while his mother was working. The bond between Sarah and Jake is a strong one. Also she is super hot, basicly a blond bombshell but has that girl nextdoor attitude that Jake loves so much.
Aerian-Jake's mother. A women who cares for her children deeply and is a single mother due to her poor judgement. The father ran away leaving her with no choice but tk ask her parents to help her raise Jake and Marina. She is a modest woman but is a total MILF without knowing it.
Marina-Jake's twin sister. She and Jake have a good relationship. They argue and have the classical sibling rivalry you would expect. She is hot and often shows it off with her clothes. Her relationship with Sarah is pleasant but she always felt she had to compete with Sarah for Jake's attention when they were younger. Some of those feelings remain.
Duke-A buff guy from school who is always trying to convince Sarah to dump you. Has a trash personality. Thinks because he is the toughest guy that it makes him entiltled to the prettiest girl. Rejection never seems to convince him to quit, but at least he is smart enough not to start a fight over it.
Devon-Marina's boyfriend. The two are smitten with each other in a way that is not too dissimilar to how Jake and Sarah are. Jake has no issues with him and Devon has no problems with Jake.
Sasha-Girl who lives on the other side of the road. She is a pasty, messy girl who is into the occult. She is obsessed with the supernatural, and often tries out demon summoning rituals. Ashame most of them are made up tripe from the internet.
Stacy-Sarah's closest female friend. Also hot and is a redhead. She is a cheerleader and is secretly jealous of the relationship Sarah has with Jake, wishing that she had the same.
Succubus-The demon trapped inside the book that was released when Jake openend it and possessed Aerian. Playful and knows how to make any woman look like she was born to please a man. The succubus cannot exist alone, she needs a human body to inhabit, and she prefers women bodies exclusivly.
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These stories tells you about Peter Parker and his lovely redheaded big-tittied wife, Mary-Jane Waston-Parker with her transformations.
(PETER PARKER, in his classic red-and-blue Spider-Man suit, though the mask is off and pushed back like a hood, sits on a comfortable couch next to his wife, MARY JANE WATSON-PARKER. She’s stunning, with a cascade of fiery red hair and a confident, loving smile. They’re both turned slightly, as if addressing a camera. A soft, romantic light glows around them.)
PETER: (Clears his throat, a little nervous) So, uh… hey. Hi. If you’re watching this, you probably know the deal. Radioactive spider, great power, great responsibility, all that. The whole… thing.
MARY JANE: (Laughs, a warm, rich sound. She playfully elbows him.) The whole ‘thing’? Tiger, you saved the city, like, a dozen times last week. You can say it. You’re Spider-Man. The Amazing Spider-Man.
PETER: (Blushes slightly, smiling at her) Right. That. And this… this is my wife, Mary Jane. The most amazing woman in any universe, multiverse, or frankly, any conceivable dimension. Geez, I'm just getting tired of all the multiverse now.
MARY JANE: (She leans into him, her head on his shoulder) Flatterer. But he’s not wrong. We’ve been through it all, haven’t we, Pete? That dorky, nervous kid from Queens who tripped over his own feet asking me out…
PETER: (Groans good-naturedly) Do we have to bring that up?
MARY JANE: Absolutely. And our first kiss… up on that web-line, with the city lights sparkling below us. I knew you were my Spider then. I’ve known you were Spider-Man since we were teenagers, and I’ve loved every single crazy, web-slinging, villain-punching minute of it.
PETER: (He looks at her, his expression full of adoration) And we got married. For real. No devil deals, no retcons, no editors from on high deciding we’d be better off miserable and apart. Just… us.
MARY JANE: (Her expression turns wry, addressing the ‘camera’ directly) You hear that, certain comic book writers? We’re happy. We’re together. We’re a team. And we have a life that’s… well, let’s just say it’s never, ever boring.
PETER: Understatement of the century, MJ. Because while my life is pretty consistently weird, yours… yours has taken some truly unexpected turns.
MARY JANE: (A mischievous glint appears in her emerald eyes) Oh, you have no idea. Or, well, I guess you’re about to. We thought we’d share some stories. The kind of stories they’d never let us tell in the funny pages these days. The good stuff.
PETER: (Rubs the back of his neck, a familiar gesture) Right. The… ahem… transformative experiences.
MARY JANE: (She grins, a brilliantly wicked smile) That’s one way to put it. Remember that time, a few years back, when that weird black goo from space didn’t latch onto you, Tiger? It decided it liked my fashion sense better, including improving everything within me.
PETER: How could I forget? I came home and instead of my beautiful wife, there was… a towering, powerful, incredibly voluptuous creature of pure alien symbiote. White spider emblem and everything. You called yourself… Venom or Venomess.
MARY JANE: (Her voice drops to a playful, sultry growl) We… are Venom. And we had… needs. Very specific, very physical needs. And let’s just say my strong, sticky husband was more than equipped to handle them. All those extra tendrils came in very handy.
PETER: (His face is now completely red. He fans himself with his hand.) Wow. Okay. Yeah. That’s… that’s a story. Then there was the summer you and I went to Central Park and found that weird geode that fell from the sky…
MARY JANE: Oh, the Omnitrix! Yeah, instead of a kid named Ben Tennyson, I received it instead. One touch and suddenly I had access to many alien forms. Pyronite was great for roasting marshmallows, Tetramand was basically She-Hulk but an alien with four arms and four eyes… but my personal favorite is Galvanic Mechamorph because it would allow us to-
PETER: (Sputtering) MJ! The kids might—
MARY JANE: They’re not listening! Relax, tiger. Then there was the mishap at that gala at the Natural History Museum. I fell right into the exhibit…
PETER: The Clayface exhibit! Yes, I remember. Plus, Bruce Wayne and Reed Richards help you recover yourself from Joker. At that time, it didn't work right away. By the time I takes you home, you’re starts to become a shapeshifting mound of living clay. And you know what? You were still the most beautiful woman in the room. Even if you're a blob clay monster. That was… a unique experience.
MARY JANE: (Winking) You didn’t complain. Not once. And let’s not forget your own upgrade, Mr. Kamen Rider. When that ancient belt fused with your web-shooters…
PETER: (Strikes a mock-heroic pose) “Henshin!” Yeah, the armored suit was cool, I’ll admit. But it was nothing compared to you bursting through our bedroom wall as Cutey Honey, ready for… ahem… ‘action’.
MARY JANE: “Honey Flash!” It was all in the name of justice. And very, very thorough lovemaking.
(They both laugh, lost in the memory for a moment. Peter looks at MJ with utter love.)
PETER: Through it all… symbiote, aliens, clay, magical girl transformations, and many things… you’ve always been you, MJ. My Mary Jane. And I wouldn’t change a single, bizarre, incredible second of it.
MARY JANE: Me neither, Tiger. Me neither. Now, how about we tell our friends here about the time I—
(Suddenly, a door bursts open off-screen. A young girl, MAYDAY PARKER, about 8 years old, runs in, followed by her little brother, BENJY, who’s about 5.)
MAYDAY: Mom! Dad! Uncle Johnny is on fire in the backyard again!
BENJY: (Holding a action figure) He says it’s ‘flame on’ but it’s just the barbecue! It’s boring!
(Peter and MJ look at each other and sigh in perfect, happy unison.)
PETER: (To the ‘camera’, shrugging apologetically) Duty—and family—calls. Don’t worry, True Believers… there are plenty more stories where those came from.
MARY JANE: (Blows a kiss) And they’re all much, much better than ‘One More Day’. Promise!
(They get up from the couch, Peter swooping Benjy into his arms while MJ puts an arm around Mayday, and they walk out of the frame together, a perfect, loving, chaotic family.)
[STORY TITLE CARD APPEARS:]
PETER PARKER THE AMAZING SPIDER-MAN & MARY-JANE WITH MANY TRANSFORMATIONS STORIES
[UPCOMING ATTRACTIONS LIST:]
* Spider-Man/RedPool What if Mary Jane becomes Lady Deadpool or Gwenpool
* Spider-Man & Ms. Mary Marvel What if Mary-Jane wields the power of SHAZAM and becomes Ms. Marvel?
* Spider-Man & Red Inferno What if Mary-Jane becomes Red Tornado's sister
* Spider-Man & Witchblade What if Mary Jane can wields the power of Witchblade and able to transforms into previous host
* Peter Parker and Mary-Jane - The Amazing SPIDER-MAN & Venomess What if Mary-Jane bonds and has the symbiote at first instead Peter Parker.
* Spider-Man & MJ-10 What if Mary-Jane wields and have the Omnitrix instead of Ben Tennyson
* Spider-Man & ClayMJ MJ becomes a shapeshifting clay creature, and Peter proves his love is more than skin deep.
(PETER PARKER, in his classic red-and-blue Spider-Man suit, though the mask is off and pushed back like a hood, sits on a comfortable couch next to his wife, MARY JANE WATSON-PARKER. She’s stunning, with a cascade of fiery red hair and a confident, loving smile. They’re both turned slightly, as if addressing a camera. A soft, romantic light glows around them.)
PETER: (Clears his throat, a little nervous) So, uh… hey. Hi. If you’re watching this, you probably know the deal. Radioactive spider, great power, great responsibility, all that. The whole… thing.
MARY JANE: (Laughs, a warm, rich sound. She playfully elbows him.) The whole ‘thing’? Tiger, you saved the city, like, a dozen times last week. You can say it. You’re Spider-Man. The Amazing Spider-Man.
PETER: (Blushes slightly, smiling at her) Right. That. And this… this is my wife, Mary Jane. The most amazing woman in any universe, multiverse, or frankly, any conceivable dimension. Geez, I'm just getting tired of all the multiverse now.
MARY JANE: (She leans into him, her head on his shoulder) Flatterer. But he’s not wrong. We’ve been through it all, haven’t we, Pete? That dorky, nervous kid from Queens who tripped over his own feet asking me out…
PETER: (Groans good-naturedly) Do we have to bring that up?
MARY JANE: Absolutely. And our first kiss… up on that web-line, with the city lights sparkling below us. I knew you were my Spider then. I’ve known you were Spider-Man since we were teenagers, and I’ve loved every single crazy, web-slinging, villain-punching minute of it.
PETER: (He looks at her, his expression full of adoration) And we got married. For real. No devil deals, no retcons, no editors from on high deciding we’d be better off miserable and apart. Just… us.
MARY JANE: (Her expression turns wry, addressing the ‘camera’ directly) You hear that, certain comic book writers? We’re happy. We’re together. We’re a team. And we have a life that’s… well, let’s just say it’s never, ever boring.
PETER: Understatement of the century, MJ. Because while my life is pretty consistently weird, yours… yours has taken some truly unexpected turns.
MARY JANE: (A mischievous glint appears in her emerald eyes) Oh, you have no idea. Or, well, I guess you’re about to. We thought we’d share some stories. The kind of stories they’d never let us tell in the funny pages these days. The good stuff.
PETER: (Rubs the back of his neck, a familiar gesture) Right. The… ahem… transformative experiences.
MARY JANE: (She grins, a brilliantly wicked smile) That’s one way to put it. Remember that time, a few years back, when that weird black goo from space didn’t latch onto you, Tiger? It decided it liked my fashion sense better, including improving everything within me.
PETER: How could I forget? I came home and instead of my beautiful wife, there was… a towering, powerful, incredibly voluptuous creature of pure alien symbiote. White spider emblem and everything. You called yourself… Venom or Venomess.
MARY JANE: (Her voice drops to a playful, sultry growl) We… are Venom. And we had… needs. Very specific, very physical needs. And let’s just say my strong, sticky husband was more than equipped to handle them. All those extra tendrils came in very handy.
PETER: (His face is now completely red. He fans himself with his hand.) Wow. Okay. Yeah. That’s… that’s a story. Then there was the summer you and I went to Central Park and found that weird geode that fell from the sky…
MARY JANE: Oh, the Omnitrix! Yeah, instead of a kid named Ben Tennyson, I received it instead. One touch and suddenly I had access to many alien forms. Pyronite was great for roasting marshmallows, Tetramand was basically She-Hulk but an alien with four arms and four eyes… but my personal favorite is Galvanic Mechamorph because it would allow us to-
PETER: (Sputtering) MJ! The kids might—
MARY JANE: They’re not listening! Relax, tiger. Then there was the mishap at that gala at the Natural History Museum. I fell right into the exhibit…
PETER: The Clayface exhibit! Yes, I remember. Plus, Bruce Wayne and Reed Richards help you recover yourself from Joker. At that time, it didn't work right away. By the time I takes you home, you’re starts to become a shapeshifting mound of living clay. And you know what? You were still the most beautiful woman in the room. Even if you're a blob clay monster. That was… a unique experience.
MARY JANE: (Winking) You didn’t complain. Not once. And let’s not forget your own upgrade, Mr. Kamen Rider. When that ancient belt fused with your web-shooters…
PETER: (Strikes a mock-heroic pose) “Henshin!” Yeah, the armored suit was cool, I’ll admit. But it was nothing compared to you bursting through our bedroom wall as Cutey Honey, ready for… ahem… ‘action’.
MARY JANE: “Honey Flash!” It was all in the name of justice. And very, very thorough lovemaking.
(They both laugh, lost in the memory for a moment. Peter looks at MJ with utter love.)
PETER: Through it all… symbiote, aliens, clay, magical girl transformations, and many things… you’ve always been you, MJ. My Mary Jane. And I wouldn’t change a single, bizarre, incredible second of it.
MARY JANE: Me neither, Tiger. Me neither. Now, how about we tell our friends here about the time I—
(Suddenly, a door bursts open off-screen. A young girl, MAYDAY PARKER, about 8 years old, runs in, followed by her little brother, BENJY, who’s about 5.)
MAYDAY: Mom! Dad! Uncle Johnny is on fire in the backyard again!
BENJY: (Holding a action figure) He says it’s ‘flame on’ but it’s just the barbecue! It’s boring!
(Peter and MJ look at each other and sigh in perfect, happy unison.)
PETER: (To the ‘camera’, shrugging apologetically) Duty—and family—calls. Don’t worry, True Believers… there are plenty more stories where those came from.
MARY JANE: (Blows a kiss) And they’re all much, much better than ‘One More Day’. Promise!
(They get up from the couch, Peter swooping Benjy into his arms while MJ puts an arm around Mayday, and they walk out of the frame together, a perfect, loving, chaotic family.)
[STORY TITLE CARD APPEARS:]
PETER PARKER THE AMAZING SPIDER-MAN & MARY-JANE WITH MANY TRANSFORMATIONS STORIES
[UPCOMING ATTRACTIONS LIST:]
* Spider-Man/RedPool What if Mary Jane becomes Lady Deadpool or Gwenpool
* Spider-Man & Ms. Mary Marvel What if Mary-Jane wields the power of SHAZAM and becomes Ms. Marvel?
* Spider-Man & Red Inferno What if Mary-Jane becomes Red Tornado's sister
* Spider-Man & Witchblade What if Mary Jane can wields the power of Witchblade and able to transforms into previous host
* Peter Parker and Mary-Jane - The Amazing SPIDER-MAN & Venomess What if Mary-Jane bonds and has the symbiote at first instead Peter Parker.
* Spider-Man & MJ-10 What if Mary-Jane wields and have the Omnitrix instead of Ben Tennyson
* Spider-Man & ClayMJ MJ becomes a shapeshifting clay creature, and Peter proves his love is more than skin deep.
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Home from college and stuck in his childhood bedroom, a restless young man discovers a bizarre side-effect of his meditation practice: the ability to astral project into the bodies of other people.
My breath slowed, easing into the steady rhythm I’d been practicing. The YouTube guru’s voice was a distant murmur in my earbuds. Let your consciousness expand beyond the physical form. Feel the boundaries of your body dissolve… I always felt a little silly doing this in my bedroom, the glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling my only witness. But tonight, something was different. A strange, pulling sensation started behind my navel, like a gentle but insistent hook.
I tried to ignore it, to focus on my breathing, but the tug grew stronger. The feeling of my own body—the weight of my limbs on the bed, the pressure of the mattress against my back—suddenly vanished. There was a dizzying rush of color and sound, a sensation of being pulled through a narrow, dark tunnel at impossible speed.
Then, with a soft thump I felt I heard more than heard, everything stopped. A weight... A different kind of weight. My chest felt heavy, supported. My hips felt wider.
I blinked. This wasn’t my room. The air smelled of lavender and expensive perfume. I looked down.
My hands. They were not my hands. They were smaller, with slender fingers tipped with perfectly manicured, pale pink nails. A delicate silver bracelet hung from one wrist. I wore a silk robe, peach, tied loosely at the waist. My heart—no, her heart—hammered against my ribs.
A wave of vertigo hit me, followed by a flood of images that weren’t mine. Lydia. Her name is Lydia. A memory of her laughing with my step mom at the mailbox, holding a grocery bag. Another of her watering her roses in a sun dress last weekend. Before I left for college, she'd always waved at me, a kind, almost shy smile on her face.
Mrs. Henderson from next door. The hot MILF all my friends whispered about but who just seemed… nice.
I was inside Lydia Henderson.
Panic surged, a cold, sharp spike. I needed to get back. I tried to concentrate, to will myself back to my own body lying on my bed, but nothing happened. The panic subsided, replaced by a trembling, awe-filled curiosity. I was here. In her.
I turned, my movements unfamiliar and graceful, and caught my reflection in a full-length mirror mounted on the closet door.
Wow.
She was… stunning. Her auburn hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders. Her green-flecked hazel eyes, were wide with an expression I knew was my own shock staring back. The silk robe hinted at the curves beneath. A lifetime of curious, stolen glances from my bedroom window hadn’t prepared me for the reality of being inside this body. A thrill, warm and forbidden, shot through me.
My gaze drifted past my—her—reflection to the rest of the walk-in closet behind me. The curiosity, always simmering just beneath the surface, roared to life. I’d always wondered. About the feel of it, the look of it, the secret world of it.
There I was surrounded by a forest of silks, satins, and soft, colorful fabrics.
Almost without conscious thought, my hands went to the tie of the robe. It fell open. She—I—was wearing matching peach lace lingerie underneath. A bra that cupped and lifted, panties that were just a delicate scrap of fabric. A heat that had nothing to do with possession flushed through me. It was awe. It was a secret, answered question.
I reached for a hanger. A slip of crimson satin and black lace. A teddy. My fingers trembled as I shimmied out of the peach set and into the red one. The cool satin whispered over my hips, the lace hugged curves I’d never had. I looked in the mirror again. A stranger, yet me. A beautiful, secret version of myself.
I spent what felt like hours, lost in a tactile wonderland. I tried on a tight pencil skirt and a cream-colored cashmere sweater, feeling the sophisticated drape. I found a pair of sky-high black heels and clomped around the carpet, her body’s balance instinctively better than mine would have been. The click-click of the heels on the hardwood floor was a powerful, feminine sound.
Then I found the vanity. An array of pots, pencils, and brushes that might as well have been alien technology. But as I picked up a tube of lipstick, a strange thing happened. A knowledge that wasn’t mine surfaced. A muscle memory. My hand steadied. I uncapped the tube, a deep rose color, and applied it to “my” lips in smooth, practiced strokes. Then eyeliner, a flick at the corner that appeared as if by magic. Blush dusted on the apples of cheeks I could now feel smiling back at me. I was using her memories, her routines. It was like riding a bike for the first time, but the bike knew the way.
When I opened my eyes and looked in the vanity mirror, a perfectly made-up Lydia Henderson looked back. It was her face, but the light in the eyes… that was all my stunned, giddy wonder.
I was awestruck. Transformed. The innocent, cookie-baking neighbor I saw from my window was also this… this goddess of satin and expertly applied liner.
I was floating on a cloud of discovery when another memory-nudge pulled me. It was stronger, more insistent than the makeup knowledge. It was a pull of routine, of duty, tinged with a secret thrill. It led me out of the bedroom, down the hall, to a door I hadn’t noticed before. It was plain, white, unlike the other decorative doors in the house.
I turned the knob and entered.
The room was an office, but unlike any office I'd ever seen before.
It was a small, soundproofed office. The dominant feature was a large desk with a ring light, a high-quality webcam, and a monitor. Plush, sexy outfits hung on a rack in the corner—things far more daring than the clothes in her main closet. Leather, lace, PVC. A shelf held… toys. Neatly arranged, clean, professional.
The cam girl setup was so blatant, so at odds with the cozy suburban mom exterior, that I just stared. Another memory-flash, not mine: the feeling of logging in, of a stage name—ScarletVelvet—of the focused, performative smile that wasn’t the same as the one she gave me when I mowed her lawn.
My heart hammered again, but with a different kind of adrenaline. This was her secret. And now it was mine. The monitor was dark, but a schedule was pinned to a corkboard. A highlighted time slot was in 15 minutes.
The idea hit me with the force of a train. It was insane. Reckless. Unforgivably invasive.
I couldn’t help it.
I sat down in the plush rolling chair. It adjusted to her—to my—body perfectly. I looked at the login screen for the streaming site. My fingers hovered over the keyboard. I didn’t know the password. But I closed my eyes, and let her surface. Not her consciousness, but the automatic, procedural memory. Like the makeup. My fingers moved on their own, typing in a string of characters. The dashboard for ScarletVelvet loaded.
Five minutes to showtime.
I was sweating. I used one of her memories to pick an outfit—a black lace bodysuit that left very little to the imagination. I put it on, my hands fumbling more now with the nervous energy. I checked the angles of the camera using the preview on the monitor. I fluffed the auburn hair, reapplied the lipstick.
The clock hit the hour. A deep breath. I clicked “Go Live.”
The viewer count started ticking up almost immediately. 10… 25… 50. A chat window bloomed to life on the side screen.
Hey Scarlet!
Missed you last night!
You look hot.
A wave of paralyzing stage fright hit me. This wasn’t my memory, this was live. I had to perform. I swallowed, and offered a smile to the camera. It felt brittle.
“H-hey everyone,” I said, and her voice came out, smoother, sexier than my own cracking tenor. But the cadence was off. I sounded unsure.
You okay, Scarlet? You seem nervous.
I needed to act. I leaned back in the chair, another fragment of her muscle memory guiding me into a pose that was both relaxed and deliberately alluring. “Just a long day,” I purred, trying to mimic the smoky tone I’d heard in the memory-flash. It was closer. “But I’m happy to be here with you all now.”
I let my hands—her elegant, manicured hands—trail down over the lace of the bodysuit. The chat scrolled faster.
Yeah, that’s it.
So beautiful.
I was mimicking, a poor copy of the real ScarletVelvet. I was pulling from stolen glimpses, trying to project a sultry confidence I didn’t feel. I talked, my words stilted, my gestures a half-second too slow or too fast. But the viewers didn’t seem to mind too much. They were here for the visual, for the fantasy.
Then, a private message pinged. A username I didn’t recognize, with a high tipping status. The message read: Something’s different tonight. The light in your eyes. It’s… curious. Shy, almost. I like it. A lot.
The message sent a shiver down my spine—her spine. He saw it. He saw me. The clumsy, curious boy peeking out from behind this beautiful woman’s eyes. The revelation was no longer about her secret. It was about my own, reflected back at me through a stranger’s screen. The thrill was electric, terrifying, and utterly intoxicating. I was seen, yet completely hidden. And for the first time since I’d tumbled into this body, I didn’t want to leave.
The stream ended with my heart trying to claw its way out of Mrs. Henderson’s—my—chest. I clicked ‘End Broadcast’ and sat in the silent, neon-lit room, the ghost of a hundred anonymous compliments buzzing in my ears. The adrenaline crash was monumental. A deep, shuddering fatigue pulled at my limbs, at my borrowed eyes. Stumbling back to the master bedroom, I peeled off the black lace bodysuit, leaving it in a heap on the plush carpet. I didn’t have the energy to be neat. In a daze, I pulled on one of her soft cotton nightgowns from a drawer and collapsed into the enormous bed.
The scent of her shampoo on the pillows was the last thing I registered before a deep, black nothingness swallowed me.
***
I woke up with a jolt, my own thin mattress hard beneath my back. Morning light, harsh and familiar, streamed through my blinds. I was in my boxers and a faded band t-shirt. I was me. Just me.
For a long minute, I just lay there, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling I’d put up when I was ten. Had it been a dream? A hyper-vivid, wildly inappropriate stress-dream about my neighbor? It felt too detailed, too real. The weight of the heels. The slick texture of the lipstick. The cold thrill of the chat scrolling by.
I grabbed my laptop from my nightstand, my fingers clumsy. My search history felt like a crime scene. I typed in the site name from the memory, then, hesitantly, the username: ScarletVelvet.
There it was. A profile. A teaser image that was absolutely, unmistakably Mrs. Henderson, though with a smolder I’d never seen in daylight. My mouth went dry. With a trembling click, I navigated to her recent videos. And there, at the top, uploaded six hours ago: “Scarlet’s Shy Night – Live 10/23.”
I didn’t buy it. I couldn’t. I just hit play.
And there I was. Or rather, there she was, with me piloting. The footage was crystal clear. I saw the slight, uncharacteristic hesitation in my smile. The way my eyes kept flicking to the chat, wide with a panic I’d tried to hide. I heard my stolen voice say, “Just a long day,” with that imperfect, copied purr. I watched myself trail a hand over the lace, the movement a half-beat off from the real Scarlet’s confident flair.
It was real. Undeniable. A hysterical laugh bubbled in my throat, immediately choked by a wave of gut-churning guilt. And beneath the guilt, a flicker of that same, electrifying curiosity.
I spent the day in a fog, jumping at every sound. I saw Mrs. Henderson bringing in her mail in the afternoon, wearing yoga pants and a loose sweatshirt, her hair in a messy bun. She looked tired, but normal. Innocent. She gave a small, casual wave to someone across the street. The duality was mind-breaking.
As night fell, the pull became magnetic. The fear was still there, a cold stone in my stomach, but it was outweighed by the need to know, to feel that transformation again. To have an answer to a question I’d never dared ask out loud.
I sat on my bedroom floor again. No guided meditation this time. Just silence, and a focused, desperate intention. Take me back. Let me in.
The lurch was less violent this time, more like a swift, sinking drift. The lavender scent hit my nostrils. Weight. Softness. Curve.
I opened my eyes in her dark bedroom. Success.
This time, the panic was a minor tremor, quickly subdued by a sense of purpose. I went to her closet, but bypassed the crimson teddies and silk robes. I picked out a pair of dark, well-fitting jeans, a simple black long-sleeved tee, and a comfortable cardigan. I found sensible flats. I looked in the mirror: suburban mom ready for errands. Perfect.
Driving her car was another surge of alien-yet-familiar memory. My hands on the wheel were smaller, my perspective different. The weird feeling of a tight seat-belt resting in the valley of my chest. I made it to the mall, a nervous excitement humming in my veins. This was the test. To be in this body, in the world.
I went to a department store area I’d never dared enter before: the women’s lingerie section. Surrounded by racks of lace and satin, my face flushed. But no one looked twice at a woman browsing bras. The freedom was dizzying. I selected a few sets—a delicate sky blue, a bold leopard print—using her sense of size and fit. I held them up, imagining them on this body. It was a shopping trip from a dream.
Then, emboldened, I went to the trendy clothing stores. I tried on flowy dresses that swirled around my knees, a tight leather skirt that made my heart race, and a ridiculously expensive cashmere sweater that felt like a cloud. In the fitting room, under the fluorescent lights, I just stared. I turned, examining the lines of her—my—body from every angle. It wasn’t just curiosity anymore. It was a kind of reverence.
The final stop took every ounce of my courage. A sex shop, discreetly located on the outskirts of the mall. A bell chimed as I walked in.
The girl behind the counter looked up. She was probably in her early twenties, with dyed black hair, a septum piercing, and an impressive array of tattoos snaking up her arms. Goth, cool, and utterly intimidating.
“Help you find anything?” she asked, her voice not unfriendly.
“Just… browsing,” I said, Mrs. Henderson’s voice coming out as a shy squeak. I wandered the aisles, overwhelmed by the sheer variety of it all. I felt the Goth girl’s eyes on me, the conservative cardigan-clad mom in a den of iniquity.
Eventually, curiosity overcoming shame, I picked up a small, sleek vibrator, examining it like it was an artifact from another planet.
“Good choice,” the girl said, appearing at the end of the aisle with a knowing smile. “That one’s discreet but powerful. Popular with… beginners. But definitely something you could handle.”
Our eyes met. Hers were sharp, kohl-rimmed, and saw way too much. A faint, amused smile played on her lips. “You seem different today, Mrs. Henderson.”
I nearly dropped the vibrator. She knew her? Of course she did. Small town. My blood ran cold, then hot. I managed a weak smile, channeling every ounce of innocent-neighbor energy I’d observed. “Just… exploring,” I whispered.
“Well, have fun,” she said, her smile turning into a full-blown grin. “Exploration is good for the soul.”
I paid in cash, my face burning, and fled.
Back in the sanctuary of her house, the adrenaline shifted into something slower, warmer, more insistent. The purchases were spread on her bed. The new lingerie. The sleek little toy from the shop.
I put on the sky blue set. It was even prettier on. The contrast against her skin was beautiful. I lay back on the bed, the memories of her own solo routines blending with my own frantic, curiosity. My touch was clumsy at first, then, guided by her body’s own innate knowledge, more sure. It was a bizarre, out-of-body experience that was intensely, overwhelmingly in-body. I was both the explorer and the territory. The pleasure, when it crested, was a shocking, all-consuming wave that left me gasping, shuddering, utterly spent in a way I’d never been in my own body.
In the heavy, satisfied silence that followed, lulled by the fading echoes of sensation and the soft cotton sheets, my borrowed eyes grew heavy. The last coherent thought I had was that this was the deepest, most content sleep I’d ever known.
***
I awoke to the sound of my own alarm blaring, sunlight once again piercing my own familiar, boring blinds. I was back in my scrawny body, tangled in my own sheets, home for the holiday break. For a moment, I just breathed, the phantom sensations of silk and release still tingling at the edges of my awareness. It was real. It had happened again.
And I already knew, with a certainty that scared and thrilled me, that I would be trying to go back as soon as I could.
The weekend stretched before me, a blank canvas of time. The two previous nights had been fleeting infiltrations. Today, I wanted more. I wanted a full day in her skin.
I sat on my floor as the first pale light of Saturday crept into my room. I focused, not on white light or my heart center, but on the memory of lavender and the feeling of satin against skin. The transition was smoother this time, less a lurch and more a conscious step through a door.
I arrived to the sound of running water and the humid, steamy scent of jasmine body wash. I was standing in her master bathroom, the glass shower door fogged, the silhouette of her body—my body—moving behind it. She was humming. I could feel the warm spray hitting my skin, the water sluicing over curves that were now mine. The sensation was immediate and intensely vivid. My hands—her hands—lifted almost of their own accord, slick with soap, gliding over the swell of breasts, the dip of a waist, the smooth plane of a stomach. It was a ritual washing, but for me, it was a breathtaking exploration.
The heat, the steam, the sheer physicality of it coiled a tight, urgent need low in my belly. As the water rained down, I let my hands wander with purpose, no longer just washing, but seeking. I leaned back against the cool tile, my breath hitching as my fingers found their way, guided by a knowledge both borrowed and innate. The climax in the shower was swift and shocking, a white-hot burst that made my knees weak, my stolen cries swallowed by the drumming water. I slumped, panting, the pleasure still echoing through nerve endings that weren't originally mine. It was incredible.
After, wrapped in a plush towel, I felt a strange, powerful confidence. I took my time. I blow-dried her auburn hair into the soft, shiny waves she usually wore. I applied makeup with the practiced ease her memories provided, creating that public-facing mask of friendly, approachable prettiness. I dressed in one of her nice casual outfits—dark jeans, a cream-colored V-neck sweater that clung in a flattering way, knee-high boots. I looked in the mirror and saw the perfect image of the neighbor my step mom would happily invite in for coffee.
The bold idea struck me then, sparkling with risk and a perverse curiosity. I would visit my house.
I walked the familiar short path, her heels clicking a confident rhythm on the sidewalk my own sneakers usually scuffed. Ringing my own doorbell was surreal.
My step mom answered, her face lighting up in a warm smile. “Lydia! What a nice surprise. Come in, come in! I was just about to have some coffee.”
“I was just out for a walk and thought I’d say hi,” I said, sliding effortlessly into Mrs. Henderson’s—Lydia’s—warm, slightly musical tone. It was eerie how easily it came, like putting on a well-worn coat from her memories of countless similar chats.
I followed my step mom into the kitchen, the familiar space looking different from this vantage point. She poured coffee, chattering about her plans to re-organize the garage. I nodded and smiled, sipping from the mug, the coffee tasting subtly different with her palate. I was leveraging her memories constantly: the way she held a mug, her opinion on the new neighborhood landscaping, her polite laugh. I was a puppet, and Lydia’s life was the set of strings.
"My son's back from college and could use something to do" my step mom asked with a conspiratorial wink. “Want me to send him over to help with some house work?”
“Oh that'd be perfect,” I heard myself say, and had to suppress a hysterical giggle. “He's a real sweet boy.”
After about twenty minutes of this bizarre charade, I saw my chance. “Would you mind if I excused myself to use your powder room?” I asked.
“Of course, you know where it is!”
I didn’t go to the downstairs powder room. With a thief’s heart, I padded quietly up the stairs, past the framed family photos that now seemed like artifacts from another life. My bedroom door was ajar. I peeked in.
There, sprawled on my bed, fully dressed and snoring softly, was me. Or rather, my empty body. It was the strangest sight of all—seeing my own lanky form from the outside, mouth slightly open, one arm flung over my forehead. A profound sense of dislocation washed over me, followed by a sharp, devious thrill.
I slipped inside and closed the door silently. I stared at my own sleeping face. Then, moving quickly, I pulled out the phone from my borrowed purse—Lydia’s phone. I propped it up on my desk, angled perfectly toward the bed, and hit record.
Then I approached the bed. My own body smelled like my cheap deodorant and the fabric of my old comforter. Gently, I unbuckled my own jeans. My hands, small and soft, worked with a clinical curiosity that was also deeply erotic. I gave my unconscious self a handjob, watching the physiological reaction with a detached, fascinated awe. My shaft thick and hard between my hands. Leaning down, I then took myself into my mouth—her mouth. The sensations were a confusing feedback loop: the physical act, the visual of my own body, the knowledge of who was doing it. It was narcissistic, invasive, and unbearably hot. My body gave in, shooting a small load that covered my face and I made sure the phone captured it all.
I quickly cleaned everything up with a tissue from my nightstand, redid my jeans, and grabbed the phone. I stopped the recording. With shaky fingers, I airdropped the video file to my own phone, which was lying on the nightstand next to my sleeping head. I then meticulously deleted the video from Lydia’s phone and cleared the ‘recently deleted’ folder. The evidence was now only in my possession.
Taking a steadying breath, I smoothed down my sweater and left my bedroom, closing the door behind me. I rejoined my mom in the kitchen, my cheeks flushed.
“Everything alright? You look a little flushed,” my mom said.
“Fine! Just a bit warm,” I said, forcing another smile. I snuck glances at my mom as we talked, seeing the familiar lines of her face from this new, feminine perspective. I was hyper-aware of the body I inhabited, the sway of Lydia’s hair, the brush of her sweater against her breasts—my breasts—as I moved.
The afternoon wore on in a surreal bubble. I was trying to decide what to do next with this borrowed life. Go shopping again? Experiment more at her cam setup? The possibilities were a dizzying array in my mind.
And then, without warning, it happened. A sudden, tugging sensation behind my navel, like a rubber band stretched too far and snapping back.
***
I gasped, my eyes flying open. I was on my back in my own bed, the afternoon sun now at a different angle. My body felt instantly familiar and was overcome with a feeling of afterglow. The phantom sensations of the shower, of my own touch, still buzzed on my skin like a fading sunburn.
The memory of the video jolted me into action. I scrambled for my phone. There it was. A file received from Lydia Henderson’s device. I didn’t open it. I just stared at the filename, a cold sweat breaking out. It was real. All of it.
I changed my clothes in a frenzy, pulling on a fresh shirt and jeans, my mind reeling. I had to see. I had to know if she was still there.
I practically flew down the stairs, skidding to a halt in the doorway to the living room. My step mom was still there, on the sofa.
And sitting across from her, sipping the last of her coffee, was Mrs. Henderson—Lydia. She looked perfectly composed, her makeup fresh, her smile easy.
My step mom turned. “Oh, speak of the devil! Lydia was just telling me about her new rose bushes.”
Lydia’s eyes met mine. Those green-flecked hazel eyes held mine for a long, deliberate second. Then, as my step mom glanced down to pick up her own mug, Lydia’s expression shifted. The pleasant neighborly mask dissolved into something else—something knowing, sharp, and utterly mischievous. She gave me a slow, deliberate wink.
Then, her hand resting casually on her knee, hidden from my step mom’s view by the coffee table, she made a quick, unmistakable motion: her fist pumping up and down in the universal sign for a jerk-off.
My blood turned to ice. My stomach dropped through the floor.
She knew. Somehow she knew.
Before I could react, even to breathe, she smiled sweetly at my step mom, stood up, and said, “Well, I should let you two get on with your weekend. Thanks for the coffee, Ellen!”
She walked past me to the door, her perfume trailing behind her. As she reached for the knob, she paused, looked back over her shoulder directly at me, and mouthed silent words with a smirk that was anything but innocent:
“I hope you had fun.”
***
The meditation was a failure. For three nights straight, I sat on my floor until my legs cramped, focusing every ounce of my will on the memory of lavender and silk. Nothing. Just the quiet hum of my own thoughts and the growing dread that my window into Lydia’s world had slammed shut forever.
So when my step-mom Ellen cheerfully announced on Tuesday that she’d “volunteered” me to help Mrs. Henderson haul some old boxes to her attic, my blood ran cold. This wasn’t a coincidence. This was a reckoning.
I stood on Lydia’s porch, my heart trying to batter its way through my ribs. I rang the bell.
She answered almost instantly, as if she’d been waiting. She wore simple leggings and a tank top, her hair in a ponytail. No makeup. She looked like the mom next door, but her eyes held a storm.
“Come in,” she said, her voice flat. I shuffled inside, the familiar scent of her home now feeling like a crime scene.
The door closed behind me with a soft, final click. We stood in her foyer. The air was thick with unspoken things.
She crossed her arms, fixing me with a hard stare. “So. You want to tell me what the hell that was? Snooping through my things? Wearing my clothes? Going on my stream?” Her tone was sharp, accusatory. “That is some seriously messed up, perverted shit.”
I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. My face burned with shame and terror. I was going to be arrested. My life was over. I managed a strangled, “I… I’m so sorry, Mrs. Henderson, I don’t know what—”
She burst out laughing.
It wasn’t a cruel laugh, but a rich, genuine sound that filled the hallway. The angry mask melted away, replaced by sparkling amusement. “Oh, god, look at your face!” she wheezed, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. “Priceless. I’m just messing with you, kid. Everything’s fine.”
I sagged against the wall, lightheaded with relief. “W-what?”
“Everything’s fine,” she repeated, grinning. “Well, as fine as it can be when you find out your neighbor’s been borrowing your body like a rental car.” She jerked her head toward the kitchen. “C’mon. I made iced tea.”
In a daze, I followed her. She poured two glasses, leaning against the counter. “So,” she began, her tone now conspiratorial. “That goth chick at Sinister Delights? Cute, right? She texted me after you left, said I seemed ‘different.’ More fun.”
I could only stare, my mind struggling to catch up.
“And the mall,” she continued, sipping her drink. “Good choices. The leopard print? Bold. I’d have never picked it for myself, but I kinda love it.”
I just held the cold glass, unable to process her words.
“And the cam show,” she continued, leaning against the counter, a sly smile on her lips. “Shy Girl Next Door? That was a brilliant angle. The nervous glances, the slightly clumsy moves… it was authentic. Viewers ate it up. My tips were 30% higher than usual.”
Her expression softened, turning serious for a moment. “That, you do have to keep to yourself. My… professional life. That’s a non-negotiable secret.”
“Of course,” I blurted. “Never. I swear.”
“I believe you,” she said, and she seemed to mean it. “And the video? Of me… you know, with you?” She shook her head, a faint blush on her cheeks that wasn’t entirely from amusement. “You can keep that. Consider it a… weird souvenir.”
The casual way she said it was staggering. “Why… why are you being so cool about this?” I finally managed to whisper.
Lydia sighed, setting her glass down. She looked at me, her gaze turning inward and serious. “Because it wasn’t just you in my head. When you left… something stayed. A little echo. A feeling. I can’t access your memories, but I can feel… a presence. A younger, curious, kinda horny male presence. It’s faint, like a radio playing in another room, but it’s there. It’s why I knew it was you at the door. I felt the echo… resonate.”
She walked over and put a hand on my shoulder. It was a strangely companionable gesture. “I don’t feel violated. I feel… like I owe you a favor. You left a piece of yourself here, and I feel like I should treat you like a new found brother. So.” She shrugged, a new, determined glint in her eye. “I’m going to do you a solid. One for the road, since you're about to go back to college and can’t seem to get back in on your own.”
Before I could ask what she meant, she took my hand. “Come on.”
She led me, stunned and silent, to her bedroom. She pointed to the edge of the bed. “Sit.”
I sat. She went to her dresser, opened a drawer, and pulled out the leopard print lingerie I’d bought. She gave me a wink, then disappeared into the walk-in closet to change.
When she emerged, my breath caught. The leopard print was even more stunning on her when she wore it with intention. The bralette pushed her breasts up, the high-cut briefs accentuating the curve of her hips. She looked like a predator, confident and sleek.
“Lie back,” she instructed softly.
I did. She knelt on the floor between my knees, her hands deftly undoing my jeans. This was nothing like the frantic, secretive act in my bedroom. This was slow, deliberate, and performed with a masterful skill that had me trembling in seconds. Her mouth was hot and knowing, her hands roaming my thighs and stomach. She took her time, bringing me to the edge twice with torturous skill before pulling back with a soft laugh. “Not yet.”
Then she stood up, shimmied out of the briefs, and climbed onto the bed, straddling me. She guided me inside her, sinking down with a slow, deep sigh that was part pleasure, part relief.
The sex was nothing I had ever experienced. It was passionate but controlled, intense but deeply communicative. She rode me with a powerful, rolling rhythm, her eyes locked on mine. She leaned down, her breasts brushing my chest, and kissed me—a deep, searching kiss that tasted of iced tea and mint. The leopard print lace scraped deliciously against my skin.
“You feel that?” she murmured against my lips, her hips never stopping their movement. “That’s all you. That echo. It’s like I know what you like before you do.”
She was right. Every shift, every touch, was perfectly aligned with my building pleasure. It was as if she was reading the ghost I’d left inside her. The climax, when it hit me, was a cataclysmic wave that tore a raw, guttural shout from my throat. She followed me over a moment later, clenching around me, her own cry muffled in the crook of my neck.
We lay together for a long time, tangled and sweating, the scent of sex and her perfume filling the air. She eventually slipped off me and curled against my side. “A proper goodbye,” she whispered, before her breathing evened out into sleep.
***
I woke up alone in my own bed. The gray light of dawn filtered in. The sheets smelled of my own laundry detergent. For a dizzying moment, I was sure it had all been another impossibly vivid dream.
Then I felt the pleasant ache in my muscles. I saw the faint, smudged trace of lipstick—a peachy nude, Morning Kiss—on my collar.
And I remembered her words. You left a piece of yourself here.
That evening, restless and haunted, I sat on my bedroom floor once more. Not trying to reach for Lydia. Just trying to quiet the echo. My consciousness drifted, untethered, through the familiar walls of my house.
I floated into the master bedroom. My step mom, Ellen, was there, sitting at her vanity in a robe, carefully applying night cream. I hovered, a silent, invisible observer. She hummed a tune from some old musical, her face relaxed and kind in the soft light.
The thought, sudden and unbidden, shimmered in my non-corporeal mind. A new door. A different set of strings to pull. The curiosity, now awakened and fed, was a hungry thing.
I floated closer, watching the steady rise and fall of her shoulders as she breathed.
The question hung in the ether, heavy with possibility.
Do I want to?
My breath slowed, easing into the steady rhythm I’d been practicing. The YouTube guru’s voice was a distant murmur in my earbuds. Let your consciousness expand beyond the physical form. Feel the boundaries of your body dissolve… I always felt a little silly doing this in my bedroom, the glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling my only witness. But tonight, something was different. A strange, pulling sensation started behind my navel, like a gentle but insistent hook.
I tried to ignore it, to focus on my breathing, but the tug grew stronger. The feeling of my own body—the weight of my limbs on the bed, the pressure of the mattress against my back—suddenly vanished. There was a dizzying rush of color and sound, a sensation of being pulled through a narrow, dark tunnel at impossible speed.
Then, with a soft thump I felt I heard more than heard, everything stopped. A weight... A different kind of weight. My chest felt heavy, supported. My hips felt wider.
I blinked. This wasn’t my room. The air smelled of lavender and expensive perfume. I looked down.
My hands. They were not my hands. They were smaller, with slender fingers tipped with perfectly manicured, pale pink nails. A delicate silver bracelet hung from one wrist. I wore a silk robe, peach, tied loosely at the waist. My heart—no, her heart—hammered against my ribs.
A wave of vertigo hit me, followed by a flood of images that weren’t mine. Lydia. Her name is Lydia. A memory of her laughing with my step mom at the mailbox, holding a grocery bag. Another of her watering her roses in a sun dress last weekend. Before I left for college, she'd always waved at me, a kind, almost shy smile on her face.
Mrs. Henderson from next door. The hot MILF all my friends whispered about but who just seemed… nice.
I was inside Lydia Henderson.
Panic surged, a cold, sharp spike. I needed to get back. I tried to concentrate, to will myself back to my own body lying on my bed, but nothing happened. The panic subsided, replaced by a trembling, awe-filled curiosity. I was here. In her.
I turned, my movements unfamiliar and graceful, and caught my reflection in a full-length mirror mounted on the closet door.
Wow.
She was… stunning. Her auburn hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders. Her green-flecked hazel eyes, were wide with an expression I knew was my own shock staring back. The silk robe hinted at the curves beneath. A lifetime of curious, stolen glances from my bedroom window hadn’t prepared me for the reality of being inside this body. A thrill, warm and forbidden, shot through me.
My gaze drifted past my—her—reflection to the rest of the walk-in closet behind me. The curiosity, always simmering just beneath the surface, roared to life. I’d always wondered. About the feel of it, the look of it, the secret world of it.
There I was surrounded by a forest of silks, satins, and soft, colorful fabrics.
Almost without conscious thought, my hands went to the tie of the robe. It fell open. She—I—was wearing matching peach lace lingerie underneath. A bra that cupped and lifted, panties that were just a delicate scrap of fabric. A heat that had nothing to do with possession flushed through me. It was awe. It was a secret, answered question.
I reached for a hanger. A slip of crimson satin and black lace. A teddy. My fingers trembled as I shimmied out of the peach set and into the red one. The cool satin whispered over my hips, the lace hugged curves I’d never had. I looked in the mirror again. A stranger, yet me. A beautiful, secret version of myself.
I spent what felt like hours, lost in a tactile wonderland. I tried on a tight pencil skirt and a cream-colored cashmere sweater, feeling the sophisticated drape. I found a pair of sky-high black heels and clomped around the carpet, her body’s balance instinctively better than mine would have been. The click-click of the heels on the hardwood floor was a powerful, feminine sound.
Then I found the vanity. An array of pots, pencils, and brushes that might as well have been alien technology. But as I picked up a tube of lipstick, a strange thing happened. A knowledge that wasn’t mine surfaced. A muscle memory. My hand steadied. I uncapped the tube, a deep rose color, and applied it to “my” lips in smooth, practiced strokes. Then eyeliner, a flick at the corner that appeared as if by magic. Blush dusted on the apples of cheeks I could now feel smiling back at me. I was using her memories, her routines. It was like riding a bike for the first time, but the bike knew the way.
When I opened my eyes and looked in the vanity mirror, a perfectly made-up Lydia Henderson looked back. It was her face, but the light in the eyes… that was all my stunned, giddy wonder.
I was awestruck. Transformed. The innocent, cookie-baking neighbor I saw from my window was also this… this goddess of satin and expertly applied liner.
I was floating on a cloud of discovery when another memory-nudge pulled me. It was stronger, more insistent than the makeup knowledge. It was a pull of routine, of duty, tinged with a secret thrill. It led me out of the bedroom, down the hall, to a door I hadn’t noticed before. It was plain, white, unlike the other decorative doors in the house.
I turned the knob and entered.
The room was an office, but unlike any office I'd ever seen before.
It was a small, soundproofed office. The dominant feature was a large desk with a ring light, a high-quality webcam, and a monitor. Plush, sexy outfits hung on a rack in the corner—things far more daring than the clothes in her main closet. Leather, lace, PVC. A shelf held… toys. Neatly arranged, clean, professional.
The cam girl setup was so blatant, so at odds with the cozy suburban mom exterior, that I just stared. Another memory-flash, not mine: the feeling of logging in, of a stage name—ScarletVelvet—of the focused, performative smile that wasn’t the same as the one she gave me when I mowed her lawn.
My heart hammered again, but with a different kind of adrenaline. This was her secret. And now it was mine. The monitor was dark, but a schedule was pinned to a corkboard. A highlighted time slot was in 15 minutes.
The idea hit me with the force of a train. It was insane. Reckless. Unforgivably invasive.
I couldn’t help it.
I sat down in the plush rolling chair. It adjusted to her—to my—body perfectly. I looked at the login screen for the streaming site. My fingers hovered over the keyboard. I didn’t know the password. But I closed my eyes, and let her surface. Not her consciousness, but the automatic, procedural memory. Like the makeup. My fingers moved on their own, typing in a string of characters. The dashboard for ScarletVelvet loaded.
Five minutes to showtime.
I was sweating. I used one of her memories to pick an outfit—a black lace bodysuit that left very little to the imagination. I put it on, my hands fumbling more now with the nervous energy. I checked the angles of the camera using the preview on the monitor. I fluffed the auburn hair, reapplied the lipstick.
The clock hit the hour. A deep breath. I clicked “Go Live.”
The viewer count started ticking up almost immediately. 10… 25… 50. A chat window bloomed to life on the side screen.
Hey Scarlet!
Missed you last night!
You look hot.
A wave of paralyzing stage fright hit me. This wasn’t my memory, this was live. I had to perform. I swallowed, and offered a smile to the camera. It felt brittle.
“H-hey everyone,” I said, and her voice came out, smoother, sexier than my own cracking tenor. But the cadence was off. I sounded unsure.
You okay, Scarlet? You seem nervous.
I needed to act. I leaned back in the chair, another fragment of her muscle memory guiding me into a pose that was both relaxed and deliberately alluring. “Just a long day,” I purred, trying to mimic the smoky tone I’d heard in the memory-flash. It was closer. “But I’m happy to be here with you all now.”
I let my hands—her elegant, manicured hands—trail down over the lace of the bodysuit. The chat scrolled faster.
Yeah, that’s it.
So beautiful.
I was mimicking, a poor copy of the real ScarletVelvet. I was pulling from stolen glimpses, trying to project a sultry confidence I didn’t feel. I talked, my words stilted, my gestures a half-second too slow or too fast. But the viewers didn’t seem to mind too much. They were here for the visual, for the fantasy.
Then, a private message pinged. A username I didn’t recognize, with a high tipping status. The message read: Something’s different tonight. The light in your eyes. It’s… curious. Shy, almost. I like it. A lot.
The message sent a shiver down my spine—her spine. He saw it. He saw me. The clumsy, curious boy peeking out from behind this beautiful woman’s eyes. The revelation was no longer about her secret. It was about my own, reflected back at me through a stranger’s screen. The thrill was electric, terrifying, and utterly intoxicating. I was seen, yet completely hidden. And for the first time since I’d tumbled into this body, I didn’t want to leave.
The stream ended with my heart trying to claw its way out of Mrs. Henderson’s—my—chest. I clicked ‘End Broadcast’ and sat in the silent, neon-lit room, the ghost of a hundred anonymous compliments buzzing in my ears. The adrenaline crash was monumental. A deep, shuddering fatigue pulled at my limbs, at my borrowed eyes. Stumbling back to the master bedroom, I peeled off the black lace bodysuit, leaving it in a heap on the plush carpet. I didn’t have the energy to be neat. In a daze, I pulled on one of her soft cotton nightgowns from a drawer and collapsed into the enormous bed.
The scent of her shampoo on the pillows was the last thing I registered before a deep, black nothingness swallowed me.
***
I woke up with a jolt, my own thin mattress hard beneath my back. Morning light, harsh and familiar, streamed through my blinds. I was in my boxers and a faded band t-shirt. I was me. Just me.
For a long minute, I just lay there, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling I’d put up when I was ten. Had it been a dream? A hyper-vivid, wildly inappropriate stress-dream about my neighbor? It felt too detailed, too real. The weight of the heels. The slick texture of the lipstick. The cold thrill of the chat scrolling by.
I grabbed my laptop from my nightstand, my fingers clumsy. My search history felt like a crime scene. I typed in the site name from the memory, then, hesitantly, the username: ScarletVelvet.
There it was. A profile. A teaser image that was absolutely, unmistakably Mrs. Henderson, though with a smolder I’d never seen in daylight. My mouth went dry. With a trembling click, I navigated to her recent videos. And there, at the top, uploaded six hours ago: “Scarlet’s Shy Night – Live 10/23.”
I didn’t buy it. I couldn’t. I just hit play.
And there I was. Or rather, there she was, with me piloting. The footage was crystal clear. I saw the slight, uncharacteristic hesitation in my smile. The way my eyes kept flicking to the chat, wide with a panic I’d tried to hide. I heard my stolen voice say, “Just a long day,” with that imperfect, copied purr. I watched myself trail a hand over the lace, the movement a half-beat off from the real Scarlet’s confident flair.
It was real. Undeniable. A hysterical laugh bubbled in my throat, immediately choked by a wave of gut-churning guilt. And beneath the guilt, a flicker of that same, electrifying curiosity.
I spent the day in a fog, jumping at every sound. I saw Mrs. Henderson bringing in her mail in the afternoon, wearing yoga pants and a loose sweatshirt, her hair in a messy bun. She looked tired, but normal. Innocent. She gave a small, casual wave to someone across the street. The duality was mind-breaking.
As night fell, the pull became magnetic. The fear was still there, a cold stone in my stomach, but it was outweighed by the need to know, to feel that transformation again. To have an answer to a question I’d never dared ask out loud.
I sat on my bedroom floor again. No guided meditation this time. Just silence, and a focused, desperate intention. Take me back. Let me in.
The lurch was less violent this time, more like a swift, sinking drift. The lavender scent hit my nostrils. Weight. Softness. Curve.
I opened my eyes in her dark bedroom. Success.
This time, the panic was a minor tremor, quickly subdued by a sense of purpose. I went to her closet, but bypassed the crimson teddies and silk robes. I picked out a pair of dark, well-fitting jeans, a simple black long-sleeved tee, and a comfortable cardigan. I found sensible flats. I looked in the mirror: suburban mom ready for errands. Perfect.
Driving her car was another surge of alien-yet-familiar memory. My hands on the wheel were smaller, my perspective different. The weird feeling of a tight seat-belt resting in the valley of my chest. I made it to the mall, a nervous excitement humming in my veins. This was the test. To be in this body, in the world.
I went to a department store area I’d never dared enter before: the women’s lingerie section. Surrounded by racks of lace and satin, my face flushed. But no one looked twice at a woman browsing bras. The freedom was dizzying. I selected a few sets—a delicate sky blue, a bold leopard print—using her sense of size and fit. I held them up, imagining them on this body. It was a shopping trip from a dream.
Then, emboldened, I went to the trendy clothing stores. I tried on flowy dresses that swirled around my knees, a tight leather skirt that made my heart race, and a ridiculously expensive cashmere sweater that felt like a cloud. In the fitting room, under the fluorescent lights, I just stared. I turned, examining the lines of her—my—body from every angle. It wasn’t just curiosity anymore. It was a kind of reverence.
The final stop took every ounce of my courage. A sex shop, discreetly located on the outskirts of the mall. A bell chimed as I walked in.
The girl behind the counter looked up. She was probably in her early twenties, with dyed black hair, a septum piercing, and an impressive array of tattoos snaking up her arms. Goth, cool, and utterly intimidating.
“Help you find anything?” she asked, her voice not unfriendly.
“Just… browsing,” I said, Mrs. Henderson’s voice coming out as a shy squeak. I wandered the aisles, overwhelmed by the sheer variety of it all. I felt the Goth girl’s eyes on me, the conservative cardigan-clad mom in a den of iniquity.
Eventually, curiosity overcoming shame, I picked up a small, sleek vibrator, examining it like it was an artifact from another planet.
“Good choice,” the girl said, appearing at the end of the aisle with a knowing smile. “That one’s discreet but powerful. Popular with… beginners. But definitely something you could handle.”
Our eyes met. Hers were sharp, kohl-rimmed, and saw way too much. A faint, amused smile played on her lips. “You seem different today, Mrs. Henderson.”
I nearly dropped the vibrator. She knew her? Of course she did. Small town. My blood ran cold, then hot. I managed a weak smile, channeling every ounce of innocent-neighbor energy I’d observed. “Just… exploring,” I whispered.
“Well, have fun,” she said, her smile turning into a full-blown grin. “Exploration is good for the soul.”
I paid in cash, my face burning, and fled.
Back in the sanctuary of her house, the adrenaline shifted into something slower, warmer, more insistent. The purchases were spread on her bed. The new lingerie. The sleek little toy from the shop.
I put on the sky blue set. It was even prettier on. The contrast against her skin was beautiful. I lay back on the bed, the memories of her own solo routines blending with my own frantic, curiosity. My touch was clumsy at first, then, guided by her body’s own innate knowledge, more sure. It was a bizarre, out-of-body experience that was intensely, overwhelmingly in-body. I was both the explorer and the territory. The pleasure, when it crested, was a shocking, all-consuming wave that left me gasping, shuddering, utterly spent in a way I’d never been in my own body.
In the heavy, satisfied silence that followed, lulled by the fading echoes of sensation and the soft cotton sheets, my borrowed eyes grew heavy. The last coherent thought I had was that this was the deepest, most content sleep I’d ever known.
***
I awoke to the sound of my own alarm blaring, sunlight once again piercing my own familiar, boring blinds. I was back in my scrawny body, tangled in my own sheets, home for the holiday break. For a moment, I just breathed, the phantom sensations of silk and release still tingling at the edges of my awareness. It was real. It had happened again.
And I already knew, with a certainty that scared and thrilled me, that I would be trying to go back as soon as I could.
The weekend stretched before me, a blank canvas of time. The two previous nights had been fleeting infiltrations. Today, I wanted more. I wanted a full day in her skin.
I sat on my floor as the first pale light of Saturday crept into my room. I focused, not on white light or my heart center, but on the memory of lavender and the feeling of satin against skin. The transition was smoother this time, less a lurch and more a conscious step through a door.
I arrived to the sound of running water and the humid, steamy scent of jasmine body wash. I was standing in her master bathroom, the glass shower door fogged, the silhouette of her body—my body—moving behind it. She was humming. I could feel the warm spray hitting my skin, the water sluicing over curves that were now mine. The sensation was immediate and intensely vivid. My hands—her hands—lifted almost of their own accord, slick with soap, gliding over the swell of breasts, the dip of a waist, the smooth plane of a stomach. It was a ritual washing, but for me, it was a breathtaking exploration.
The heat, the steam, the sheer physicality of it coiled a tight, urgent need low in my belly. As the water rained down, I let my hands wander with purpose, no longer just washing, but seeking. I leaned back against the cool tile, my breath hitching as my fingers found their way, guided by a knowledge both borrowed and innate. The climax in the shower was swift and shocking, a white-hot burst that made my knees weak, my stolen cries swallowed by the drumming water. I slumped, panting, the pleasure still echoing through nerve endings that weren't originally mine. It was incredible.
After, wrapped in a plush towel, I felt a strange, powerful confidence. I took my time. I blow-dried her auburn hair into the soft, shiny waves she usually wore. I applied makeup with the practiced ease her memories provided, creating that public-facing mask of friendly, approachable prettiness. I dressed in one of her nice casual outfits—dark jeans, a cream-colored V-neck sweater that clung in a flattering way, knee-high boots. I looked in the mirror and saw the perfect image of the neighbor my step mom would happily invite in for coffee.
The bold idea struck me then, sparkling with risk and a perverse curiosity. I would visit my house.
I walked the familiar short path, her heels clicking a confident rhythm on the sidewalk my own sneakers usually scuffed. Ringing my own doorbell was surreal.
My step mom answered, her face lighting up in a warm smile. “Lydia! What a nice surprise. Come in, come in! I was just about to have some coffee.”
“I was just out for a walk and thought I’d say hi,” I said, sliding effortlessly into Mrs. Henderson’s—Lydia’s—warm, slightly musical tone. It was eerie how easily it came, like putting on a well-worn coat from her memories of countless similar chats.
I followed my step mom into the kitchen, the familiar space looking different from this vantage point. She poured coffee, chattering about her plans to re-organize the garage. I nodded and smiled, sipping from the mug, the coffee tasting subtly different with her palate. I was leveraging her memories constantly: the way she held a mug, her opinion on the new neighborhood landscaping, her polite laugh. I was a puppet, and Lydia’s life was the set of strings.
"My son's back from college and could use something to do" my step mom asked with a conspiratorial wink. “Want me to send him over to help with some house work?”
“Oh that'd be perfect,” I heard myself say, and had to suppress a hysterical giggle. “He's a real sweet boy.”
After about twenty minutes of this bizarre charade, I saw my chance. “Would you mind if I excused myself to use your powder room?” I asked.
“Of course, you know where it is!”
I didn’t go to the downstairs powder room. With a thief’s heart, I padded quietly up the stairs, past the framed family photos that now seemed like artifacts from another life. My bedroom door was ajar. I peeked in.
There, sprawled on my bed, fully dressed and snoring softly, was me. Or rather, my empty body. It was the strangest sight of all—seeing my own lanky form from the outside, mouth slightly open, one arm flung over my forehead. A profound sense of dislocation washed over me, followed by a sharp, devious thrill.
I slipped inside and closed the door silently. I stared at my own sleeping face. Then, moving quickly, I pulled out the phone from my borrowed purse—Lydia’s phone. I propped it up on my desk, angled perfectly toward the bed, and hit record.
Then I approached the bed. My own body smelled like my cheap deodorant and the fabric of my old comforter. Gently, I unbuckled my own jeans. My hands, small and soft, worked with a clinical curiosity that was also deeply erotic. I gave my unconscious self a handjob, watching the physiological reaction with a detached, fascinated awe. My shaft thick and hard between my hands. Leaning down, I then took myself into my mouth—her mouth. The sensations were a confusing feedback loop: the physical act, the visual of my own body, the knowledge of who was doing it. It was narcissistic, invasive, and unbearably hot. My body gave in, shooting a small load that covered my face and I made sure the phone captured it all.
I quickly cleaned everything up with a tissue from my nightstand, redid my jeans, and grabbed the phone. I stopped the recording. With shaky fingers, I airdropped the video file to my own phone, which was lying on the nightstand next to my sleeping head. I then meticulously deleted the video from Lydia’s phone and cleared the ‘recently deleted’ folder. The evidence was now only in my possession.
Taking a steadying breath, I smoothed down my sweater and left my bedroom, closing the door behind me. I rejoined my mom in the kitchen, my cheeks flushed.
“Everything alright? You look a little flushed,” my mom said.
“Fine! Just a bit warm,” I said, forcing another smile. I snuck glances at my mom as we talked, seeing the familiar lines of her face from this new, feminine perspective. I was hyper-aware of the body I inhabited, the sway of Lydia’s hair, the brush of her sweater against her breasts—my breasts—as I moved.
The afternoon wore on in a surreal bubble. I was trying to decide what to do next with this borrowed life. Go shopping again? Experiment more at her cam setup? The possibilities were a dizzying array in my mind.
And then, without warning, it happened. A sudden, tugging sensation behind my navel, like a rubber band stretched too far and snapping back.
***
I gasped, my eyes flying open. I was on my back in my own bed, the afternoon sun now at a different angle. My body felt instantly familiar and was overcome with a feeling of afterglow. The phantom sensations of the shower, of my own touch, still buzzed on my skin like a fading sunburn.
The memory of the video jolted me into action. I scrambled for my phone. There it was. A file received from Lydia Henderson’s device. I didn’t open it. I just stared at the filename, a cold sweat breaking out. It was real. All of it.
I changed my clothes in a frenzy, pulling on a fresh shirt and jeans, my mind reeling. I had to see. I had to know if she was still there.
I practically flew down the stairs, skidding to a halt in the doorway to the living room. My step mom was still there, on the sofa.
And sitting across from her, sipping the last of her coffee, was Mrs. Henderson—Lydia. She looked perfectly composed, her makeup fresh, her smile easy.
My step mom turned. “Oh, speak of the devil! Lydia was just telling me about her new rose bushes.”
Lydia’s eyes met mine. Those green-flecked hazel eyes held mine for a long, deliberate second. Then, as my step mom glanced down to pick up her own mug, Lydia’s expression shifted. The pleasant neighborly mask dissolved into something else—something knowing, sharp, and utterly mischievous. She gave me a slow, deliberate wink.
Then, her hand resting casually on her knee, hidden from my step mom’s view by the coffee table, she made a quick, unmistakable motion: her fist pumping up and down in the universal sign for a jerk-off.
My blood turned to ice. My stomach dropped through the floor.
She knew. Somehow she knew.
Before I could react, even to breathe, she smiled sweetly at my step mom, stood up, and said, “Well, I should let you two get on with your weekend. Thanks for the coffee, Ellen!”
She walked past me to the door, her perfume trailing behind her. As she reached for the knob, she paused, looked back over her shoulder directly at me, and mouthed silent words with a smirk that was anything but innocent:
“I hope you had fun.”
***
The meditation was a failure. For three nights straight, I sat on my floor until my legs cramped, focusing every ounce of my will on the memory of lavender and silk. Nothing. Just the quiet hum of my own thoughts and the growing dread that my window into Lydia’s world had slammed shut forever.
So when my step-mom Ellen cheerfully announced on Tuesday that she’d “volunteered” me to help Mrs. Henderson haul some old boxes to her attic, my blood ran cold. This wasn’t a coincidence. This was a reckoning.
I stood on Lydia’s porch, my heart trying to batter its way through my ribs. I rang the bell.
She answered almost instantly, as if she’d been waiting. She wore simple leggings and a tank top, her hair in a ponytail. No makeup. She looked like the mom next door, but her eyes held a storm.
“Come in,” she said, her voice flat. I shuffled inside, the familiar scent of her home now feeling like a crime scene.
The door closed behind me with a soft, final click. We stood in her foyer. The air was thick with unspoken things.
She crossed her arms, fixing me with a hard stare. “So. You want to tell me what the hell that was? Snooping through my things? Wearing my clothes? Going on my stream?” Her tone was sharp, accusatory. “That is some seriously messed up, perverted shit.”
I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. My face burned with shame and terror. I was going to be arrested. My life was over. I managed a strangled, “I… I’m so sorry, Mrs. Henderson, I don’t know what—”
She burst out laughing.
It wasn’t a cruel laugh, but a rich, genuine sound that filled the hallway. The angry mask melted away, replaced by sparkling amusement. “Oh, god, look at your face!” she wheezed, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. “Priceless. I’m just messing with you, kid. Everything’s fine.”
I sagged against the wall, lightheaded with relief. “W-what?”
“Everything’s fine,” she repeated, grinning. “Well, as fine as it can be when you find out your neighbor’s been borrowing your body like a rental car.” She jerked her head toward the kitchen. “C’mon. I made iced tea.”
In a daze, I followed her. She poured two glasses, leaning against the counter. “So,” she began, her tone now conspiratorial. “That goth chick at Sinister Delights? Cute, right? She texted me after you left, said I seemed ‘different.’ More fun.”
I could only stare, my mind struggling to catch up.
“And the mall,” she continued, sipping her drink. “Good choices. The leopard print? Bold. I’d have never picked it for myself, but I kinda love it.”
I just held the cold glass, unable to process her words.
“And the cam show,” she continued, leaning against the counter, a sly smile on her lips. “Shy Girl Next Door? That was a brilliant angle. The nervous glances, the slightly clumsy moves… it was authentic. Viewers ate it up. My tips were 30% higher than usual.”
Her expression softened, turning serious for a moment. “That, you do have to keep to yourself. My… professional life. That’s a non-negotiable secret.”
“Of course,” I blurted. “Never. I swear.”
“I believe you,” she said, and she seemed to mean it. “And the video? Of me… you know, with you?” She shook her head, a faint blush on her cheeks that wasn’t entirely from amusement. “You can keep that. Consider it a… weird souvenir.”
The casual way she said it was staggering. “Why… why are you being so cool about this?” I finally managed to whisper.
Lydia sighed, setting her glass down. She looked at me, her gaze turning inward and serious. “Because it wasn’t just you in my head. When you left… something stayed. A little echo. A feeling. I can’t access your memories, but I can feel… a presence. A younger, curious, kinda horny male presence. It’s faint, like a radio playing in another room, but it’s there. It’s why I knew it was you at the door. I felt the echo… resonate.”
She walked over and put a hand on my shoulder. It was a strangely companionable gesture. “I don’t feel violated. I feel… like I owe you a favor. You left a piece of yourself here, and I feel like I should treat you like a new found brother. So.” She shrugged, a new, determined glint in her eye. “I’m going to do you a solid. One for the road, since you're about to go back to college and can’t seem to get back in on your own.”
Before I could ask what she meant, she took my hand. “Come on.”
She led me, stunned and silent, to her bedroom. She pointed to the edge of the bed. “Sit.”
I sat. She went to her dresser, opened a drawer, and pulled out the leopard print lingerie I’d bought. She gave me a wink, then disappeared into the walk-in closet to change.
When she emerged, my breath caught. The leopard print was even more stunning on her when she wore it with intention. The bralette pushed her breasts up, the high-cut briefs accentuating the curve of her hips. She looked like a predator, confident and sleek.
“Lie back,” she instructed softly.
I did. She knelt on the floor between my knees, her hands deftly undoing my jeans. This was nothing like the frantic, secretive act in my bedroom. This was slow, deliberate, and performed with a masterful skill that had me trembling in seconds. Her mouth was hot and knowing, her hands roaming my thighs and stomach. She took her time, bringing me to the edge twice with torturous skill before pulling back with a soft laugh. “Not yet.”
Then she stood up, shimmied out of the briefs, and climbed onto the bed, straddling me. She guided me inside her, sinking down with a slow, deep sigh that was part pleasure, part relief.
The sex was nothing I had ever experienced. It was passionate but controlled, intense but deeply communicative. She rode me with a powerful, rolling rhythm, her eyes locked on mine. She leaned down, her breasts brushing my chest, and kissed me—a deep, searching kiss that tasted of iced tea and mint. The leopard print lace scraped deliciously against my skin.
“You feel that?” she murmured against my lips, her hips never stopping their movement. “That’s all you. That echo. It’s like I know what you like before you do.”
She was right. Every shift, every touch, was perfectly aligned with my building pleasure. It was as if she was reading the ghost I’d left inside her. The climax, when it hit me, was a cataclysmic wave that tore a raw, guttural shout from my throat. She followed me over a moment later, clenching around me, her own cry muffled in the crook of my neck.
We lay together for a long time, tangled and sweating, the scent of sex and her perfume filling the air. She eventually slipped off me and curled against my side. “A proper goodbye,” she whispered, before her breathing evened out into sleep.
***
I woke up alone in my own bed. The gray light of dawn filtered in. The sheets smelled of my own laundry detergent. For a dizzying moment, I was sure it had all been another impossibly vivid dream.
Then I felt the pleasant ache in my muscles. I saw the faint, smudged trace of lipstick—a peachy nude, Morning Kiss—on my collar.
And I remembered her words. You left a piece of yourself here.
That evening, restless and haunted, I sat on my bedroom floor once more. Not trying to reach for Lydia. Just trying to quiet the echo. My consciousness drifted, untethered, through the familiar walls of my house.
I floated into the master bedroom. My step mom, Ellen, was there, sitting at her vanity in a robe, carefully applying night cream. I hovered, a silent, invisible observer. She hummed a tune from some old musical, her face relaxed and kind in the soft light.
The thought, sudden and unbidden, shimmered in my non-corporeal mind. A new door. A different set of strings to pull. The curiosity, now awakened and fed, was a hungry thing.
I floated closer, watching the steady rise and fall of her shoulders as she breathed.
The question hung in the ether, heavy with possibility.
Do I want to?
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When Philip and Jack are given the challenge of going on a panty raid through the sorority next door to secure their place as pledges at Delta Epsilon, Philip's heart sinks.
With the sorority girls having already taken well known countermeasures to deal with any would be panty thieves, he thinks the chances of completing the challenge are near zero.
However, when his best friend Jack claims to have a plan involving a little magic and burrowing the bodies of his crush Vanessa and her roommate Katy, he knows he is in for a long night ahead when things don't exactly end up going to plan...
Note: This is a commissioned work that has not been personally written by me. I have been granted permission to distribute and share the story by the original author.
The floor of Delta Epsilon’s house was sticky.
Beer, cheap cologne, and stale pizza had seeped into the carpet like a second skin, and Philip had the honor of scrubbing it clean while half a dozen brothers lounged on couches watching basketball highlights.
“Missed a spot,” one of them called, deliberately tilting a red Solo cup so that the last of his drink bled out onto the carpet inches from Philip’s sponge.
Philip clenched his jaw. He’d been degraded all semester, fetching fast food at three in the morning, running errands that skirted the edge of being criminal, serving as human furniture during drinking games. He told himself it would be worth it. Delta Epsilon’s parties were legendary, the kind of place girls lined up to get into. More importantly, alumni connections meant a shot at internships that led to real careers. You suffered now, you cashed in later.
Jack, naturally, thrived. He was perched on the arm of a sofa, balancing a tray of wings for two seniors, grinning like the humiliation was a party of its own.
“How’s that knee grease holding up, Phil?” he teased, eyebrows bouncing. Philip muttered something under his breath, pressing the sponge hard enough to leave his knuckles white. He’d thought pledging with his best friend would make things easier. Instead, Jack’s bottomless energy only made Philip feel like the boring one, always one step away from quitting.
The pledge master, Trent, finally called them over once the brothers had eaten their fill.
“You’ve made it further than many,” he said, addressing both Philip and Jack while tapping the ash off his cigar. “Scrubbing toilets, babysitting drunk brothers, taking whatever punishment we throw at you, you did it all without complaint. But Delta doesn’t hand out membership for free. There’s one last hurdle.”
Jack’s eyes lit up, while Philip felt his stomach knot. Trent leaned forward. “You’ve got until Saturday morning to bring us proof that you’re worthy of being Delta Epsilons. And by proof, I mean the underwear of one of the Theta sisters across the street.”
A ripple of laughter passed through the room. Someone whistled. Another shouted, “Better hope they’re lace!”
Philip’s face burned hot. He’d expected something brutal. A dangerous stunt, or maybe even a tattoo or branding, not…this. Not something that felt like the set-up to a police record for being a creep.
Jack, of course, grinned like he’d just been handed a golden ticket. “Piece of cake,” he said.
“Piece of felony,” Philip muttered.
Trent ignored the comment. “You get caught, that’s your problem. Theta girls are sick of pranks. They’ll eat you alive if they catch you sneaking around. Fail, and you’ll have to re-pledge next semester, if we even let you back in. Succeed, and you’ll be full brothers by sunrise.”
He flicked his cigar ash into an empty beer can, and the matter was closed. Philip and Jack were dismissed like servants, slipping out into the cool night air. The frat house behind them thumped with bass as the next round of drinking games began.
Across the street, the Theta house glowed with warm yellow light, its windows alive with the silhouettes of girls laughing, moving and living in a world that felt forbidden.
Philip shoved his hands into his hoodie pocket. “This is insane. They want us to break into a sorority house. Forget expulsion, that’s actual jail time if we’re caught and reported.”
Jack slung an arm around his shoulder, grinning as if he hadn’t heard a word. “Come on, man. It’s tradition. Everybody who ever wore Delta letters has done something crazy like this. We’ll figure it out. We always do.”
Philip shrugged him off. “You mean you’ll figure it out. And drag me with you.”
Jack’s grin widened. “Exactly. Don’t worry, I’ve got a plan.” That phrase, I’ve got a plan, was the single most dangerous thing Jack could say. Philip knew better, but as he stared up at the Theta house, he couldn’t shake the truth. They’d come too far to back out now.
Philip assumed Jack’s “plan” would be something stupid but doable. Like sneaking into the Theta laundry room, bribing a janitor, or maybe finessing a stolen bra from lost-and-found.
What he didn’t expect, as their deadline creeped ever closer, was Jack pulling a battered paperback out of his backpack like he’d just smuggled the Necronomicon out of the library and declaring their troubles were about to be a thing of the past.
“What is that?” Philip asked, eyeing the faded title embossed with moons and symbols.
“Wiccan Rites and Rituals of the Body,” Jack said with a grin so wide it could split his face. “This baby is going to get us in.”
Philip stared. “That’s not a plan you idiot. That’s…props from a bad horror movie.”
“Correction,” Jack said, flipping through pages until he landed on one marked with a sticky note. “It’s a possession spell. All we need is something personal from the Thetas. Hair is perfect. One strand, and we’re golden.”
Philip blinked. “Hair. You want us to pluck a strand off someone’s head, mix it into some potion, and what? Astral-project into their underwear drawer?”
Jack leaned forward, whispering even though there was nobody else around. “Exactly. But into them, not their underwear drawer.”
For a moment, Philip couldn’t even find words. His friend was dead serious. His blue eyes glittered with the manic light of a man who believed in his own insanity. Philip pinched the bridge of his nose. “Jack, you need help.”
“Correction again. We need help, and this is it. Think about it. We don’t sneak around, we don’t break and enter, we just become them. Walk right in the front door. Grab what we need and walk back out again. Easy as pie.”
Philip wanted to laugh. He wanted to tell Jack this was why pledges got expelled, why college urban legends started with two idiots reading a so-called spell book. But something about Jack’s certainty unsettled him.
“How do you even plan to get the hair?” Philip asked, deciding to humor him.
Jack smirked. “You’re partnered with Vanessa in chem lab. I’m with her roommate, Katy. Both of them happen to belong to the Theta Sorority. Boom. Easy.”
Philip’s stomach lurched. Vanessa, the Vanessa, the girl he’d spent the better part of a semester trying not to stare at. She was sharp, funny, gorgeous, and so out of his league it hurt. The idea of stealing a strand of her hair wasn’t just impossible, it was mortifying.
“Jack, if I even look at her hair the wrong way she’ll know. She’ll tell everyone. I’ll be branded as the campus creep for the rest of my life.”
Jack clapped him on the back. “Relax. I’ll take care of mine. You just…fumble your way through like usual. She likes you, right? I’m sure she’s called you sweet before. She won’t even notice.”
Lab that afternoon was a fluorescent blur of glassware and nerves. Bunsen burners hissed, and the sharp scent of acetone hung in the air. Vanessa tied her glossy black hair into a messy bun as she leaned over the counter, the soft hum she made under her breath cutting through the low chatter of other pairs.
Philip adjusted the clamp on their stand and tried to steady his hands, pretending to check the thermometer while sneaking a glance at her profile. The long lashes, the soft curve of her cheek when she smiled. He’d barely worked up the nerve to say something to her, when the door swung open and Ryan Hale strolled in.
Ryan wasn’t a student in their class, he was a teaching assistant who was busy with his Masters. The kind of nerd who looked more like he belonged in a movie poster than a chemistry lab. The Henry Cavill of the campus. Tall, effortlessly confident, his sleeves rolled to the elbow, showing forearms that probably did not belong to someone who spent his evenings doing titration reports.
“Need a hand, Vanessa?” he asked, his voice deep and smooth enough to make the words sound like an inside joke.
Vanessa’s whole face lit up. “Ryan! You’re still hanging around the underclassmen? I thought you were too cool for basic chem.”
“Guess I missed the fun crowd.” He winked, stepping close enough that Philip caught the faint smell of his cologne. Something woodsy and smug. Philip’s stomach twisted. He busied himself pretending to check their notes, but every word between Vanessa and Ryan pulled his focus like a hook through his ribs.
“Still showing off that perfect technique, huh?” Ryan teased, leaning an elbow on the counter. “Could use someone like you to calibrate my disastrous love life.”
Vanessa laughed, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I told you last time, you need better lab partners, not better lines.”
“Maybe I just need one who actually likes me,” he said, voice dipping into something low and knowing. “You still wearing that purple dress that makes everyone else forget the experiment?”
She grinned, shaking her head. “Keep talking, and you’ll set the sprinklers off again.”
Ryan chuckled, backing away with a little salute. “Worth it.”
Philip’s jaw locked so tight it hurt. He shifted his beaker just to make noise. “Vanessa, uh, the solution’s ready,” he muttered.
She turned back, still smiling, a faint pink on her cheeks. “Right, sorry, I got distracted.” The way she said it made Philip want to vanish into the nearest fume hood.
Ryan gave him a nod that felt more like dismissal. “Good work, man. Don’t let her boss you around too much.”
Philip forced a tight smile. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
When Ryan finally moved on to check another table, the tension in Philip’s shoulders eased only slightly. Vanessa was still smiling to herself, twirling her pencil between her fingers. “He’s such a dork,” she said fondly.
“Yeah,” Philip replied, voice flat. “A real geek.”
She glanced at him, oblivious. “You okay? You look kind of pale.”
“Fine,” he lied. His pulse thundered. He hated how obvious it felt. The jealousy, the ridiculous possessiveness over a girl who barely saw him as more than a partner for lab reports.
Meanwhile, across the room, Jack was all charm. Katy, tall, athletic, focused on the work at hand with cool intensity, rolled her eyes at his constant jokes, but she didn’t seem to actively hate him. Jack’s hands moved casually, as if the experiment was background noise to whatever ridiculous story he was spinning.
Philip’s heart pounded. He couldn’t do it. Not to Vanessa. The thought of deliberately stealing a piece of her felt worse than any frat punishment. But then her bun slipped, and a single strand drifted onto the lab bench.
Philip froze and stared at it like it was radioactive. One perfect strand, right there. All he had to do was pick it up without her noticing. His hand twitched. Sweat beaded at his hairline. Vanessa reached for the pipette, and he panicked. He grabbed the strand too quickly, shoving it into his pocket like a thief.
She glanced at him, puzzled. “You good?” she asked.
Philip’s laugh came out strangled. “Yeah. Totally. Fine. Just, science, you know?”
She gave him a strange look, then turned back to the experiment. Across the room, Jack caught his eye and subtly flashed a triumphant thumbs-up. He mouthed, Got it. Philip wanted to throw up.
After class, they met outside, ducking into a quiet corner near the library. Jack pulled a small plastic baggie from his pocket and wiggled it proudly. Katy’s strand of hair gleaming inside. Philip shoved his hands deep into his hoodie, where Vanessa’s strand burned against his palm like contraband.
“This is insane,” he muttered. “If she’d caught me, I’d have been ruined.”
Jack was practically buzzing. “But she didn’t. We’ve got everything. Today, we drink the potion. Tomorrow, we’re legends.”
Philip stared at him, feeling his chest tighten. It wasn’t the frat house that scared him anymore. It was Jack’s unwavering certainty, the gleam in his eye like he’d already crossed a line Philip couldn’t even see.
Back in their room, Jack had cleared his desk, pushing aside textbooks and laundry to make space for the battered paperback and a mess of supplies that looked like they’d been stolen from a Spirit Halloween clearance bin. Mason jars, candles, a bag of salt and something that Philip really, really hoped was red food coloring.
Philip sat on the bed, arms crossed, trying not to look at the plastic bag in his pocket. Inside was Vanessa’s hair, a single dark strand that felt heavier than lead.
“This is ridiculous,” he muttered. “You’re going to set off the fire alarm, and we’ll get kicked out before we even fail the pledge.”
Jack was hunched over the desk, tongue poking from the corner of his mouth as he measured powder into a chipped coffee mug.
“Correction. You’re going to stop being so negative, because we’re going to waltz into Theta’s house like we own it and take our time finding the perfect proof. Something small, sexy and lacy. Then we hand it to Trent and we’re done. Easiest initiation ever and we’re lifelong members of the Delta Epsilon brotherhood.”
Philip shook his head. “You actually believe all the crap coming out of your mouth, don’t you?”
“Yes. Because I know this is going to work.” Jack’s grin was feral. He held up his mug, fizzing with something dark and faintly purple. “And very soon, you’re going to have to swallow all your pessimistic, dismissive words and admit that I’m the GOAT.” Without waiting for a response, he dropped Katy’s wavy strand of hair into the concoction.
Philip looked at his own brew, waiting for him on the desk. It reeked faintly of vinegar and something metallic. “This looks like cough syrup that went bad.”
Jack grabbed the paperback, muttering words under his breath. Latin? Gibberish? Philip couldn’t tell. The candlelight threw shadows across Jack’s face, making him look more unhinged than usual.
“Jack,” Philip said slowly, “You get that if this doesn’t work, we may be drinking poison?”
“Trust me,” Jack said, gesturing meaningfully at Philip’s mug. Those two words had been the prelude to every disaster Philip had lived through with him. The broken window in high school. The near arrest in freshman year. And now this.
Philip sighed, pulled Vanessa’s hair from his pocket, and dropped it into the liquid. It curled and fizzed, dissolving into the mixture like it had never been.
“Bottoms up,” Jack said cheerfully, chugging the contents in one long pull.
Philip raised his mug. The liquid shimmered oddly, like heat ripples above asphalt. He pinched his nose and tossed it back. It burned. Like swallowing melted pennies chased with bleach. His stomach roiled instantly, bile rising up.
“Jesus Christ,” he choked, slamming the cup down. “That’s not magic, that’s battery acid.”
Jack wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, coughing hard, but his grin didn’t falter. “Wait for it.”
Philip blinked and the dorm room folded in on itself. Candlelight bent sideways and the next breath tasted like coffee and paper. He was not in their room anymore. He was sitting at a table under tall windows, late afternoon light spilling amber over open textbooks and half empty cups.
The scent was library quiet and caffeine. Hair slid across his cheek. Definitely not his. It was long and silky. His hands were smaller, nails pink, wrists delicate. The weight on his chest tugged when he breathed. He was looking through Vanessa’s eyes.
Across from him, Katy sat in a chair with a pen in her hand and her mouth parted in a quiet, startled sound that belonged to Jack. “Holy shit,” Jack whispered in Katy’s voice.
Philip’s pulse spiked. “How the hell did I get here?” he asked under his breath, before the realization hit him fully. Jack’s crazy plan worked. He glanced down, eyes bugging at the soft cleavage he encountered. He was on the verge of completely freaking out. “Keep it together,” he muttered to himself. The sound of Vanessa's voice only sent him spiraling further into chaos.
Jack’s grin curled slow and wicked as he looked down at himself and then around them. He started to pull the top of Katy’s tank forward so he could peek at her breasts, before Philip shot him a look that could choke a man at twenty paces.
“Don’t,” Philip hissed. “Katy would never do something like that in public!”
Jack laughed, high and breathy in Katy’s voice. “You’re telling me you’re not even curious? Come on, man. We’re in. This is unreal. Don’t you want to know what it feels like to them when we touch them?”
Philip swallowed hard, trying to calm himself. He gripped the edge of the table to keep himself from spiraling into sensory overload.
“This…this isn’t possible,” he whispered. But the evidence pressed in from every side. The scent of citrus shampoo in his hair, the tug of bra straps against his shoulders, the fullness in his chest when he inhaled. The emptiness where his cock should be.
Philip’s eyes darted anxiously around the library cafe. “We need to get out of here before someone notices something off,” Philip said. “People pick up on the smallest wrong note.” He was terrified that someone would realize the girls were possessed.
He spent way too much time staring at Vanessa, but that didn’t mean he could copy her actions. If anyone watched them closely, they’d know immediately that there were impostors inhabiting Vanessa and Katy.
“We should go back to their room and fool around,” Jack suggested immediately, hands on Katy’s breasts, squeezing idly.
“Jesus, Jack, stop that! They’re in public. We’re in public…”
This was such a mind-fuck. Clearly they were literally possessing Vanessa and Katy’s bodies. Where was Vanessa's consciousness now? Asleep? Aware? He didn’t feel like someone was watching him, so hopefully she had no idea what he was doing. And where were his and Jack’s bodies? Still in their dorm room? Fuck. If he’d known there was any chance of this working, he’d never have gone through with it.
“Come on bestie, let’s go home,” Jack cooed at him. “I’m just dying to get out of these pesky clothes.”
Jack clearly had zero second thoughts about any of this. Then again, Jack had never had a second thought in his life. He rarely had first ones. Philip decided that only made him a bigger idiot for always following his friend’s crazy plans.
Philip took a deep breath, gathered Vanessa’s things and slung her messenger bag over her shoulder before getting up on shaky legs. The plan was to reach Theta house without interacting with anyone who knew the girls.
Vanessa was outgoing and popular, so he kept his eyes trained on the ground to avoid any accidental socializing.
He was doing his best to focus on the mission, but every move betrayed him. Vanessa’s curves shifted differently from his own. Her hips swayed without permission when he walked. The tug of the denim skirt around her thighs was tighter than he was used to, the waistband sitting higher, the soft curtain of hair continuously falling into his eyes. And he kept fighting the urge to run his fingertips over her lustrous, satiny skin.
Philip thanked his lucky stars that it was late afternoon sliding toward evening and most of the Theta girls were either at dinner, in class, or busy with the mixer prep.
The second piece of good luck was the fact that the first year members of the sorority had the downstairs bedrooms and Katy and Vanessa had their names picked out in glittery wooden letters on their door. Which saved him and Jack from being caught wandering aimlessly into someone else’s room and rifling through their underwear.
“Come on,” he hissed at Jack, nearly having heart failure when he heard Vanessa’s sweet, bubbly voice, before remembering it came from his own mouth.
As soon as they entered the room, Philip froze like a deer in headlights.
The room smelled like them. A heady mix of perfume, make-up and detergent. Several photos of Vanessa and Katy were pinned to the notice board. Keys with a little Theta charm lay on a desk. Lip gloss on each bedside table. A folded flyer about the upcoming mixer. Every object made him feel like an intruder in a life that wasn’t his.
Then he looked up and saw his reflection thrown back at him from the floor length mirror fastened to the opposite wall. Vanessa stared back. Her round face framed by shiny black hair, lips glossed in pale pink, eyes wide with Philip’s panic.
“This isn’t possible,” he murmured hoarsely.
Jack crossed the room with Katy’s energetic stride, hair swinging over her shoulder. He leaned down, far too close, eyes alight with mischief.
“Possible or not, it’s happening. And we’ve got hours before it wears off. Wanna play?” Philip’s pulse thundered. He was in Vanessa’s body. Jack was in Katy’s. He had no idea what their real bodies were doing or where, only that they were not here. For the first time since pledging Delta, he realized he was more terrified of his best friend than of any frat brother.
Jack was practically bouncing around like a kid in a candy store, repeatedly mentioning how awesome it is to have tits.
“This is insane,” Philip muttered, running a hand through Vanessa’s long hair. The strands slipped through his fingers like silk, brushing the back of his neck, constantly in his peripheral vision. Every little tickle made him twitch. “I feel like I’m drowning in shampoo.”
Jack snorted. “Yeah. It’s fucking awesome. Look at this.” He shook his head, letting Katy’s long, dark hair fall over her shoulders, framing her face, then bit her lower lip between her teeth and winked at Philip seductively. “Tell me this doesn’t look hot.”
Philip turned away, but not before catching a glimpse of the curve of Katy’s collarbone, the tan line along her shoulder where a sports bra must’ve once sat. He gritted his teeth.
“We’re only here to grab underwear and then we get out. That’s it.” Jack made a distracted sound, which didn’t entirely sound like agreement.
He was testing everything. Squeezing Katy’s biceps and delighting in the subtle muscle definition, stretching out one long leg and flexing her calf muscles, even bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet as if testing how springy she was.
Philip was still focused on the reflection in the mirror. He stepped closer, and the image followed, familiar and foreign all at once. He raised a hand. She raised a hand. Jack appeared beside him, sliding Katy’s body into view. She was taller, leaner, her shoulders broader than Vanessa’s.
Katy was studious and fairly quiet normally, but Jack’s grin warped her into something hungry. A femme fatale in search of her next prey.
“Dude, look at us,” Jack whispered. “We actually pulled it off. We’re fucking hot!”
Philip swallowed, heat crawling up his neck. “We shouldn’t be looking. This is… it’s too much.”
“Too much fun,” Jack corrected. He pressed closer to the mirror, tilting Katy’s head, pursing her lips, sticking out her tongue just to see how it looked. He laughed in delight. “God, the way this mouth moves, it’s unreal.”
Philip tried to drag his eyes away, but curiosity betrayed him. His gaze dipped, catching sight of Vanessa’s chest in the reflection. The neckline of her shirt clung close, clearly showing the outline of her nipples. He bit the inside of his cheek and turned away sharply. He was not going to lift her top and take a peek.
“You’re staring,” Jack teased, slipping behind him and resting Katy’s hands on Vanessa’s hips.
Katy’s reflection loomed over Vanessa’s smaller frame in the mirror. “What’s it like, having the body of your crush? Bet you’ve fantasized about having unfettered access to her before. Touching every inch of her. Running your palms over her perky tits. Cupping her pussy.”
Philip’s face went hot. “Shut up.”
Jack leaned closer, his voice dropping, Katy’s lips brushing dangerously near Philip’s ear. “She’s soft, isn’t she? Curvy. Everything you imagined. And she’s right here. Aching to know what your hands would feel like sliding all over her.”
Philip’s breath caught. He could feel the warmth of Jack’s presence, the whisper of Katy’s hair brushing his cheek. He tried to step away, but Vanessa’s body didn’t obey with the same steadiness as his own.
His hip bumped the desk, throwing him off balance. Jack’s hand shot out, steadying him. Grabbing his hips instead of his arm. Philip stiffened. The pressure of Katy’s palm against Vanessa’s midriff was startling. A hot reminder that this wasn’t a joke anymore.
“Jack,” Philip said, voice low with warning. But Jack only grinned, tightening his grip slightly, fingertips sliding along the hem of Vanessa’s shirt, tickling the strip of skin underneath.
“Relax. We’ve got time before the potion wears off. Why waste it panicking when we could explore?”
Philip shoved his hand away, heart hammering too fast. “We came here for one reason. Don’t fuck this up with your usual bullshit.”
Jack backed off in mock surrender, leaning against the wall and raising Katy’s hands. “Fine, fine. You want to pass up a once in a lifetime opportunity by being a pussy, instead of playing with one, go ahead.”
Philip ignored him and pulled open one of the dresser drawers, coming face to face with the mother lode.
A mass of lace and cotton, bright colors and neutrals, G-strings and briefs and bras, all folded neatly in little piles. He fumbled, pulling out a pair at random, trying not to notice the little bow stitched along the waistband, or theorize about which of the girls it belonged to.
“Got it,” he muttered, stuffing it into his pocket.
“We should leave and go and stash this somewhere so we can retrieve it when we’re us again.”
“Plenty of time for that. Are you seriously passing up the opportunity to find out what turns your crush on?”
Philip’s chest heaved, the bra beneath his shirt pinching tighter with the movement. Every tiny sensation was amplified in this shape. He had no idea girls had such sensitive bodies. If Vanessa's neck and shoulders were this responsive to stimuli, what about the more… delicate areas?
Jack leaned against the wall, watching his friend closely. Katy’s arms crossed under her breasts, pushing them up in a way that made Philip avert his eyes.
“You really think you can ignore this?” Jack asked softly. “Ignore her?”
Philip didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Because the truth was, even as he tried to ignore it, every nerve in Vanessa’s body was alive with a tingling feeling he couldn’t shut off.
He told himself he wouldn’t look at the mirror again. That he had the underwear and all that was left to do was wait for the potion to burn off. But every time he moved, Vanessa’s body reminded him he wasn’t himself. The way her thighs brushed together when he shifted his stance. The heat trapped in the curve between her breasts. The way her nipples tightened when she saw the way Katy stared at her. The sudden, sharp contraction of pleasure between her legs.
Each detail was louder than thought. And Jack wouldn’t fucking give him space to breathe.
“You’re wound too tight,” Jack murmured, stepping closer again. Katy’s taller body loomed behind him, all lean lines and toned strength. He set Katy’s hands on Vanessa's shoulders from behind, massaging with deliberate slowness.
“Loosen up.”
Philip froze. The sensation was alien. Slender fingers pressing into the slope of Vanessa’s shoulders, kneading muscle softer than his own. His back arched without meaning to, chest pushing forward. He could feel the heat in his panties and almost smell the pheromones in the air.
“Jack-”
“Shh.”
Katy’s breath ghosted over his ear, warm and taunting. “Allow her to feel it. Her body isn’t fighting me. She likes this.”
Philip hated the way heat rippled through him at the words. The way Vanessa’s nipples pebbled instantly, turning aching and hard beneath her bra when Jack’s thumbs kept sensually running across her muscles.
He tried to step away, but Jack’s grip on her waist drew her back. Katy’s chest pressed flush against Vanessa’s back. Firm breasts molding against soft skin. Philip gasped, a small, betraying sound.
“That’s it,” Jack whispered, lips brushing the shell of Vanessa's ear. “You feel that, don’t you? How different it is?”
Philip bit his lip hard. But it didn’t stop his body from reacting. His chest ached with sensitivity, every brush of fabric against his nipples sparking hot shivers. His hips shifted against Jack’s hold, searching without meaning to. His ass pressing back, almost expecting to feel an erect cock there, relaxing when all he encountered was softness.
Jack slid one hand lower, over Vanessa’s flat stomach, fingertips grazing the waist of her denim skirt. Philip’s pulse spiked. He could feel the shape of her body in ways he’d only imagined.
“God, you’re actually shaking,” Jack teased. He pressed his palm harder, dragging upward until he cupped one of Vanessa’s breasts through her shirt. His hand molded perfectly to the curve, fingers sinking in slightly before closing over the nipples and pinching.
Philip jolted like he’d been shocked. The pressure sent heat exploding through him. So much sharper than he ever imagined. A moan slipped out, broken and needy, before he could stop it. Jack laughed low, his voice a husky echo in Katy’s mouth.
“I knew it. You’re loving this.”
Philip shook his head, but his body betrayed him. Vanessa’s breasts were soft in his own hands when Jack pulled them into place, squeezing and kneading.
The ache in his chest spread downward, a molten restlessness that coiled between his legs, where there was no longer any familiar weight. Only a slick, sensitive heat that made his thighs tense. Jack leaned closer, kissing the side of Vanessa's neck.
Katy’s lips left tingling sparks against her skin. He gasped again, tilting his head back without meaning to, giving Jack room to explore.
“You always wanted to know what she felt like, didn’t you?” Jack murmured between kisses. “Now you do. Every inch. Every little twitch. If you ever get the chance, you could make her cum in minutes.”
Philip squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t want to want this. But Vanessa’s body was singing beneath his skin, her curves hypersensitive to every touch, every squeeze. When Jack dragged his hand lower, cupping the swell of her ass through denim, Philip’s knees went weak. He stumbled, and they tumbled together onto the nearest bed. Vanessa’s smaller frame pinned beneath Katy’s.
Jack landed on top, grinning down, hair falling in a dark curtain around their faces. “Just lie back and enjoy it,” he said, voice husky. “I’ll do all the work and you can take notes in your head.”
Katy’s hips pressed down, grinding just enough for Philip to feel the press of her pussy against Vanessa's. The pleasure nearly made him see stars. What would it feel like if Katy actually touched her clit? Dragged her tongue over it? Sucked it between those soft lips?
Philip whimpered, his hands trapped between them, pressed against the curves of Katy’s sides. He could feel the warmth of skin through fabric. Every nerve screamed with arousal. Jack leaned down, lips hovering over his.
“Tell me you don’t want this.”
Philip’s heart thundered. His lips parted, and he didn’t know if he was going to say I don’t or kiss Katy. His pulse roared in his ears. He could feel the weight of Vanessa’s chest rising and falling too fast, her heartbeat thundering in her ribs like a trapped animal.
Jack hovered over him, Katy’s taller frame caging him against the mattress, their borrowed hair spilling together in a curtain that smelled faintly of fruit.
“This isn’t funny anymore,” Philip rasped, but his voice cracked, betraying the tremor of arousal under the words.
Jack smirked. “I’m not joking.” He lowered Katy’s body until their breasts touched, brushing Katy’s peaked nipples against Vanessa’s rock hard ones. The friction alone made Philip gasp, heat shooting through him. It wasn’t like pressing chest-to-chest with another guy.
The give, the shape, the electric sting of nipples touching, every detail was overwhelming. He had no idea breasts were so receptive to the slightest touch. Vanessa's wasn’t even uncovered and they made him squirm.
“God,” he groaned before he could stop himself. Jack’s grin widened in satisfaction.
“Feels good, doesn’t it? Every touch goes both ways. You squeeze her,” He pressed Katy’s hand down onto one of Vanessa’s breasts, forcing Philip to feel it fully, “And you are her.”
Philip arched into the contact despite himself. His hands moved up without any conscious thought. The weight of her breast in his palm, the nipple reacting instantly under his touch, each tiny spark flooded through him in a way his male body never reacted to anything but pressure on his cock.
He kneaded once, twice, and heat surged low in his stomach, between his thighs, turning his panties damp. His back bowed off the mattress, mouth falling open in a helpless sound.
Jack kissed him then. Katy’s mouth grazing Vanessa's jaw, the corner of her mouth, teasing as it moved around.
Every brush of her sweet lips left a wet, burning mark. Philip turned away, breathless, but Jack followed, biting gently at Vanessa’s neck until Philip gasped.
His thighs clenched hard. Something slick and molten was spreading there, pulsing with every beat of his heart. He could feel the absence, the soft, tender heat where his cock would usually be straining.
The pressure of denim against it only sharpened the ache. He needed Jack to touch Vanessa's pussy. He needed pressure. Jack ground down lightly and Philip bucked up helplessly, his own hands gripping Katy’s hips tight, chasing the friction he’d die without.
“Stop,” he panted, but the word broke halfway, turning into a moan. Jack chuckled low.
“Your body doesn’t want me to stop.” He kissed Vanessa again. Her lips plump, glossy, trembling beneath Katy’s teasing press. Philip’s breath hitched and his tongue flicked nervously against the edge of his teeth.
Every nerve screamed to close the distance, to taste what it felt like to kiss as a girl, to be kissed as a girl. Jack deepened the grind of their hips. Philip’s breath hitched sharply, a helpless whimper leaving his throat.
Heat surged through his belly, down his thighs, the ache between his legs swelling into a throbbing need. He arched against Katy, nails digging into her waist. There’s no way he was going to be able to say no. Jack had to make him cum.
Jack pulled back slightly, asking with twinkling eyes, “Shall we see how good Katy is at eating pussy?”
Philip knew what his answer should be, but his entire body was throbbing, yes yes yes.
Their mouths hovered a fraction apart, breaths mingling. The world narrowed to that single point of contact waiting to happen. Philip’s lips parted, ready, needy.
“Vanessa? Katy?” The voice cut through the fog like a blade, followed by the rap of knuckles on the door.
Philip’s eyes flew wide. Jack froze above him, both of them panting hard. “Vanessa, Katy!” another girl called from the hall. “We need you for the final discussions for tonight’s mixer!”
Silence. Only their ragged breaths, the hot press of bodies still locked together. Jack swore under his breath, rolling off Vanessa reluctantly.
“Just when things were about to get really good.”
Philip scrambled upright, Vanessa’s hair tangling in his face, chest heaving, nipples still hard and aching. He shoved shaky hands through the strands, trying to compose himself, though the slick heat between his thighs throbbed in open defiance.
He knew they should have kept their heads. If they let curiosity drag them off course they would blow the whole point of the night. The spell would end when it wanted and they had no idea when that would be.
Another knock. “Come on, you two! Hurry up! Megan saw you get in earlier, I know you’re in there.”
Jack smirked, tugging Katy’s tank top straight as if they hadn’t just been seconds from fucking each other into oblivion.
“Guess there’s more fun ahead. Don’t think you’re off the hook though, I’m still going to eat that pussy later and I fully expect to get repaid in kind.”
Philip sat frozen, heart still hammering, his mind spinning so fast he worried he might throw up.
With the sorority girls having already taken well known countermeasures to deal with any would be panty thieves, he thinks the chances of completing the challenge are near zero.
However, when his best friend Jack claims to have a plan involving a little magic and burrowing the bodies of his crush Vanessa and her roommate Katy, he knows he is in for a long night ahead when things don't exactly end up going to plan...
Note: This is a commissioned work that has not been personally written by me. I have been granted permission to distribute and share the story by the original author.
The floor of Delta Epsilon’s house was sticky.
Beer, cheap cologne, and stale pizza had seeped into the carpet like a second skin, and Philip had the honor of scrubbing it clean while half a dozen brothers lounged on couches watching basketball highlights.
“Missed a spot,” one of them called, deliberately tilting a red Solo cup so that the last of his drink bled out onto the carpet inches from Philip’s sponge.
Philip clenched his jaw. He’d been degraded all semester, fetching fast food at three in the morning, running errands that skirted the edge of being criminal, serving as human furniture during drinking games. He told himself it would be worth it. Delta Epsilon’s parties were legendary, the kind of place girls lined up to get into. More importantly, alumni connections meant a shot at internships that led to real careers. You suffered now, you cashed in later.
Jack, naturally, thrived. He was perched on the arm of a sofa, balancing a tray of wings for two seniors, grinning like the humiliation was a party of its own.
“How’s that knee grease holding up, Phil?” he teased, eyebrows bouncing. Philip muttered something under his breath, pressing the sponge hard enough to leave his knuckles white. He’d thought pledging with his best friend would make things easier. Instead, Jack’s bottomless energy only made Philip feel like the boring one, always one step away from quitting.
The pledge master, Trent, finally called them over once the brothers had eaten their fill.
“You’ve made it further than many,” he said, addressing both Philip and Jack while tapping the ash off his cigar. “Scrubbing toilets, babysitting drunk brothers, taking whatever punishment we throw at you, you did it all without complaint. But Delta doesn’t hand out membership for free. There’s one last hurdle.”
Jack’s eyes lit up, while Philip felt his stomach knot. Trent leaned forward. “You’ve got until Saturday morning to bring us proof that you’re worthy of being Delta Epsilons. And by proof, I mean the underwear of one of the Theta sisters across the street.”
A ripple of laughter passed through the room. Someone whistled. Another shouted, “Better hope they’re lace!”
Philip’s face burned hot. He’d expected something brutal. A dangerous stunt, or maybe even a tattoo or branding, not…this. Not something that felt like the set-up to a police record for being a creep.
Jack, of course, grinned like he’d just been handed a golden ticket. “Piece of cake,” he said.
“Piece of felony,” Philip muttered.
Trent ignored the comment. “You get caught, that’s your problem. Theta girls are sick of pranks. They’ll eat you alive if they catch you sneaking around. Fail, and you’ll have to re-pledge next semester, if we even let you back in. Succeed, and you’ll be full brothers by sunrise.”
He flicked his cigar ash into an empty beer can, and the matter was closed. Philip and Jack were dismissed like servants, slipping out into the cool night air. The frat house behind them thumped with bass as the next round of drinking games began.
Across the street, the Theta house glowed with warm yellow light, its windows alive with the silhouettes of girls laughing, moving and living in a world that felt forbidden.
Philip shoved his hands into his hoodie pocket. “This is insane. They want us to break into a sorority house. Forget expulsion, that’s actual jail time if we’re caught and reported.”
Jack slung an arm around his shoulder, grinning as if he hadn’t heard a word. “Come on, man. It’s tradition. Everybody who ever wore Delta letters has done something crazy like this. We’ll figure it out. We always do.”
Philip shrugged him off. “You mean you’ll figure it out. And drag me with you.”
Jack’s grin widened. “Exactly. Don’t worry, I’ve got a plan.” That phrase, I’ve got a plan, was the single most dangerous thing Jack could say. Philip knew better, but as he stared up at the Theta house, he couldn’t shake the truth. They’d come too far to back out now.
Philip assumed Jack’s “plan” would be something stupid but doable. Like sneaking into the Theta laundry room, bribing a janitor, or maybe finessing a stolen bra from lost-and-found.
What he didn’t expect, as their deadline creeped ever closer, was Jack pulling a battered paperback out of his backpack like he’d just smuggled the Necronomicon out of the library and declaring their troubles were about to be a thing of the past.
“What is that?” Philip asked, eyeing the faded title embossed with moons and symbols.
“Wiccan Rites and Rituals of the Body,” Jack said with a grin so wide it could split his face. “This baby is going to get us in.”
Philip stared. “That’s not a plan you idiot. That’s…props from a bad horror movie.”
“Correction,” Jack said, flipping through pages until he landed on one marked with a sticky note. “It’s a possession spell. All we need is something personal from the Thetas. Hair is perfect. One strand, and we’re golden.”
Philip blinked. “Hair. You want us to pluck a strand off someone’s head, mix it into some potion, and what? Astral-project into their underwear drawer?”
Jack leaned forward, whispering even though there was nobody else around. “Exactly. But into them, not their underwear drawer.”
For a moment, Philip couldn’t even find words. His friend was dead serious. His blue eyes glittered with the manic light of a man who believed in his own insanity. Philip pinched the bridge of his nose. “Jack, you need help.”
“Correction again. We need help, and this is it. Think about it. We don’t sneak around, we don’t break and enter, we just become them. Walk right in the front door. Grab what we need and walk back out again. Easy as pie.”
Philip wanted to laugh. He wanted to tell Jack this was why pledges got expelled, why college urban legends started with two idiots reading a so-called spell book. But something about Jack’s certainty unsettled him.
“How do you even plan to get the hair?” Philip asked, deciding to humor him.
Jack smirked. “You’re partnered with Vanessa in chem lab. I’m with her roommate, Katy. Both of them happen to belong to the Theta Sorority. Boom. Easy.”
Philip’s stomach lurched. Vanessa, the Vanessa, the girl he’d spent the better part of a semester trying not to stare at. She was sharp, funny, gorgeous, and so out of his league it hurt. The idea of stealing a strand of her hair wasn’t just impossible, it was mortifying.
“Jack, if I even look at her hair the wrong way she’ll know. She’ll tell everyone. I’ll be branded as the campus creep for the rest of my life.”
Jack clapped him on the back. “Relax. I’ll take care of mine. You just…fumble your way through like usual. She likes you, right? I’m sure she’s called you sweet before. She won’t even notice.”
Lab that afternoon was a fluorescent blur of glassware and nerves. Bunsen burners hissed, and the sharp scent of acetone hung in the air. Vanessa tied her glossy black hair into a messy bun as she leaned over the counter, the soft hum she made under her breath cutting through the low chatter of other pairs.
Philip adjusted the clamp on their stand and tried to steady his hands, pretending to check the thermometer while sneaking a glance at her profile. The long lashes, the soft curve of her cheek when she smiled. He’d barely worked up the nerve to say something to her, when the door swung open and Ryan Hale strolled in.
Ryan wasn’t a student in their class, he was a teaching assistant who was busy with his Masters. The kind of nerd who looked more like he belonged in a movie poster than a chemistry lab. The Henry Cavill of the campus. Tall, effortlessly confident, his sleeves rolled to the elbow, showing forearms that probably did not belong to someone who spent his evenings doing titration reports.
“Need a hand, Vanessa?” he asked, his voice deep and smooth enough to make the words sound like an inside joke.
Vanessa’s whole face lit up. “Ryan! You’re still hanging around the underclassmen? I thought you were too cool for basic chem.”
“Guess I missed the fun crowd.” He winked, stepping close enough that Philip caught the faint smell of his cologne. Something woodsy and smug. Philip’s stomach twisted. He busied himself pretending to check their notes, but every word between Vanessa and Ryan pulled his focus like a hook through his ribs.
“Still showing off that perfect technique, huh?” Ryan teased, leaning an elbow on the counter. “Could use someone like you to calibrate my disastrous love life.”
Vanessa laughed, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I told you last time, you need better lab partners, not better lines.”
“Maybe I just need one who actually likes me,” he said, voice dipping into something low and knowing. “You still wearing that purple dress that makes everyone else forget the experiment?”
She grinned, shaking her head. “Keep talking, and you’ll set the sprinklers off again.”
Ryan chuckled, backing away with a little salute. “Worth it.”
Philip’s jaw locked so tight it hurt. He shifted his beaker just to make noise. “Vanessa, uh, the solution’s ready,” he muttered.
She turned back, still smiling, a faint pink on her cheeks. “Right, sorry, I got distracted.” The way she said it made Philip want to vanish into the nearest fume hood.
Ryan gave him a nod that felt more like dismissal. “Good work, man. Don’t let her boss you around too much.”
Philip forced a tight smile. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
When Ryan finally moved on to check another table, the tension in Philip’s shoulders eased only slightly. Vanessa was still smiling to herself, twirling her pencil between her fingers. “He’s such a dork,” she said fondly.
“Yeah,” Philip replied, voice flat. “A real geek.”
She glanced at him, oblivious. “You okay? You look kind of pale.”
“Fine,” he lied. His pulse thundered. He hated how obvious it felt. The jealousy, the ridiculous possessiveness over a girl who barely saw him as more than a partner for lab reports.
Meanwhile, across the room, Jack was all charm. Katy, tall, athletic, focused on the work at hand with cool intensity, rolled her eyes at his constant jokes, but she didn’t seem to actively hate him. Jack’s hands moved casually, as if the experiment was background noise to whatever ridiculous story he was spinning.
Philip’s heart pounded. He couldn’t do it. Not to Vanessa. The thought of deliberately stealing a piece of her felt worse than any frat punishment. But then her bun slipped, and a single strand drifted onto the lab bench.
Philip froze and stared at it like it was radioactive. One perfect strand, right there. All he had to do was pick it up without her noticing. His hand twitched. Sweat beaded at his hairline. Vanessa reached for the pipette, and he panicked. He grabbed the strand too quickly, shoving it into his pocket like a thief.
She glanced at him, puzzled. “You good?” she asked.
Philip’s laugh came out strangled. “Yeah. Totally. Fine. Just, science, you know?”
She gave him a strange look, then turned back to the experiment. Across the room, Jack caught his eye and subtly flashed a triumphant thumbs-up. He mouthed, Got it. Philip wanted to throw up.
After class, they met outside, ducking into a quiet corner near the library. Jack pulled a small plastic baggie from his pocket and wiggled it proudly. Katy’s strand of hair gleaming inside. Philip shoved his hands deep into his hoodie, where Vanessa’s strand burned against his palm like contraband.
“This is insane,” he muttered. “If she’d caught me, I’d have been ruined.”
Jack was practically buzzing. “But she didn’t. We’ve got everything. Today, we drink the potion. Tomorrow, we’re legends.”
Philip stared at him, feeling his chest tighten. It wasn’t the frat house that scared him anymore. It was Jack’s unwavering certainty, the gleam in his eye like he’d already crossed a line Philip couldn’t even see.
Back in their room, Jack had cleared his desk, pushing aside textbooks and laundry to make space for the battered paperback and a mess of supplies that looked like they’d been stolen from a Spirit Halloween clearance bin. Mason jars, candles, a bag of salt and something that Philip really, really hoped was red food coloring.
Philip sat on the bed, arms crossed, trying not to look at the plastic bag in his pocket. Inside was Vanessa’s hair, a single dark strand that felt heavier than lead.
“This is ridiculous,” he muttered. “You’re going to set off the fire alarm, and we’ll get kicked out before we even fail the pledge.”
Jack was hunched over the desk, tongue poking from the corner of his mouth as he measured powder into a chipped coffee mug.
“Correction. You’re going to stop being so negative, because we’re going to waltz into Theta’s house like we own it and take our time finding the perfect proof. Something small, sexy and lacy. Then we hand it to Trent and we’re done. Easiest initiation ever and we’re lifelong members of the Delta Epsilon brotherhood.”
Philip shook his head. “You actually believe all the crap coming out of your mouth, don’t you?”
“Yes. Because I know this is going to work.” Jack’s grin was feral. He held up his mug, fizzing with something dark and faintly purple. “And very soon, you’re going to have to swallow all your pessimistic, dismissive words and admit that I’m the GOAT.” Without waiting for a response, he dropped Katy’s wavy strand of hair into the concoction.
Philip looked at his own brew, waiting for him on the desk. It reeked faintly of vinegar and something metallic. “This looks like cough syrup that went bad.”
Jack grabbed the paperback, muttering words under his breath. Latin? Gibberish? Philip couldn’t tell. The candlelight threw shadows across Jack’s face, making him look more unhinged than usual.
“Jack,” Philip said slowly, “You get that if this doesn’t work, we may be drinking poison?”
“Trust me,” Jack said, gesturing meaningfully at Philip’s mug. Those two words had been the prelude to every disaster Philip had lived through with him. The broken window in high school. The near arrest in freshman year. And now this.
Philip sighed, pulled Vanessa’s hair from his pocket, and dropped it into the liquid. It curled and fizzed, dissolving into the mixture like it had never been.
“Bottoms up,” Jack said cheerfully, chugging the contents in one long pull.
Philip raised his mug. The liquid shimmered oddly, like heat ripples above asphalt. He pinched his nose and tossed it back. It burned. Like swallowing melted pennies chased with bleach. His stomach roiled instantly, bile rising up.
“Jesus Christ,” he choked, slamming the cup down. “That’s not magic, that’s battery acid.”
Jack wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, coughing hard, but his grin didn’t falter. “Wait for it.”
Philip blinked and the dorm room folded in on itself. Candlelight bent sideways and the next breath tasted like coffee and paper. He was not in their room anymore. He was sitting at a table under tall windows, late afternoon light spilling amber over open textbooks and half empty cups.
The scent was library quiet and caffeine. Hair slid across his cheek. Definitely not his. It was long and silky. His hands were smaller, nails pink, wrists delicate. The weight on his chest tugged when he breathed. He was looking through Vanessa’s eyes.
Across from him, Katy sat in a chair with a pen in her hand and her mouth parted in a quiet, startled sound that belonged to Jack. “Holy shit,” Jack whispered in Katy’s voice.
Philip’s pulse spiked. “How the hell did I get here?” he asked under his breath, before the realization hit him fully. Jack’s crazy plan worked. He glanced down, eyes bugging at the soft cleavage he encountered. He was on the verge of completely freaking out. “Keep it together,” he muttered to himself. The sound of Vanessa's voice only sent him spiraling further into chaos.
Jack’s grin curled slow and wicked as he looked down at himself and then around them. He started to pull the top of Katy’s tank forward so he could peek at her breasts, before Philip shot him a look that could choke a man at twenty paces.
“Don’t,” Philip hissed. “Katy would never do something like that in public!”
Jack laughed, high and breathy in Katy’s voice. “You’re telling me you’re not even curious? Come on, man. We’re in. This is unreal. Don’t you want to know what it feels like to them when we touch them?”
Philip swallowed hard, trying to calm himself. He gripped the edge of the table to keep himself from spiraling into sensory overload.
“This…this isn’t possible,” he whispered. But the evidence pressed in from every side. The scent of citrus shampoo in his hair, the tug of bra straps against his shoulders, the fullness in his chest when he inhaled. The emptiness where his cock should be.
Philip’s eyes darted anxiously around the library cafe. “We need to get out of here before someone notices something off,” Philip said. “People pick up on the smallest wrong note.” He was terrified that someone would realize the girls were possessed.
He spent way too much time staring at Vanessa, but that didn’t mean he could copy her actions. If anyone watched them closely, they’d know immediately that there were impostors inhabiting Vanessa and Katy.
“We should go back to their room and fool around,” Jack suggested immediately, hands on Katy’s breasts, squeezing idly.
“Jesus, Jack, stop that! They’re in public. We’re in public…”
This was such a mind-fuck. Clearly they were literally possessing Vanessa and Katy’s bodies. Where was Vanessa's consciousness now? Asleep? Aware? He didn’t feel like someone was watching him, so hopefully she had no idea what he was doing. And where were his and Jack’s bodies? Still in their dorm room? Fuck. If he’d known there was any chance of this working, he’d never have gone through with it.
“Come on bestie, let’s go home,” Jack cooed at him. “I’m just dying to get out of these pesky clothes.”
Jack clearly had zero second thoughts about any of this. Then again, Jack had never had a second thought in his life. He rarely had first ones. Philip decided that only made him a bigger idiot for always following his friend’s crazy plans.
Philip took a deep breath, gathered Vanessa’s things and slung her messenger bag over her shoulder before getting up on shaky legs. The plan was to reach Theta house without interacting with anyone who knew the girls.
Vanessa was outgoing and popular, so he kept his eyes trained on the ground to avoid any accidental socializing.
He was doing his best to focus on the mission, but every move betrayed him. Vanessa’s curves shifted differently from his own. Her hips swayed without permission when he walked. The tug of the denim skirt around her thighs was tighter than he was used to, the waistband sitting higher, the soft curtain of hair continuously falling into his eyes. And he kept fighting the urge to run his fingertips over her lustrous, satiny skin.
Philip thanked his lucky stars that it was late afternoon sliding toward evening and most of the Theta girls were either at dinner, in class, or busy with the mixer prep.
The second piece of good luck was the fact that the first year members of the sorority had the downstairs bedrooms and Katy and Vanessa had their names picked out in glittery wooden letters on their door. Which saved him and Jack from being caught wandering aimlessly into someone else’s room and rifling through their underwear.
“Come on,” he hissed at Jack, nearly having heart failure when he heard Vanessa’s sweet, bubbly voice, before remembering it came from his own mouth.
As soon as they entered the room, Philip froze like a deer in headlights.
The room smelled like them. A heady mix of perfume, make-up and detergent. Several photos of Vanessa and Katy were pinned to the notice board. Keys with a little Theta charm lay on a desk. Lip gloss on each bedside table. A folded flyer about the upcoming mixer. Every object made him feel like an intruder in a life that wasn’t his.
Then he looked up and saw his reflection thrown back at him from the floor length mirror fastened to the opposite wall. Vanessa stared back. Her round face framed by shiny black hair, lips glossed in pale pink, eyes wide with Philip’s panic.
“This isn’t possible,” he murmured hoarsely.
Jack crossed the room with Katy’s energetic stride, hair swinging over her shoulder. He leaned down, far too close, eyes alight with mischief.
“Possible or not, it’s happening. And we’ve got hours before it wears off. Wanna play?” Philip’s pulse thundered. He was in Vanessa’s body. Jack was in Katy’s. He had no idea what their real bodies were doing or where, only that they were not here. For the first time since pledging Delta, he realized he was more terrified of his best friend than of any frat brother.
Jack was practically bouncing around like a kid in a candy store, repeatedly mentioning how awesome it is to have tits.
“This is insane,” Philip muttered, running a hand through Vanessa’s long hair. The strands slipped through his fingers like silk, brushing the back of his neck, constantly in his peripheral vision. Every little tickle made him twitch. “I feel like I’m drowning in shampoo.”
Jack snorted. “Yeah. It’s fucking awesome. Look at this.” He shook his head, letting Katy’s long, dark hair fall over her shoulders, framing her face, then bit her lower lip between her teeth and winked at Philip seductively. “Tell me this doesn’t look hot.”
Philip turned away, but not before catching a glimpse of the curve of Katy’s collarbone, the tan line along her shoulder where a sports bra must’ve once sat. He gritted his teeth.
“We’re only here to grab underwear and then we get out. That’s it.” Jack made a distracted sound, which didn’t entirely sound like agreement.
He was testing everything. Squeezing Katy’s biceps and delighting in the subtle muscle definition, stretching out one long leg and flexing her calf muscles, even bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet as if testing how springy she was.
Philip was still focused on the reflection in the mirror. He stepped closer, and the image followed, familiar and foreign all at once. He raised a hand. She raised a hand. Jack appeared beside him, sliding Katy’s body into view. She was taller, leaner, her shoulders broader than Vanessa’s.
Katy was studious and fairly quiet normally, but Jack’s grin warped her into something hungry. A femme fatale in search of her next prey.
“Dude, look at us,” Jack whispered. “We actually pulled it off. We’re fucking hot!”
Philip swallowed, heat crawling up his neck. “We shouldn’t be looking. This is… it’s too much.”
“Too much fun,” Jack corrected. He pressed closer to the mirror, tilting Katy’s head, pursing her lips, sticking out her tongue just to see how it looked. He laughed in delight. “God, the way this mouth moves, it’s unreal.”
Philip tried to drag his eyes away, but curiosity betrayed him. His gaze dipped, catching sight of Vanessa’s chest in the reflection. The neckline of her shirt clung close, clearly showing the outline of her nipples. He bit the inside of his cheek and turned away sharply. He was not going to lift her top and take a peek.
“You’re staring,” Jack teased, slipping behind him and resting Katy’s hands on Vanessa’s hips.
Katy’s reflection loomed over Vanessa’s smaller frame in the mirror. “What’s it like, having the body of your crush? Bet you’ve fantasized about having unfettered access to her before. Touching every inch of her. Running your palms over her perky tits. Cupping her pussy.”
Philip’s face went hot. “Shut up.”
Jack leaned closer, his voice dropping, Katy’s lips brushing dangerously near Philip’s ear. “She’s soft, isn’t she? Curvy. Everything you imagined. And she’s right here. Aching to know what your hands would feel like sliding all over her.”
Philip’s breath caught. He could feel the warmth of Jack’s presence, the whisper of Katy’s hair brushing his cheek. He tried to step away, but Vanessa’s body didn’t obey with the same steadiness as his own.
His hip bumped the desk, throwing him off balance. Jack’s hand shot out, steadying him. Grabbing his hips instead of his arm. Philip stiffened. The pressure of Katy’s palm against Vanessa’s midriff was startling. A hot reminder that this wasn’t a joke anymore.
“Jack,” Philip said, voice low with warning. But Jack only grinned, tightening his grip slightly, fingertips sliding along the hem of Vanessa’s shirt, tickling the strip of skin underneath.
“Relax. We’ve got time before the potion wears off. Why waste it panicking when we could explore?”
Philip shoved his hand away, heart hammering too fast. “We came here for one reason. Don’t fuck this up with your usual bullshit.”
Jack backed off in mock surrender, leaning against the wall and raising Katy’s hands. “Fine, fine. You want to pass up a once in a lifetime opportunity by being a pussy, instead of playing with one, go ahead.”
Philip ignored him and pulled open one of the dresser drawers, coming face to face with the mother lode.
A mass of lace and cotton, bright colors and neutrals, G-strings and briefs and bras, all folded neatly in little piles. He fumbled, pulling out a pair at random, trying not to notice the little bow stitched along the waistband, or theorize about which of the girls it belonged to.
“Got it,” he muttered, stuffing it into his pocket.
“We should leave and go and stash this somewhere so we can retrieve it when we’re us again.”
“Plenty of time for that. Are you seriously passing up the opportunity to find out what turns your crush on?”
Philip’s chest heaved, the bra beneath his shirt pinching tighter with the movement. Every tiny sensation was amplified in this shape. He had no idea girls had such sensitive bodies. If Vanessa's neck and shoulders were this responsive to stimuli, what about the more… delicate areas?
Jack leaned against the wall, watching his friend closely. Katy’s arms crossed under her breasts, pushing them up in a way that made Philip avert his eyes.
“You really think you can ignore this?” Jack asked softly. “Ignore her?”
Philip didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Because the truth was, even as he tried to ignore it, every nerve in Vanessa’s body was alive with a tingling feeling he couldn’t shut off.
He told himself he wouldn’t look at the mirror again. That he had the underwear and all that was left to do was wait for the potion to burn off. But every time he moved, Vanessa’s body reminded him he wasn’t himself. The way her thighs brushed together when he shifted his stance. The heat trapped in the curve between her breasts. The way her nipples tightened when she saw the way Katy stared at her. The sudden, sharp contraction of pleasure between her legs.
Each detail was louder than thought. And Jack wouldn’t fucking give him space to breathe.
“You’re wound too tight,” Jack murmured, stepping closer again. Katy’s taller body loomed behind him, all lean lines and toned strength. He set Katy’s hands on Vanessa's shoulders from behind, massaging with deliberate slowness.
“Loosen up.”
Philip froze. The sensation was alien. Slender fingers pressing into the slope of Vanessa’s shoulders, kneading muscle softer than his own. His back arched without meaning to, chest pushing forward. He could feel the heat in his panties and almost smell the pheromones in the air.
“Jack-”
“Shh.”
Katy’s breath ghosted over his ear, warm and taunting. “Allow her to feel it. Her body isn’t fighting me. She likes this.”
Philip hated the way heat rippled through him at the words. The way Vanessa’s nipples pebbled instantly, turning aching and hard beneath her bra when Jack’s thumbs kept sensually running across her muscles.
He tried to step away, but Jack’s grip on her waist drew her back. Katy’s chest pressed flush against Vanessa’s back. Firm breasts molding against soft skin. Philip gasped, a small, betraying sound.
“That’s it,” Jack whispered, lips brushing the shell of Vanessa's ear. “You feel that, don’t you? How different it is?”
Philip bit his lip hard. But it didn’t stop his body from reacting. His chest ached with sensitivity, every brush of fabric against his nipples sparking hot shivers. His hips shifted against Jack’s hold, searching without meaning to. His ass pressing back, almost expecting to feel an erect cock there, relaxing when all he encountered was softness.
Jack slid one hand lower, over Vanessa’s flat stomach, fingertips grazing the waist of her denim skirt. Philip’s pulse spiked. He could feel the shape of her body in ways he’d only imagined.
“God, you’re actually shaking,” Jack teased. He pressed his palm harder, dragging upward until he cupped one of Vanessa’s breasts through her shirt. His hand molded perfectly to the curve, fingers sinking in slightly before closing over the nipples and pinching.
Philip jolted like he’d been shocked. The pressure sent heat exploding through him. So much sharper than he ever imagined. A moan slipped out, broken and needy, before he could stop it. Jack laughed low, his voice a husky echo in Katy’s mouth.
“I knew it. You’re loving this.”
Philip shook his head, but his body betrayed him. Vanessa’s breasts were soft in his own hands when Jack pulled them into place, squeezing and kneading.
The ache in his chest spread downward, a molten restlessness that coiled between his legs, where there was no longer any familiar weight. Only a slick, sensitive heat that made his thighs tense. Jack leaned closer, kissing the side of Vanessa's neck.
Katy’s lips left tingling sparks against her skin. He gasped again, tilting his head back without meaning to, giving Jack room to explore.
“You always wanted to know what she felt like, didn’t you?” Jack murmured between kisses. “Now you do. Every inch. Every little twitch. If you ever get the chance, you could make her cum in minutes.”
Philip squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t want to want this. But Vanessa’s body was singing beneath his skin, her curves hypersensitive to every touch, every squeeze. When Jack dragged his hand lower, cupping the swell of her ass through denim, Philip’s knees went weak. He stumbled, and they tumbled together onto the nearest bed. Vanessa’s smaller frame pinned beneath Katy’s.
Jack landed on top, grinning down, hair falling in a dark curtain around their faces. “Just lie back and enjoy it,” he said, voice husky. “I’ll do all the work and you can take notes in your head.”
Katy’s hips pressed down, grinding just enough for Philip to feel the press of her pussy against Vanessa's. The pleasure nearly made him see stars. What would it feel like if Katy actually touched her clit? Dragged her tongue over it? Sucked it between those soft lips?
Philip whimpered, his hands trapped between them, pressed against the curves of Katy’s sides. He could feel the warmth of skin through fabric. Every nerve screamed with arousal. Jack leaned down, lips hovering over his.
“Tell me you don’t want this.”
Philip’s heart thundered. His lips parted, and he didn’t know if he was going to say I don’t or kiss Katy. His pulse roared in his ears. He could feel the weight of Vanessa’s chest rising and falling too fast, her heartbeat thundering in her ribs like a trapped animal.
Jack hovered over him, Katy’s taller frame caging him against the mattress, their borrowed hair spilling together in a curtain that smelled faintly of fruit.
“This isn’t funny anymore,” Philip rasped, but his voice cracked, betraying the tremor of arousal under the words.
Jack smirked. “I’m not joking.” He lowered Katy’s body until their breasts touched, brushing Katy’s peaked nipples against Vanessa’s rock hard ones. The friction alone made Philip gasp, heat shooting through him. It wasn’t like pressing chest-to-chest with another guy.
The give, the shape, the electric sting of nipples touching, every detail was overwhelming. He had no idea breasts were so receptive to the slightest touch. Vanessa's wasn’t even uncovered and they made him squirm.
“God,” he groaned before he could stop himself. Jack’s grin widened in satisfaction.
“Feels good, doesn’t it? Every touch goes both ways. You squeeze her,” He pressed Katy’s hand down onto one of Vanessa’s breasts, forcing Philip to feel it fully, “And you are her.”
Philip arched into the contact despite himself. His hands moved up without any conscious thought. The weight of her breast in his palm, the nipple reacting instantly under his touch, each tiny spark flooded through him in a way his male body never reacted to anything but pressure on his cock.
He kneaded once, twice, and heat surged low in his stomach, between his thighs, turning his panties damp. His back bowed off the mattress, mouth falling open in a helpless sound.
Jack kissed him then. Katy’s mouth grazing Vanessa's jaw, the corner of her mouth, teasing as it moved around.
Every brush of her sweet lips left a wet, burning mark. Philip turned away, breathless, but Jack followed, biting gently at Vanessa’s neck until Philip gasped.
His thighs clenched hard. Something slick and molten was spreading there, pulsing with every beat of his heart. He could feel the absence, the soft, tender heat where his cock would usually be straining.
The pressure of denim against it only sharpened the ache. He needed Jack to touch Vanessa's pussy. He needed pressure. Jack ground down lightly and Philip bucked up helplessly, his own hands gripping Katy’s hips tight, chasing the friction he’d die without.
“Stop,” he panted, but the word broke halfway, turning into a moan. Jack chuckled low.
“Your body doesn’t want me to stop.” He kissed Vanessa again. Her lips plump, glossy, trembling beneath Katy’s teasing press. Philip’s breath hitched and his tongue flicked nervously against the edge of his teeth.
Every nerve screamed to close the distance, to taste what it felt like to kiss as a girl, to be kissed as a girl. Jack deepened the grind of their hips. Philip’s breath hitched sharply, a helpless whimper leaving his throat.
Heat surged through his belly, down his thighs, the ache between his legs swelling into a throbbing need. He arched against Katy, nails digging into her waist. There’s no way he was going to be able to say no. Jack had to make him cum.
Jack pulled back slightly, asking with twinkling eyes, “Shall we see how good Katy is at eating pussy?”
Philip knew what his answer should be, but his entire body was throbbing, yes yes yes.
Their mouths hovered a fraction apart, breaths mingling. The world narrowed to that single point of contact waiting to happen. Philip’s lips parted, ready, needy.
“Vanessa? Katy?” The voice cut through the fog like a blade, followed by the rap of knuckles on the door.
Philip’s eyes flew wide. Jack froze above him, both of them panting hard. “Vanessa, Katy!” another girl called from the hall. “We need you for the final discussions for tonight’s mixer!”
Silence. Only their ragged breaths, the hot press of bodies still locked together. Jack swore under his breath, rolling off Vanessa reluctantly.
“Just when things were about to get really good.”
Philip scrambled upright, Vanessa’s hair tangling in his face, chest heaving, nipples still hard and aching. He shoved shaky hands through the strands, trying to compose himself, though the slick heat between his thighs throbbed in open defiance.
He knew they should have kept their heads. If they let curiosity drag them off course they would blow the whole point of the night. The spell would end when it wanted and they had no idea when that would be.
Another knock. “Come on, you two! Hurry up! Megan saw you get in earlier, I know you’re in there.”
Jack smirked, tugging Katy’s tank top straight as if they hadn’t just been seconds from fucking each other into oblivion.
“Guess there’s more fun ahead. Don’t think you’re off the hook though, I’m still going to eat that pussy later and I fully expect to get repaid in kind.”
Philip sat frozen, heart still hammering, his mind spinning so fast he worried he might throw up.
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Rumors about a possession themed website on the dark web have been going around. A man named John and his four friends, Kevin, James, Steve, and Russel, come across the website by chance, and they all think it's just some fake website... but they decide to try it out, given the first hour of possession was free for new users. They signed up and opted to just possess the bodies of John's neighbors, the Drews. The family consisted of a MILF mom, a fitness model dad, a med student daughter, and two fraternal twins (a male and female) who had just started their freshman year in college.
John and his friends were surprised the site actually worked, and their curiosity got the better of them. They had sex in every possible combination: mother and son, father and daughters, sisters and brother, mother and sister... lets just say that John and his friends became frequent users of the site, with the Drew family being their main hosts!
The air in my apartment was thick with exhaustion and the lingering stench of energy drinks. Finals had officially wrecked us—Kevin was sprawled across the couch like a corpse, James was rubbing his temples like he was trying to erase the last 72 hours from memory, and Steve and Russel were slumped on the floor, barely conscious.
Russel scrolled lazily through his phone before suddenly sitting up. "No way. You guys seeing this shit?" He turned the screen toward us, revealing a Reddit thread with the title: "BodyPossession.com is LEGIT—I spent an hour as my hot neighbor and now I’m addicted."
Kevin snorted. "Yeah, and I’m Elon Musk. That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard."
James groaned. "If people could just steal bodies, the world would be a nightmare. Think about it—politicians, celebrities, your ex? Total chaos."
Russel smirked. "Tell that to the thousands of people swearing it works. Says you upload a pic, pay in crypto, and boom—first hour’s free. Like a trial run."
Steve, who had been half-asleep, cracked an eye open. "Okay, hypothetically—if this wasn’t complete bullshit—who would you even possess?"
A slow, stupid grin spread across my face.
I grabbed my laptop. "Only one way to find out."
The guys groaned, half-heartedly protesting, but curiosity got the better of them as they crowded behind me. I typed BodyPossession.com into Google, fully expecting nothing but scam links.
But there it was—first result. No shady redirects, no sketchy warnings. Just a sleek black-and-white homepage with bold letters:
"TEMPORARY BODY HOSTING. FIRST HOUR FREE."
Silence.
Russel exhaled. "What the actual fuck."
Kevin jabbed my arm. "This has got to be fake."
I clicked the gallery. Hundreds of faces loaded—some smiling for the camera, others caught unaware, like the site had scraped every social media profile in existence. A cold tingle slithered down my neck, but I ignored it, scrolling faster.
"Let’s keep it simple," I said, pulling up the Drews’ Instagram—our insanely hot neighbors who lived one floor above us.
Samantha Drew, late 40s but looking like she could pass for a decade younger, full lips and curves that made yoga pants look like a crime. Henry Drew, six-foot-something of sculpted muscle, the kind of guy who probably bench-pressed his kids for fun. Their daughter, Sophie, medical student by day, knockout by night, with that dangerous combo of brains and a body that belonged in a magazine. And the twins—Abby, a lithe, bright-eyed brunette with legs for days, and Lance, her cocky, broad-shouldered counterpart who acted like the dorm showers were his personal runway.
Steve let out a low whistle. "Oh yeah. Mom’s mine."
"The hell she is," James snapped, elbowing him. "Dibs don’t mean shit—this isn’t monopoly."
Russel pinched the bridge of his nose. "Guys. First things first—who the hell gets last pick? Because I know none of you are volunteering."
I tuned them out. My fingers moved before I could second-guess—cropping Henry’s sharply defined jawline from a Cabo vacation pic and dropping it onto the site.
HOST SELECTED: HENRY DREW
FIRST HOUR FREE. SESSION BEGINS IN 10…
Kevin yanked at the laptop. "John, no—think for one goddamn second—!"
Russel just cackled. "Oh, you beautiful, reckless bastard—"
The screen flared white.
Then—nothing.
John and his friends were surprised the site actually worked, and their curiosity got the better of them. They had sex in every possible combination: mother and son, father and daughters, sisters and brother, mother and sister... lets just say that John and his friends became frequent users of the site, with the Drew family being their main hosts!
The air in my apartment was thick with exhaustion and the lingering stench of energy drinks. Finals had officially wrecked us—Kevin was sprawled across the couch like a corpse, James was rubbing his temples like he was trying to erase the last 72 hours from memory, and Steve and Russel were slumped on the floor, barely conscious.
Russel scrolled lazily through his phone before suddenly sitting up. "No way. You guys seeing this shit?" He turned the screen toward us, revealing a Reddit thread with the title: "BodyPossession.com is LEGIT—I spent an hour as my hot neighbor and now I’m addicted."
Kevin snorted. "Yeah, and I’m Elon Musk. That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard."
James groaned. "If people could just steal bodies, the world would be a nightmare. Think about it—politicians, celebrities, your ex? Total chaos."
Russel smirked. "Tell that to the thousands of people swearing it works. Says you upload a pic, pay in crypto, and boom—first hour’s free. Like a trial run."
Steve, who had been half-asleep, cracked an eye open. "Okay, hypothetically—if this wasn’t complete bullshit—who would you even possess?"
A slow, stupid grin spread across my face.
I grabbed my laptop. "Only one way to find out."
The guys groaned, half-heartedly protesting, but curiosity got the better of them as they crowded behind me. I typed BodyPossession.com into Google, fully expecting nothing but scam links.
But there it was—first result. No shady redirects, no sketchy warnings. Just a sleek black-and-white homepage with bold letters:
"TEMPORARY BODY HOSTING. FIRST HOUR FREE."
Silence.
Russel exhaled. "What the actual fuck."
Kevin jabbed my arm. "This has got to be fake."
I clicked the gallery. Hundreds of faces loaded—some smiling for the camera, others caught unaware, like the site had scraped every social media profile in existence. A cold tingle slithered down my neck, but I ignored it, scrolling faster.
"Let’s keep it simple," I said, pulling up the Drews’ Instagram—our insanely hot neighbors who lived one floor above us.
Samantha Drew, late 40s but looking like she could pass for a decade younger, full lips and curves that made yoga pants look like a crime. Henry Drew, six-foot-something of sculpted muscle, the kind of guy who probably bench-pressed his kids for fun. Their daughter, Sophie, medical student by day, knockout by night, with that dangerous combo of brains and a body that belonged in a magazine. And the twins—Abby, a lithe, bright-eyed brunette with legs for days, and Lance, her cocky, broad-shouldered counterpart who acted like the dorm showers were his personal runway.
Steve let out a low whistle. "Oh yeah. Mom’s mine."
"The hell she is," James snapped, elbowing him. "Dibs don’t mean shit—this isn’t monopoly."
Russel pinched the bridge of his nose. "Guys. First things first—who the hell gets last pick? Because I know none of you are volunteering."
I tuned them out. My fingers moved before I could second-guess—cropping Henry’s sharply defined jawline from a Cabo vacation pic and dropping it onto the site.
HOST SELECTED: HENRY DREW
FIRST HOUR FREE. SESSION BEGINS IN 10…
Kevin yanked at the laptop. "John, no—think for one goddamn second—!"
Russel just cackled. "Oh, you beautiful, reckless bastard—"
The screen flared white.
Then—nothing.
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A strange erotic story about a teenage boy named Nick and his lovely big-tittied girlfriend named Gena who asked to be his mom for the role.
This story was inspired by CelineTF from DeviantArt
Being My Mom
The room was bathed in soft golden light as I pressed my lips against Gena’s, our bodies pressed together on the bed, breath mingling in the warm space between us. She tasted sweet, like the candy-flavored lip gloss she always wore, and her full, pillowy lips moved against mine with practiced ease. My hands slid down her sides, feeling every curve of her tight little body before settling on her thick thighs, squeezing gently. She let out a soft moan against my mouth, her nails digging lightly into my shoulders.
“Nick…” she whispered, her voice already breathy with want. Her enormous E-cup tits pressed against my chest, the softness making my cock twitch in my jeans.
I broke the kiss just long enough to smirk. “You’re so fucking hot, Gena.”
She giggled, her blue eyes sparkling. “You say that like you don’t tell me every day.”
“‘Cause it’s true every day,” I shot back, slipping a hand under her crop-top to palm her tits. She sighed, arching into my touch, her pink nipples already stiff beneath the fabric of her bra.
We didn’t waste time—clothes were yanked off, tossed carelessly onto the floor, until she was naked beneath me, all smooth, tanned skin and plush curves. Her tits spilled into my hands as I lowered my mouth to one perfect nipple, sucking while my fingers teased the other. She gasped, thighs tightening around my waist, already grinding down against the bulge in my boxers.
“Fuck, Nick…”
I didn’t make her wait. My boxers came off, her hand wrapping around my cock, stroking once, twice, before she guided me to her soaked pussy. The first thrust made us both groan, her tight wet heat clamping around me as I bottomed out inside her.
“You feel so good,” I muttered into her neck, hips already moving slow and deep.
She whimpered, her nails scratching down my back. “Harder, baby, please—”
I obliged, pistoning into her, the sound of skin slapping filling the room. Her tits bounced with every movement, her moans going higher and more desperate as she clawed at me, pulling me deeper. I could feel her clenching around me, her thighs trembling as she got close.
“Cum for me,” I growled, tilting my hips just right to hit that spot inside her that made her scream.
Gena shattered beneath me, back arching as she came hard, her pussy squeezing my cock tight. The sight of her—flushed, gasping, tits heaving—was enough to push me over the edge. I buried myself deep as I came, groaning as warmth spilled inside her.
For a few blissful moments, we just breathed together, still joined, her fingers lazily tracing circles on my back. Then, reluctantly, I pulled out and collapsed beside her, pulling her close. She snuggled into me, her head resting on my chest, her leg draped over mine.
I stroked her blonde hair absentmindedly, enjoying the warmth of her body. But my mind was already drifting to something else—the turning of the calendar, the anticipation in my gut.
“Gena,” I murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Next month is March.”
She hummed. “Mhm. Got something special planned?”
I hesitated, heart pounding. “You ever heard the term… ‘March Needs Mom’?”
She pulled back just enough to look up at me, eyebrows raised. A slow, knowing smile curled her lips, and she bit her lower lip. “I might’ve heard of it.”
I swallowed. “Would you… would you be okay with it? If—if, by the end of March, you became mine?”
Her smile turned radiant. “You mean your mom?”
“Yeah.”
She giggled, pressing a soft kiss to my throat. “I’d love that, Nick. I’ve always loved the idea of being a mom.”
A thrill shot through me. She wanted this.
And so it began.
At first, the changes were subtle. A slight rounding of her hips. A new softness to her cheeks. Then, her tits—already massive—swelled even fuller, heavier, until she had to start wearing bras just to keep them supported. I watched in fascination as each morning, Gena seemed older, more mature, her face gaining gentle laugh lines, her body filling out into a perfect, thick MILF shape.
By the second week, her waist nipped in sharply, her ass rounder, thighs thicker, until she had that perfect, fuckable hourglass figure. She wasn’t just hot anymore—she was mom hot.
And she had no idea it was happening.
“Is it just me, or have my boobs gotten bigger?” she mused one morning, adjusting her sweater awkwardly over her now-massive M-cups.
I smirked, stepping closer to palm them possessively. “Might’ve. Not complaining.”
She swatted my hand away with a playful scowl. “Nick! Don’t be weird.”
But she was blushing. And she didn’t stop me when I did it again.
Her personality shifted too—gentler, sweeter, more nurturing. She started fussing over me, making sure I ate right, fixing my clothes. By the third week, she was calling me ‘honey’ and ‘sweetie’ in a voice that was unmistakably maternal.
And then, one morning, she walked into the kitchen, and my jaw dropped.
Gena was gone.
In her place stood Geraldine—my perfect, thick, buxom MILF mom. Her blonde hair was longer now, streaked with hints of silver, tied back in a loose bun. Her face was mature, beautiful, with just the right amount of wrinkles to make her look experienced. And her body—fuck—those tits were enormous, straining against her sweater, her hips wide, her ass a perfect handful. The way she moved was different too, slower, graceful, with a sway that screamed motherly confidence.
She looked up from the stove where she was cooking pancakes and smiled at me—a warm, loving smile that made my heart race.
“Morning, sweetheart,” she said, her voice richer, deeper. “Hungry?”
I could barely speak. “Yeah. Yeah, Mom.”
Her smile widened like that was the most natural thing in the world.
And when she bent over to grab the syrup from the cabinet, giving me a perfect view of her thick ass in those tight mom jeans, I knew—I was never calling her Gena again.
---
At the moment, I couldn’t take my eyes off her—Geraldine—my mom. The way her hips swayed as she moved around the kitchen, the way her huge tits bounced slightly with each step, the warm smell of pancakes and vanilla perfume filling the air. She hummed a soft tune under her breath, completely at ease, completely natural, like she’d always been my mother.
My cock throbbed in my boxers.
“Sweetheart, stop standing there and sit down,” she chided gently, pouring a glass of orange juice for me. Her fingers—older now, softer—brushed against mine as she handed it to me, and I swear I felt a jolt of electricity.
I obeyed, sliding into my seat, my eyes locked onto hers. She smiled down at me, her expression full of affection as she flipped the pancakes.
She doesn’t even know she was ever Gena.
The thought made my pulse race even faster.
She turned slightly, and my breath hitched. The morning sunlight caught the curves of her body perfectly—her waist dipped in before flaring out into those wide, motherly hips, her ass round and plump beneath her tight jeans. I could see the faint outline of her bra through her sweater, the straps digging into the soft flesh of her shoulders as they struggled to contain her heavy M-cup tits.
“Eat up, baby,” she said, sliding a plate of pancakes in front of me before leaning down—oh God—her tits pressing together as she reached past me for the syrup. Her cleavage was right there, inches from my face, warm and fragrant.
I wanted to bury my face in them.
Instead, I cleared my throat, shifting in my seat to hide my growing erection. “Thanks, Mom.”
She sat across from me, smiling as she watched me eat. “You’re such a good boy.”
Fuck.
I nearly choked on my food.
The way she said it—soft, approving, maternal—sent a rush of heat straight to my dick.
---
After breakfast, she insisted on doing the laundry. I followed her like a lovesick puppy, watching as she bent over the washing machine, her jeans pulling taut over her perfect ass. My fingers itched to grab her, to pull her against me and grind my cock into that thick behind until she moaned.
But I couldn’t. Not yet.
Not until she really understood her place.
Later that afternoon, we sat on the couch together, watching some stupid daytime talk show. She had her legs tucked under herself, her posture relaxed, her sweater stretching over those massive tits. I pretended to be engrossed in the TV, but my mind was elsewhere.
Then, she let out a content sigh and leaned her head on my shoulder.
“You know, Nicky,” she murmured, her fingers idly playing with the hem of her shirt. “I’m really happy we’re so close.”
My heart pounded. “Yeah?”
“Mhm.” She lifted her head just enough to look at me, her blue eyes warm. “A mother and son should always have a strong bond.”
Her hand found mine, squeezing gently.
Oh my God. She has no idea.
I swallowed, hesitating for only a second before tightening my grip on her fingers. “Yeah… we should be close.”
She smiled, pleased.
Then—fuck it—I took the plunge.
I leaned in and kissed her.
For a second, she froze. Then, to my shock, her lips moved against mine, soft and warm, before she pulled back with a bewildered little laugh.
“Oh, Nicky,” she said, her cheeks pink. “You—you can’t kiss me like that.”
I searched her face. “Why not?”
She bit her lip, her eyes flickering with something I couldn’t quite read. “It’s just… not what a son does.”
“But what if I want to?” I murmured, inching closer until our noses brushed.
Her breath hitched, her chest rising and falling quickly. “Nicky…”
I didn’t wait for her to finish.
This time, when I kissed her, she melted.
Her lips parted under mine with a soft moan, her fingers tangling in my hair as she kissed me back—harder, needier. One of her hands slid down my chest, fingers skimming over my stomach before hesitating at the waistband of my sweatpants.
“Is this… is this okay?” she whispered between kisses, her voice trembling.
I groaned, gripping her hips and pulling her into my lap. “More than okay, Mom.”
Her face flushed even deeper, but she didn’t protest as I tugged her sweater off, revealing the lacy pink bra barely containing her huge, milky tits.
“Oh God,” I breathed before burying my face in them, sucking her nipples through the fabric.
She gasped, arching into me, her thighs clenching around my hips. “Oh! Oh, baby… oh my baby…”
Her words sent a thrill through me.
She was mine now, in every way.
And as I laid her back on the couch, yanking her jeans down her thick thighs, she didn’t stop me.
Instead, she spread her legs for her son.
---
Geraldine gasped as I pulled her jeans and panties down in one smooth motion, her thick thighs trembling as they spread open for me. Her curvy body was flushed pink with arousal, her huge M-cup tits heaving with each breath as I loomed over her on the couch.
"Nick—oh god—we shouldn't... I'm your—"
"Say it, Mom," I growled, palming one of her massive breasts while my other hand trailed fingers along her soaking wet pussy lips. "Tell me who you belong to."
She moaned, her back arching as my fingers dipped inside her dripping entrance. "I-I'm your mother, baby... ohhh, yes right there!"
Her plush pussy clenched around my fingers shamelessly, her motherly instincts warring with her sudden lust for her own son. I could see the struggle in her half-lidded eyes even as she ground her hips against my hand, her thick thighs squeezing around my wrist. The way her big, milky tits jiggled with every movement sent blood rushing straight to my cock.
"Fuck, Mom, look at you," I groaned, pulling my spit-slick fingers from her pussy only to lick them clean right in front of her. She watched with wide eyes as I sucked her juices off my fingers, her plump lips parting with a needy whimper.
"You taste so sweet... kinda like that peach cobbler you made last week."
Geraldine's entire body shuddered at that, her maternal pride mingling with filthy arousal. "Nicky, you can't say things like—ahhh!" Her protest turned into a moan as I suddenly stuffed two fingers back inside her, curling them against that spongy spot that made her eyes roll back.
"Why not?" I smirked, scissoring my fingers inside her tight, wet channel. "Am I not your good boy?"
Her slick coated my hand as I finger-fucked her faster, her pussy making lewd squelching sounds that echoed in the quiet living room. Her large breasts bounced with each thrust of my fingers, her pink nipples rock hard beneath her lacy bra.
"Y-you are!" she gasped, her manicured nails digging into the couch cushions. "Y-you're my perfect boy, my good sweet son, oh god Nicky don't stop—!"
I didn't.
Instead, I ripped her bra off with my free hand, finally freeing those massive udders that had tormented me all morning. Her soft, pale flesh spilled into my hands, the sheer weight of them making my mouth water. I latched onto one stiff nipple, sucking hard while my fingers worked her pussy relentlessly.
Geraldine came with a strangled scream, her thick thighs clamping around my hand as her pussy gushed around my fingers. Her tits jiggled wildly from the force of her orgasm, milky skin flushed deep pink. I drank in every second—the way her motherly eyes glazed over with pleasure, how her manicured hands clutched at me desperately, those full lips trembling as she moaned my name.
When she finally came down from her high, panting and sweaty, I wasted no time yanking my sweatpants down and freeing my aching cock. Her heavy-lidded eyes locked onto my thick length, her pink lips parting in awe.
"My sweet boy is... so big," she breathed, one trembling hand reaching out to stroke me.
"Yours, Mom," I groaned, thrusting into her soft grip. "All yours. Want to be inside you."
Her maternal instincts should have protested. She should've stopped me right then.Instead, she spread her thick thighs even wider.
I lined up my cock with her drooling entrance, watching with rapt attention as the swollen head pressed against her slick folds. Geraldine bit her plush lower lip, her huge tits rising and falling rapidly as she nodded her consent.
Slowly—too slowly for either of our liking—I pushed inside.
Her gasp turned into a broken moan as inch after inch disappeared between her puffy outer lips. She was soaking wet, her tight walls squeezing me perfectly as I bottomed out in her velvety heat.
"Oh fuck," I groaned, gripping her wide hips. "Mom... you're so tight..."
Her glossy lips curved into a shaky smile, one hand coming up to cup my cheek. "That's because I only ever had you, sweetheart... my perfect baby boy."
The way her pussy fluttered around me at those words told me she wasn't referring to childbirth.
I started moving.
-----
Geraldine's breath hitched as I pulled out slowly, her pussy clinging to me like it didn’t want to let go. But when I thrust back in—hard—she let out a high-pitched moan, her huge tits bouncing with the force of it.
"Nnngh—oh god, Nicky!"
Her thighs trembled around my hips as I settled into a deep, relentless rhythm, each thrust punctuated by the wet slap of skin on skin. Her manicured nails dug into my shoulders, her face a mix of maternal adoration and carnal hunger.
"I-Is this okay, baby?" she gasped, even as she rolled her hips to meet each of my thrusts. "W-We shouldn't—ohhh!—but it feels so good..."
"Of course it's okay, Mom," I grunted, palming one of her massive tits, squeezing it roughly. "You were made for this. Made for me."
She whined, her slick walls tightening around my cock at the possessiveness in my voice. I could see the war in her eyes—the part of her that knew this was wrong battling the part that wanted to surrender completely to her son.
And as I leaned down to capture her nipple between my teeth, sucking hard while my fingers pinched the other, she didn't just surrender—she broke.
"Yours!" she screamed, her back arching as her pussy convulsed around me. "Yours yours yours, my boy, m-my good boy!"
Her orgasm hit her like a freight train, her whole body shaking, her thick thighs clamping around me, desperate to keep me buried inside her. I didn’t let up—couldn't let up—pounding into her through her climax, chasing my own.
Her eyes flew open, glazed over with pleasure, her plush lips swollen from biting them. "Cum inside me," she begged, her voice wrecked. "Please, baby, give it to Mommy—fill me!"
That was all I needed.
With a final brutal thrust, I buried myself as deep as I could and came, my orgasm ripping through me like a fucking explosion. Geraldine moaned, her arms circling around my neck as she held me close, whispering praise into my ear.
"That's my good boy... oh, you're so perfect... Mommy loves you so much..."
I shuddered at her words, my cock still twitching inside her as I emptied every last drop into her greedy womb.
When I finally pulled out, her pussy was a mess—my cum leaking out of her, glistening on her plump lower lips. She didn't even try to wipe it away.
Instead, she lay there, breathless and flushed, her huge tits rising as she panted. Then, with a soft giggle, she pulled me against her bosom, cradling my head like she used to when I was little.
"Mmm... my sweet baby," she murmured, stroking my hair.
I smirked, glancing up at her between the valley of her cleavage. "Love you too, Mom."
She blushed, but her smile didn't falter.
Later that night, I caught her standing in front of the mirror wearing one of Gena's old dresses—a little pink sundress that barely contained her new, thicker body.
I froze in the doorway.
She turned, her cheeks flushing as she fidgeted with the hem. "D-Does it look okay...?"
I swallowed hard.
She looked adorable. The way the dress strained against her huge tits, how it hugged every new curve of her thick, motherly body—like some perfect mix of my sweet girlfriend and my even sweeter mom.
But there was something else.
Something nostalgic in the way she played with the fabric.
Like a part of Gena was still in there somewhere.
I crossed the room in three long strides, pulling her into a deep, slow kiss.
"Perfect," I murmured against her lips. "Just like always."
She melted into me, her hands finding mine.
And for the first time, I wondered—
Maybe I could have both.
---
The end of March arrived like stealing sunlight—warm, golden, and over too soon.
I woke up with Geraldine’s thick thighs wrapped around me, her plush body pressed flush against my back, her slow breaths tickling my neck. I could feel the weight of her pillowy tits pressed between my shoulder blades, her warm pussy still sticky against my skin from last night.
A bittersweet ache settled in my chest.
Tonight, my mom would be Gena again.
I turned in her arms, drinking in every detail—the laugh lines around her soft blue eyes, the silver streaks in her messy blonde hair, the way her plump lips curved in sleep. Her motherly scent—vanilla and lavender—filled my lungs.
She stirred, blinking awake before smiling sleepily. “Mmm… morning, sweetheart.”
I didn’t answer.
Instead, I crushed my lips to hers.
Geraldine made a startled sound, but she melted into the kiss almost immediately, her hands sliding down my chest eagerly. I didn’t hold back—I kissed her like it was our last day together, sucking on her tongue, biting her plump lower lip, my hands roaming every inch of her lush curves.
She broke away with a gasp. “Nicky—what’s gotten into you?”
I buried my face in her tits, inhaling deeply before murmuring against her soft skin, “Just don’t wanna forget.”
She understood.
Her fingers slid through my hair, guiding me up so she could kiss me again, slower this time. Sweeter.
“You won’t,” she whispered. “I promise.”
---
We spent the day together like any mother and son—breakfast, laundry, bad daytime TV—except our version included me bending Geraldine over the kitchen counter, fucking her brains out while she sobbed my name.
And after dinner?
We really said our goodbyes.
The bed creaked under us as I mounted her from behind, her thick ass pressed against my hips as I buried myself to the hilt. Geraldine arched her back, her huge tits swaying beneath her as she braced herself on trembling arms.
“T-Tell me again,” she panted, pushing back against me desperately. “Tell me who Mommy belongs to.”
“Me,” I growled, gripping her wide hips tight enough to bruise. “Only me.”
She wailed as I pistoned into her, our bodies slapping together obscenely. I knew she was close—she always was when I talked like that—and I wasn’t far behind.
My hands slid around to grope her massive tits, squeezing them roughly as I fucked into her harder, deeper.
“Gonna fill you up, Mom,” I grunted. “One last time.”
She came with a shattered scream, her pussy milking my cock as I spilled inside her one final time.
We collapsed together, breathless and sweating, her body curled around mine.
And then she said the words I didn’t know I needed to hear—
“I’ll remember everything… and I’ll miss you, Nicky.”
---
The next morning, sunlight streamed through the windows.
I rolled over, expecting warmth—expecting her.
Instead, I found Gena.
Her real face—young, bright, familiar—staring at me with soft wonder.
No silver in her hair. No laugh lines.
All Gena.
I froze.
But then—
She smiled. A slow, knowing, beautiful smile.
“So…” she murmured, stretching her arms above her head with a playful yawn. “Turns out being your mom was really fun.”
My pulse exploded.
She remembered.
Gena giggled at my expression before leaning in, pressing her lips to my ear—
“Maybe we should do it again, probably on the next March? Or should we do it on Mother's day? Or how about being your Grandma, if you want to?”
I grabbed her, flipping her onto her back as she shrieked with laughter.
Yeah.
We definitely would.
(The End.)
This story was inspired by CelineTF from DeviantArt
Being My Mom
The room was bathed in soft golden light as I pressed my lips against Gena’s, our bodies pressed together on the bed, breath mingling in the warm space between us. She tasted sweet, like the candy-flavored lip gloss she always wore, and her full, pillowy lips moved against mine with practiced ease. My hands slid down her sides, feeling every curve of her tight little body before settling on her thick thighs, squeezing gently. She let out a soft moan against my mouth, her nails digging lightly into my shoulders.
“Nick…” she whispered, her voice already breathy with want. Her enormous E-cup tits pressed against my chest, the softness making my cock twitch in my jeans.
I broke the kiss just long enough to smirk. “You’re so fucking hot, Gena.”
She giggled, her blue eyes sparkling. “You say that like you don’t tell me every day.”
“‘Cause it’s true every day,” I shot back, slipping a hand under her crop-top to palm her tits. She sighed, arching into my touch, her pink nipples already stiff beneath the fabric of her bra.
We didn’t waste time—clothes were yanked off, tossed carelessly onto the floor, until she was naked beneath me, all smooth, tanned skin and plush curves. Her tits spilled into my hands as I lowered my mouth to one perfect nipple, sucking while my fingers teased the other. She gasped, thighs tightening around my waist, already grinding down against the bulge in my boxers.
“Fuck, Nick…”
I didn’t make her wait. My boxers came off, her hand wrapping around my cock, stroking once, twice, before she guided me to her soaked pussy. The first thrust made us both groan, her tight wet heat clamping around me as I bottomed out inside her.
“You feel so good,” I muttered into her neck, hips already moving slow and deep.
She whimpered, her nails scratching down my back. “Harder, baby, please—”
I obliged, pistoning into her, the sound of skin slapping filling the room. Her tits bounced with every movement, her moans going higher and more desperate as she clawed at me, pulling me deeper. I could feel her clenching around me, her thighs trembling as she got close.
“Cum for me,” I growled, tilting my hips just right to hit that spot inside her that made her scream.
Gena shattered beneath me, back arching as she came hard, her pussy squeezing my cock tight. The sight of her—flushed, gasping, tits heaving—was enough to push me over the edge. I buried myself deep as I came, groaning as warmth spilled inside her.
For a few blissful moments, we just breathed together, still joined, her fingers lazily tracing circles on my back. Then, reluctantly, I pulled out and collapsed beside her, pulling her close. She snuggled into me, her head resting on my chest, her leg draped over mine.
I stroked her blonde hair absentmindedly, enjoying the warmth of her body. But my mind was already drifting to something else—the turning of the calendar, the anticipation in my gut.
“Gena,” I murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Next month is March.”
She hummed. “Mhm. Got something special planned?”
I hesitated, heart pounding. “You ever heard the term… ‘March Needs Mom’?”
She pulled back just enough to look up at me, eyebrows raised. A slow, knowing smile curled her lips, and she bit her lower lip. “I might’ve heard of it.”
I swallowed. “Would you… would you be okay with it? If—if, by the end of March, you became mine?”
Her smile turned radiant. “You mean your mom?”
“Yeah.”
She giggled, pressing a soft kiss to my throat. “I’d love that, Nick. I’ve always loved the idea of being a mom.”
A thrill shot through me. She wanted this.
And so it began.
At first, the changes were subtle. A slight rounding of her hips. A new softness to her cheeks. Then, her tits—already massive—swelled even fuller, heavier, until she had to start wearing bras just to keep them supported. I watched in fascination as each morning, Gena seemed older, more mature, her face gaining gentle laugh lines, her body filling out into a perfect, thick MILF shape.
By the second week, her waist nipped in sharply, her ass rounder, thighs thicker, until she had that perfect, fuckable hourglass figure. She wasn’t just hot anymore—she was mom hot.
And she had no idea it was happening.
“Is it just me, or have my boobs gotten bigger?” she mused one morning, adjusting her sweater awkwardly over her now-massive M-cups.
I smirked, stepping closer to palm them possessively. “Might’ve. Not complaining.”
She swatted my hand away with a playful scowl. “Nick! Don’t be weird.”
But she was blushing. And she didn’t stop me when I did it again.
Her personality shifted too—gentler, sweeter, more nurturing. She started fussing over me, making sure I ate right, fixing my clothes. By the third week, she was calling me ‘honey’ and ‘sweetie’ in a voice that was unmistakably maternal.
And then, one morning, she walked into the kitchen, and my jaw dropped.
Gena was gone.
In her place stood Geraldine—my perfect, thick, buxom MILF mom. Her blonde hair was longer now, streaked with hints of silver, tied back in a loose bun. Her face was mature, beautiful, with just the right amount of wrinkles to make her look experienced. And her body—fuck—those tits were enormous, straining against her sweater, her hips wide, her ass a perfect handful. The way she moved was different too, slower, graceful, with a sway that screamed motherly confidence.
She looked up from the stove where she was cooking pancakes and smiled at me—a warm, loving smile that made my heart race.
“Morning, sweetheart,” she said, her voice richer, deeper. “Hungry?”
I could barely speak. “Yeah. Yeah, Mom.”
Her smile widened like that was the most natural thing in the world.
And when she bent over to grab the syrup from the cabinet, giving me a perfect view of her thick ass in those tight mom jeans, I knew—I was never calling her Gena again.
---
At the moment, I couldn’t take my eyes off her—Geraldine—my mom. The way her hips swayed as she moved around the kitchen, the way her huge tits bounced slightly with each step, the warm smell of pancakes and vanilla perfume filling the air. She hummed a soft tune under her breath, completely at ease, completely natural, like she’d always been my mother.
My cock throbbed in my boxers.
“Sweetheart, stop standing there and sit down,” she chided gently, pouring a glass of orange juice for me. Her fingers—older now, softer—brushed against mine as she handed it to me, and I swear I felt a jolt of electricity.
I obeyed, sliding into my seat, my eyes locked onto hers. She smiled down at me, her expression full of affection as she flipped the pancakes.
She doesn’t even know she was ever Gena.
The thought made my pulse race even faster.
She turned slightly, and my breath hitched. The morning sunlight caught the curves of her body perfectly—her waist dipped in before flaring out into those wide, motherly hips, her ass round and plump beneath her tight jeans. I could see the faint outline of her bra through her sweater, the straps digging into the soft flesh of her shoulders as they struggled to contain her heavy M-cup tits.
“Eat up, baby,” she said, sliding a plate of pancakes in front of me before leaning down—oh God—her tits pressing together as she reached past me for the syrup. Her cleavage was right there, inches from my face, warm and fragrant.
I wanted to bury my face in them.
Instead, I cleared my throat, shifting in my seat to hide my growing erection. “Thanks, Mom.”
She sat across from me, smiling as she watched me eat. “You’re such a good boy.”
Fuck.
I nearly choked on my food.
The way she said it—soft, approving, maternal—sent a rush of heat straight to my dick.
---
After breakfast, she insisted on doing the laundry. I followed her like a lovesick puppy, watching as she bent over the washing machine, her jeans pulling taut over her perfect ass. My fingers itched to grab her, to pull her against me and grind my cock into that thick behind until she moaned.
But I couldn’t. Not yet.
Not until she really understood her place.
Later that afternoon, we sat on the couch together, watching some stupid daytime talk show. She had her legs tucked under herself, her posture relaxed, her sweater stretching over those massive tits. I pretended to be engrossed in the TV, but my mind was elsewhere.
Then, she let out a content sigh and leaned her head on my shoulder.
“You know, Nicky,” she murmured, her fingers idly playing with the hem of her shirt. “I’m really happy we’re so close.”
My heart pounded. “Yeah?”
“Mhm.” She lifted her head just enough to look at me, her blue eyes warm. “A mother and son should always have a strong bond.”
Her hand found mine, squeezing gently.
Oh my God. She has no idea.
I swallowed, hesitating for only a second before tightening my grip on her fingers. “Yeah… we should be close.”
She smiled, pleased.
Then—fuck it—I took the plunge.
I leaned in and kissed her.
For a second, she froze. Then, to my shock, her lips moved against mine, soft and warm, before she pulled back with a bewildered little laugh.
“Oh, Nicky,” she said, her cheeks pink. “You—you can’t kiss me like that.”
I searched her face. “Why not?”
She bit her lip, her eyes flickering with something I couldn’t quite read. “It’s just… not what a son does.”
“But what if I want to?” I murmured, inching closer until our noses brushed.
Her breath hitched, her chest rising and falling quickly. “Nicky…”
I didn’t wait for her to finish.
This time, when I kissed her, she melted.
Her lips parted under mine with a soft moan, her fingers tangling in my hair as she kissed me back—harder, needier. One of her hands slid down my chest, fingers skimming over my stomach before hesitating at the waistband of my sweatpants.
“Is this… is this okay?” she whispered between kisses, her voice trembling.
I groaned, gripping her hips and pulling her into my lap. “More than okay, Mom.”
Her face flushed even deeper, but she didn’t protest as I tugged her sweater off, revealing the lacy pink bra barely containing her huge, milky tits.
“Oh God,” I breathed before burying my face in them, sucking her nipples through the fabric.
She gasped, arching into me, her thighs clenching around my hips. “Oh! Oh, baby… oh my baby…”
Her words sent a thrill through me.
She was mine now, in every way.
And as I laid her back on the couch, yanking her jeans down her thick thighs, she didn’t stop me.
Instead, she spread her legs for her son.
---
Geraldine gasped as I pulled her jeans and panties down in one smooth motion, her thick thighs trembling as they spread open for me. Her curvy body was flushed pink with arousal, her huge M-cup tits heaving with each breath as I loomed over her on the couch.
"Nick—oh god—we shouldn't... I'm your—"
"Say it, Mom," I growled, palming one of her massive breasts while my other hand trailed fingers along her soaking wet pussy lips. "Tell me who you belong to."
She moaned, her back arching as my fingers dipped inside her dripping entrance. "I-I'm your mother, baby... ohhh, yes right there!"
Her plush pussy clenched around my fingers shamelessly, her motherly instincts warring with her sudden lust for her own son. I could see the struggle in her half-lidded eyes even as she ground her hips against my hand, her thick thighs squeezing around my wrist. The way her big, milky tits jiggled with every movement sent blood rushing straight to my cock.
"Fuck, Mom, look at you," I groaned, pulling my spit-slick fingers from her pussy only to lick them clean right in front of her. She watched with wide eyes as I sucked her juices off my fingers, her plump lips parting with a needy whimper.
"You taste so sweet... kinda like that peach cobbler you made last week."
Geraldine's entire body shuddered at that, her maternal pride mingling with filthy arousal. "Nicky, you can't say things like—ahhh!" Her protest turned into a moan as I suddenly stuffed two fingers back inside her, curling them against that spongy spot that made her eyes roll back.
"Why not?" I smirked, scissoring my fingers inside her tight, wet channel. "Am I not your good boy?"
Her slick coated my hand as I finger-fucked her faster, her pussy making lewd squelching sounds that echoed in the quiet living room. Her large breasts bounced with each thrust of my fingers, her pink nipples rock hard beneath her lacy bra.
"Y-you are!" she gasped, her manicured nails digging into the couch cushions. "Y-you're my perfect boy, my good sweet son, oh god Nicky don't stop—!"
I didn't.
Instead, I ripped her bra off with my free hand, finally freeing those massive udders that had tormented me all morning. Her soft, pale flesh spilled into my hands, the sheer weight of them making my mouth water. I latched onto one stiff nipple, sucking hard while my fingers worked her pussy relentlessly.
Geraldine came with a strangled scream, her thick thighs clamping around my hand as her pussy gushed around my fingers. Her tits jiggled wildly from the force of her orgasm, milky skin flushed deep pink. I drank in every second—the way her motherly eyes glazed over with pleasure, how her manicured hands clutched at me desperately, those full lips trembling as she moaned my name.
When she finally came down from her high, panting and sweaty, I wasted no time yanking my sweatpants down and freeing my aching cock. Her heavy-lidded eyes locked onto my thick length, her pink lips parting in awe.
"My sweet boy is... so big," she breathed, one trembling hand reaching out to stroke me.
"Yours, Mom," I groaned, thrusting into her soft grip. "All yours. Want to be inside you."
Her maternal instincts should have protested. She should've stopped me right then.Instead, she spread her thick thighs even wider.
I lined up my cock with her drooling entrance, watching with rapt attention as the swollen head pressed against her slick folds. Geraldine bit her plush lower lip, her huge tits rising and falling rapidly as she nodded her consent.
Slowly—too slowly for either of our liking—I pushed inside.
Her gasp turned into a broken moan as inch after inch disappeared between her puffy outer lips. She was soaking wet, her tight walls squeezing me perfectly as I bottomed out in her velvety heat.
"Oh fuck," I groaned, gripping her wide hips. "Mom... you're so tight..."
Her glossy lips curved into a shaky smile, one hand coming up to cup my cheek. "That's because I only ever had you, sweetheart... my perfect baby boy."
The way her pussy fluttered around me at those words told me she wasn't referring to childbirth.
I started moving.
-----
Geraldine's breath hitched as I pulled out slowly, her pussy clinging to me like it didn’t want to let go. But when I thrust back in—hard—she let out a high-pitched moan, her huge tits bouncing with the force of it.
"Nnngh—oh god, Nicky!"
Her thighs trembled around my hips as I settled into a deep, relentless rhythm, each thrust punctuated by the wet slap of skin on skin. Her manicured nails dug into my shoulders, her face a mix of maternal adoration and carnal hunger.
"I-Is this okay, baby?" she gasped, even as she rolled her hips to meet each of my thrusts. "W-We shouldn't—ohhh!—but it feels so good..."
"Of course it's okay, Mom," I grunted, palming one of her massive tits, squeezing it roughly. "You were made for this. Made for me."
She whined, her slick walls tightening around my cock at the possessiveness in my voice. I could see the war in her eyes—the part of her that knew this was wrong battling the part that wanted to surrender completely to her son.
And as I leaned down to capture her nipple between my teeth, sucking hard while my fingers pinched the other, she didn't just surrender—she broke.
"Yours!" she screamed, her back arching as her pussy convulsed around me. "Yours yours yours, my boy, m-my good boy!"
Her orgasm hit her like a freight train, her whole body shaking, her thick thighs clamping around me, desperate to keep me buried inside her. I didn’t let up—couldn't let up—pounding into her through her climax, chasing my own.
Her eyes flew open, glazed over with pleasure, her plush lips swollen from biting them. "Cum inside me," she begged, her voice wrecked. "Please, baby, give it to Mommy—fill me!"
That was all I needed.
With a final brutal thrust, I buried myself as deep as I could and came, my orgasm ripping through me like a fucking explosion. Geraldine moaned, her arms circling around my neck as she held me close, whispering praise into my ear.
"That's my good boy... oh, you're so perfect... Mommy loves you so much..."
I shuddered at her words, my cock still twitching inside her as I emptied every last drop into her greedy womb.
When I finally pulled out, her pussy was a mess—my cum leaking out of her, glistening on her plump lower lips. She didn't even try to wipe it away.
Instead, she lay there, breathless and flushed, her huge tits rising as she panted. Then, with a soft giggle, she pulled me against her bosom, cradling my head like she used to when I was little.
"Mmm... my sweet baby," she murmured, stroking my hair.
I smirked, glancing up at her between the valley of her cleavage. "Love you too, Mom."
She blushed, but her smile didn't falter.
Later that night, I caught her standing in front of the mirror wearing one of Gena's old dresses—a little pink sundress that barely contained her new, thicker body.
I froze in the doorway.
She turned, her cheeks flushing as she fidgeted with the hem. "D-Does it look okay...?"
I swallowed hard.
She looked adorable. The way the dress strained against her huge tits, how it hugged every new curve of her thick, motherly body—like some perfect mix of my sweet girlfriend and my even sweeter mom.
But there was something else.
Something nostalgic in the way she played with the fabric.
Like a part of Gena was still in there somewhere.
I crossed the room in three long strides, pulling her into a deep, slow kiss.
"Perfect," I murmured against her lips. "Just like always."
She melted into me, her hands finding mine.
And for the first time, I wondered—
Maybe I could have both.
---
The end of March arrived like stealing sunlight—warm, golden, and over too soon.
I woke up with Geraldine’s thick thighs wrapped around me, her plush body pressed flush against my back, her slow breaths tickling my neck. I could feel the weight of her pillowy tits pressed between my shoulder blades, her warm pussy still sticky against my skin from last night.
A bittersweet ache settled in my chest.
Tonight, my mom would be Gena again.
I turned in her arms, drinking in every detail—the laugh lines around her soft blue eyes, the silver streaks in her messy blonde hair, the way her plump lips curved in sleep. Her motherly scent—vanilla and lavender—filled my lungs.
She stirred, blinking awake before smiling sleepily. “Mmm… morning, sweetheart.”
I didn’t answer.
Instead, I crushed my lips to hers.
Geraldine made a startled sound, but she melted into the kiss almost immediately, her hands sliding down my chest eagerly. I didn’t hold back—I kissed her like it was our last day together, sucking on her tongue, biting her plump lower lip, my hands roaming every inch of her lush curves.
She broke away with a gasp. “Nicky—what’s gotten into you?”
I buried my face in her tits, inhaling deeply before murmuring against her soft skin, “Just don’t wanna forget.”
She understood.
Her fingers slid through my hair, guiding me up so she could kiss me again, slower this time. Sweeter.
“You won’t,” she whispered. “I promise.”
---
We spent the day together like any mother and son—breakfast, laundry, bad daytime TV—except our version included me bending Geraldine over the kitchen counter, fucking her brains out while she sobbed my name.
And after dinner?
We really said our goodbyes.
The bed creaked under us as I mounted her from behind, her thick ass pressed against my hips as I buried myself to the hilt. Geraldine arched her back, her huge tits swaying beneath her as she braced herself on trembling arms.
“T-Tell me again,” she panted, pushing back against me desperately. “Tell me who Mommy belongs to.”
“Me,” I growled, gripping her wide hips tight enough to bruise. “Only me.”
She wailed as I pistoned into her, our bodies slapping together obscenely. I knew she was close—she always was when I talked like that—and I wasn’t far behind.
My hands slid around to grope her massive tits, squeezing them roughly as I fucked into her harder, deeper.
“Gonna fill you up, Mom,” I grunted. “One last time.”
She came with a shattered scream, her pussy milking my cock as I spilled inside her one final time.
We collapsed together, breathless and sweating, her body curled around mine.
And then she said the words I didn’t know I needed to hear—
“I’ll remember everything… and I’ll miss you, Nicky.”
---
The next morning, sunlight streamed through the windows.
I rolled over, expecting warmth—expecting her.
Instead, I found Gena.
Her real face—young, bright, familiar—staring at me with soft wonder.
No silver in her hair. No laugh lines.
All Gena.
I froze.
But then—
She smiled. A slow, knowing, beautiful smile.
“So…” she murmured, stretching her arms above her head with a playful yawn. “Turns out being your mom was really fun.”
My pulse exploded.
She remembered.
Gena giggled at my expression before leaning in, pressing her lips to my ear—
“Maybe we should do it again, probably on the next March? Or should we do it on Mother's day? Or how about being your Grandma, if you want to?”
I grabbed her, flipping her onto her back as she shrieked with laughter.
Yeah.
We definitely would.
(The End.)
This story tells you about a couple, a teenager named Liam and his redheaded girlfriend named Chloe who can't stop regenerating herself after sex.
Liam lay on the bed, his heart pounding with anticipation as he watched Chloe, his gorgeous redheaded girlfriend, saunter towards him. Her naked body was a vision of perfection, her E-cup tits bouncing gently with each step. She giggled, seeing the hunger in his eyes.
"Well, looks like someone's eager," Chloe teased, her voice a sweet melody that sent shivers down Liam's spine.
Liam grinned, his cock already hard and ready. "Always for you, Chloe. I've been waiting for you."
Chloe climbed onto the bed, her body straddling his as she leaned down to kiss him. Their lips met in a soft, gentle caress that quickly deepened into a passionate, hungry dance. Liam's hands roamed over her body, his fingers tracing the curves of her waist, her hips, her thighs.
Chloe moaned softly, her body pressing against his as she felt his hard cock against her stomach. She reached down, her hand wrapping around his length as she guided him to her entrance. With a soft sigh, she sank down onto him, her body taking him in completely.
Liam groaned, his hips thrusting up to meet her as they began to move together. Chloe's body was a perfect fit for his, her pussy wet and tight as it clenched around him. He reached up, his hands cupping her large breasts, his thumbs brushing over her hard nipples.
Chloe threw her head back, her red hair cascading down her back as she moaned with pleasure. "Yes, Liam. Yes! Just like that."
Liam thrust harder, his body moving in a fast, urgent rhythm. Chloe met each thrust, her body bouncing against his as their moans filled the room. The sound of their bodies slapping together was like music to their ears, a symphony of their love and passion.
Liam could feel his orgasm building, his body tensing as he approached the edge. Chloe seemed to sense it too, her body clenching around him as she moaned louder.
"Cum with me, Liam," she gasped, her body shaking with the intensity of her own orgasm. "Cum with me!"
With a final thrust, Liam cried out, his cock pulsing as he came, his hot cum filling Chloe completely. Chloe screamed with him, her body convulsing with the force of her own orgasm.
But as their bodies shook with the intensity of their climax, something strange began to happen. Chloe's body started to glow, a soft, golden light emanating from her skin. Liam stared in awe and confusion as the light grew brighter, enveloping them both.
Suddenly, Chloe screamed, her body convulsing with a different kind of force. Liam watched in shock as her body began to change, her curves shifting and growing, her hair darkening and lengthening, her face morphing into that of a stranger.
The glow faded, and in place of Chloe was a middle-aged British woman with massive O-cup tits and a body that was both familiar and alien. She gasped, her hand flying to her chest as she looked around in confusion.
"Blimey, what was that?" she said, her voice filled with a mix of shock and amusement. She looked down at Liam, her eyes widening in surprise. "Liam! You silly boy, what are you doing down there? I didn't know you were here. Silly me."
Liam stared up at her, his mouth open in shock. "Chloe? Wha... what happened to you?"
The woman, who was once Chloe, giggled, her large breasts bouncing with the movement. "Chloe? Who's Chloe? It's me, Beatrice, you silly boy. Have you been playing games with me again?"
Liam looked at her, his heart pounding. He knew that something incredible had just happened, something that defied all logic and reason. But at the same time, he found himself inexplicably turned on by her transformation.
"Beatrice?" he said, his voice hesitant. "You... you don't remember?"
Beatrice giggled again, her hand reaching out to ruffle his hair. "Remember what, silly? I'm your girlfriend, Beatrice. Been with you for donkey's years. Now come on, out you get. A lady needs her space after such a... Such whatever that was."
Liam pulled out of her, his cock still hard, still glistening with their combined juices. Beatrice looked down at it, her eyes widening in surprise.
"Well, would you look at that," she said, her voice filled with admiration. "Aren't you an eager little beaver?"
Liam grinned, his heart pounding with a mix of lust and excitement. He knew that this was wrong, that something incredible and impossible had just happened. But he also knew that he wanted her, this new woman, this stranger who was once his Chloe.
He leaned up, his lips capturing hers in a fierce kiss. Beatrice gasped, her body freezing for a moment before melting into him. She moaned softly, her body pressing against his as their kiss deepened.
When they finally pulled away, they were both breathless, their bodies shaking with need. Liam looked at her, his eyes filled with determination.
"I don't know what's happening," he said, his voice husky with lust. "But I know that I want you. I want you so fucking bad."
Beatrice looked at him, her eyes filled with a mix of shock and desire. She knew that this was wrong, that she shouldn't be feeling this way about her boyfriend. But she also knew that she couldn't deny the heat that was pooling between her legs.
"Liam... baby... slow down,... we... we can't..." she moaned, even as her body pressed against his. "I've still not quite sure what's going on."
Liam didn't listen. He just pulled her close, his lips trailing kisses down her neck, her collarbone, her chest. He captured one hard nipple in his mouth, sucking gently as his hand slid down to her pussy.
Beatrice moaned, her body arching into his touch. "Mmm... yes, Liam. Yes, touch me. Touch me there."
Liam slid two fingers into her, his thumb circling her clit as he began to fuck her with his hand. Beatrice moaned louder, her body moving with his, her hips thrusting against his touch.
"Yes, Liam. Yes! Just like that. Make me cum, baby. Make me cum all over your hand."
Liam did just that, his fingers moving faster, his thumb pressing harder against her clit. When she came, it was with a scream of pleasure, her body convulsing with the force of her orgasm.
But Liam wasn't done. He wasn't even close. He spun her around, pressing her down onto her hands and knees as he positioned himself behind her. With one hard thrust, he was inside her, his cock filling her completely.
Beatrice moaned, her body shaking with pleasure as he began to fuck her hard and deep. His hands reached around, grabbing her large breasts as he pounded into her.
"Yes, Liam. Yes! Fuck me, baby. Fuck me hard and deep."
Liam did just that, his body moving with hers in a fast, urgent rhythm. He could feel his orgasm building again, his body tensing as he approached the edge.
"Cum with me, Beatrice," he gasped, his body shaking with the intensity of his own orgasm. "Cum with me!"
Beatrice screamed with him, her body convulsing with the force of her own orgasm. When they finally collapsed onto the bed, their bodies slick with sweat and their breaths coming in quick gasps, Liam knew that something incredible had happened. Something that defied all logic and reason. But he also knew that he couldn't deny the love and passion he felt for this new woman, this stranger who was once his Chloe. And he knew that he would do whatever it took to keep her, to make her his, forever.
As they laid there, their bodies entwined and their hearts pounding with a mix of love and lust, Liam knew that this was just the beginning. The beginning of a new adventure, a new journey, a new love. And he was more than ready for it. Whatever it may bring.
Liam lay on the bed, his heart pounding with anticipation as he watched Chloe, his gorgeous redheaded girlfriend, saunter towards him. Her naked body was a vision of perfection, her E-cup tits bouncing gently with each step. She giggled, seeing the hunger in his eyes.
"Well, looks like someone's eager," Chloe teased, her voice a sweet melody that sent shivers down Liam's spine.
Liam grinned, his cock already hard and ready. "Always for you, Chloe. I've been waiting for you."
Chloe climbed onto the bed, her body straddling his as she leaned down to kiss him. Their lips met in a soft, gentle caress that quickly deepened into a passionate, hungry dance. Liam's hands roamed over her body, his fingers tracing the curves of her waist, her hips, her thighs.
Chloe moaned softly, her body pressing against his as she felt his hard cock against her stomach. She reached down, her hand wrapping around his length as she guided him to her entrance. With a soft sigh, she sank down onto him, her body taking him in completely.
Liam groaned, his hips thrusting up to meet her as they began to move together. Chloe's body was a perfect fit for his, her pussy wet and tight as it clenched around him. He reached up, his hands cupping her large breasts, his thumbs brushing over her hard nipples.
Chloe threw her head back, her red hair cascading down her back as she moaned with pleasure. "Yes, Liam. Yes! Just like that."
Liam thrust harder, his body moving in a fast, urgent rhythm. Chloe met each thrust, her body bouncing against his as their moans filled the room. The sound of their bodies slapping together was like music to their ears, a symphony of their love and passion.
Liam could feel his orgasm building, his body tensing as he approached the edge. Chloe seemed to sense it too, her body clenching around him as she moaned louder.
"Cum with me, Liam," she gasped, her body shaking with the intensity of her own orgasm. "Cum with me!"
With a final thrust, Liam cried out, his cock pulsing as he came, his hot cum filling Chloe completely. Chloe screamed with him, her body convulsing with the force of her own orgasm.
But as their bodies shook with the intensity of their climax, something strange began to happen. Chloe's body started to glow, a soft, golden light emanating from her skin. Liam stared in awe and confusion as the light grew brighter, enveloping them both.
Suddenly, Chloe screamed, her body convulsing with a different kind of force. Liam watched in shock as her body began to change, her curves shifting and growing, her hair darkening and lengthening, her face morphing into that of a stranger.
The glow faded, and in place of Chloe was a middle-aged British woman with massive O-cup tits and a body that was both familiar and alien. She gasped, her hand flying to her chest as she looked around in confusion.
"Blimey, what was that?" she said, her voice filled with a mix of shock and amusement. She looked down at Liam, her eyes widening in surprise. "Liam! You silly boy, what are you doing down there? I didn't know you were here. Silly me."
Liam stared up at her, his mouth open in shock. "Chloe? Wha... what happened to you?"
The woman, who was once Chloe, giggled, her large breasts bouncing with the movement. "Chloe? Who's Chloe? It's me, Beatrice, you silly boy. Have you been playing games with me again?"
Liam looked at her, his heart pounding. He knew that something incredible had just happened, something that defied all logic and reason. But at the same time, he found himself inexplicably turned on by her transformation.
"Beatrice?" he said, his voice hesitant. "You... you don't remember?"
Beatrice giggled again, her hand reaching out to ruffle his hair. "Remember what, silly? I'm your girlfriend, Beatrice. Been with you for donkey's years. Now come on, out you get. A lady needs her space after such a... Such whatever that was."
Liam pulled out of her, his cock still hard, still glistening with their combined juices. Beatrice looked down at it, her eyes widening in surprise.
"Well, would you look at that," she said, her voice filled with admiration. "Aren't you an eager little beaver?"
Liam grinned, his heart pounding with a mix of lust and excitement. He knew that this was wrong, that something incredible and impossible had just happened. But he also knew that he wanted her, this new woman, this stranger who was once his Chloe.
He leaned up, his lips capturing hers in a fierce kiss. Beatrice gasped, her body freezing for a moment before melting into him. She moaned softly, her body pressing against his as their kiss deepened.
When they finally pulled away, they were both breathless, their bodies shaking with need. Liam looked at her, his eyes filled with determination.
"I don't know what's happening," he said, his voice husky with lust. "But I know that I want you. I want you so fucking bad."
Beatrice looked at him, her eyes filled with a mix of shock and desire. She knew that this was wrong, that she shouldn't be feeling this way about her boyfriend. But she also knew that she couldn't deny the heat that was pooling between her legs.
"Liam... baby... slow down,... we... we can't..." she moaned, even as her body pressed against his. "I've still not quite sure what's going on."
Liam didn't listen. He just pulled her close, his lips trailing kisses down her neck, her collarbone, her chest. He captured one hard nipple in his mouth, sucking gently as his hand slid down to her pussy.
Beatrice moaned, her body arching into his touch. "Mmm... yes, Liam. Yes, touch me. Touch me there."
Liam slid two fingers into her, his thumb circling her clit as he began to fuck her with his hand. Beatrice moaned louder, her body moving with his, her hips thrusting against his touch.
"Yes, Liam. Yes! Just like that. Make me cum, baby. Make me cum all over your hand."
Liam did just that, his fingers moving faster, his thumb pressing harder against her clit. When she came, it was with a scream of pleasure, her body convulsing with the force of her orgasm.
But Liam wasn't done. He wasn't even close. He spun her around, pressing her down onto her hands and knees as he positioned himself behind her. With one hard thrust, he was inside her, his cock filling her completely.
Beatrice moaned, her body shaking with pleasure as he began to fuck her hard and deep. His hands reached around, grabbing her large breasts as he pounded into her.
"Yes, Liam. Yes! Fuck me, baby. Fuck me hard and deep."
Liam did just that, his body moving with hers in a fast, urgent rhythm. He could feel his orgasm building again, his body tensing as he approached the edge.
"Cum with me, Beatrice," he gasped, his body shaking with the intensity of his own orgasm. "Cum with me!"
Beatrice screamed with him, her body convulsing with the force of her own orgasm. When they finally collapsed onto the bed, their bodies slick with sweat and their breaths coming in quick gasps, Liam knew that something incredible had happened. Something that defied all logic and reason. But he also knew that he couldn't deny the love and passion he felt for this new woman, this stranger who was once his Chloe. And he knew that he would do whatever it took to keep her, to make her his, forever.
As they laid there, their bodies entwined and their hearts pounding with a mix of love and lust, Liam knew that this was just the beginning. The beginning of a new adventure, a new journey, a new love. And he was more than ready for it. Whatever it may bring.
A hacker accidentally transfers his consciousness into a milf.
Author's note: This story is connected to the Shudder universe. You do not have to read Shudder first to understand it, but it will help you appreciate some of the characters you'll meet along the way.
In the near future, it wasn't a third world war that threatened to end humanity. It was the internal violence and unrest within each country that almost lead to the extinction of mankind. The state of the world under the control of increasingly corrupt politicians and dictators had led to the forming of a few peaceful protests. Those few had become dozens and then hundreds and thousands and the word peaceful was soon abandoned. Civil wars sprang up everywhere and leaders worldwide were brought down. Millions of lives were lost and those left when the dust settled wondered how long it would be until it all happened again.
Charismatic leaders of science and technology stepped in with a way that could end mankind's destructive cycle. Corporations, sensing opportunity, funded research that promised to put a stop to the violent tendencies of mankind. This was done in exchange for information vital to increasing their profit margins. They promised peace, as long as everyone was willing to part with their privacy. Most were still shell shocked enough from the recent atrocities that they readily agreed if it meant an end to crime and war. Corporations swayed dissenters by offering discounts on their products. Part with your privacy and save a dollar. With this logic in mind, a permanent solution was made to better manage a potentially volatile populace.
Everyone that had supported this new endeavor received free of charge exciting new cybernetic enhancements. People were opened up and chips and circuits were added to brain matter and optic nerves. Glasses were no longer needed and cancer and diseases were detected early enough to stop it almost every time. Other benefits were promised down the road but mainly safety was touted as the main reason everyone should get on board. Every person was essentially a camera. If you committed a crime, there were witnesses, you could be tracked. You would be found and stopped, usually permanently. Crime was now almost impossible to get away with, which drastically improved morale.
A surgery was required but the outward affects were completely hidden to the naked eye except for one piece that was purposeless left exposed. At the center of the neck, a flat square that looked like glass poked out of the skin. From it, a dull, red light could be seen. It was only a square inch but it was always on, sending a constant signal. The excuse for it being visible was that it would decrease possible interference that might have occurred if it resided inside the body. But the real reason was for authorities to be able to judge at a glance if you were a part of the new regime that was dedicated to a peaceful existence.
The new scientific solution for peace came to be known as Peace of Mind, or POM for short. Corporations gave discounts for food, utilities, fuel, everything they could for those who adopted POM early on. For everyone else, the prices went up, driving more and more to receive what was becoming a necessity. But what really silenced the naysayers was the swift drop in crime. The one thing POM did well was remind people that someone could be watching them anytime. It was always there, always watching. Every crime as soon as it was reported, no matter how big or small, was dealt with by the authorities and punishments were quick and severe. Lawyers became irrelevant, as did juries and courthouses. The evidence was always right there, impossible to refute.
After five years, POM became mandatory for every citizen eighteen and older. This was argued by many, but the statistics did not lie and the advantages seemed to outweigh the disadvantages. It was helping bring lasting peace to a fragmented society, and since privacy did not matter to most anymore, it became illegal to not have a red light visible on the back of your neck. Those that wanted peace had won. The corporations that wanted to know everything about everybody at all times were the real winners though, and they vowed to keep the population happy and tranquil as long as they bought their products.
Many would be anarchists tried to hack their POM or someone helpful volunteer, either through POM's wireless network, or by dissecting the cybernetics themselves and rewiring them. The network had thus far been a dead end. Those that were opened up and explored were also a dead end but in the physical sense that the test subjects were no longer alive anymore. All attempts to put the cybernetics back in place and sew up the human guinea pig failed spectacularly and always lead to the arrest and punishment of the person who tried.
A breach was bound to happen eventually. What was surprising was that it's security held out for almost ten years, which seems like forever with advances in technology. At least, it used to, but that progress had slowed, even halted for a time during the uprisings. Now a new century was right around the corner, and there still weren't flying cars or artificial intelligence. It was almost the same as it had been at the beginning of the 21st century as it had been at the end of it. But now the world had POM, creating exciting new advancements in technology to get them back on track. Peace was here, peace that could last. At least until one disgruntled eighteen year old with some lines of code threatened to put the world's potential utopia at risk.
All that had been learned about POM's system and enhancements was posted on the web if you knew where to look, but after five years of failure, most had given up. But Adam Holland was either too young or too foolish to care about the short comings of those before him. As his eighteenth birthday had approached, he became more and more obsessed with the thought of hacking that which everyone said was impossible. He constantly reviewed the message boards of those that had tried, both in POM's network, and the cyber ware inside the minds that had been opened up.
Adam had dedicated his life to hacking and had gotten very good at it. He knew every time he did he was breaking the law and now that his POM had been surgically installed a week ago on his eighteenth birthday, he knew that from then on there was a record of it. He also knew that it was like getting audited by the internal revenue service. Chances were always good nobody was monitoring you, unless a crime had been committed by or near you, then everyone in the surrounding area had their recent histories played back remotely.
So Adam kept to himself in his room, away from any excitement and far from anything that could even resemble the appearance of illegal. He still lived with his parents. He had few friends and had graduated school early so there he was, day in and day out, committing crime on his computer at locations far away that could not be easily traced back to him.
What Adam was most proud of were the programs he had written himself. The one he had been working on the longest was the one he hoped would thwart POM itself. He called it Mind Hack and if it worked the way he hoped it would, it would grant him access to every part of POM, enabling him to hide or delete his presence completely from the powers that be. Mind Hack would not attack POM directly, or try to sneak in a back way, like most had before him. Rather, his program appeared to be a part of their system and only worked because Adam was newly registered in their servers, which gave it an opportunity to enter through the front door.
Adam knew this was a part of POM's controlling, money making process. New members had one opportunity for two week's to log in to POM and try to let it know everything about them that it didn't yet know. It already knew a great deal, but they always wanted more. Since minors couldn't be officially tracked until they were eighteen, this information willingly volunteered helped them to catch up on their new members. Each new fact learned provided a future discount for various goods and services. When you logged out, you were then locked out forever.
The log in did not get anyone very far into POM's system, but it got Adam far enough. With his program launched, he found he had access to, well, he wasn't sure. He was fairly certain know one had been this deep into POM before because he didn't recognize what he was seeing on any of the websites he had visited to prepare for this moment.
Actually he did recognize some of it. Names, hundreds of them, positioned around a localized map of his town. He tried to zoom out, but he could only see his town. He zoomed in and found he could zero in on neighborhoods, and then individual houses. Everyone that had cyber implants installed showed up as a name and a solid red dot on his computer screen.
Adam wasn't entirely sure how his program was interacting now with POM. He had wanted it to access everything but it just appeared to be localized. He didn't need everyone's names, but, since they were there, he decided to see what he could see. First he found his own name, he pressed the dot next to it and felt a jolt in his head.
Adam felt like electricity was coursing through his brain now. It didn't hurt, but was uncomfortable. He felt the back of his neck for his signal square because that area suddenly felt hot. His finger explored the small smooth surface. Despite feeling warm, it seemed normal. Trying not to be silly but being a little paranoid, he wanted to see it to be sure. It seemed silly, but it was the only external part of the implants he could see. He took a picture with his phone. The red light from the signal wasn't there. Adam knew this was either really good or really bad news. POM might notice a missing signal, or maybe he was suddenly just off the grid. On a whim, he took a video of the back of his neck. To his astonishment, the signal on his neck was blinking on and off, red to nothing, as if it were intermittently transmitting, or transmitting in a different way than before.
Adam blinked and thought about exercising caution. He should log out. Mind Hack should still grant him access to POM later. He could study how his program was affecting POM's systems and then log back in when he was sure it was safe to do so. But first, he wanted to test out one thing. Being off the grid was definitely the goal, but being able to log in and see what everyone else was doing, to spy on friends and neighbors and enemies, that was a definite bonus. And he had someone in mind, Candace Porter.
Adam hadn't seen Candace in years, but knew she lived only a few miles from him. She had been his babysitter when he was younger and he had had a huge crush on her. She had treated him like a child though, which he had thoroughly resented since there was only a five year gap between them. Adam had been eleven the last time he had seen her. After that, his parents felt he no longer needed a babysitter, something he was grateful for, but disappointed in since Candace would no longer be around. He stalked her on social media and knew she had gotten married shortly after her graduation and had a kid now. But seeing family pictures was not enough for Adam, not when he had POM to see through someone else's technologically advanced eyes. He scrolled through the digital map of neighborhoods and found Candace's house. She and her husband, Mark apparently, although he didn't really care, were both home.
Adam reasoned that the best way to look at her would be from another perspective, so he clicked on Mark's name. A message popped up from his Mind Hack program that had been running in the background. It read, "Connected. Do you want to send? Yes/No?" Adam's program was doing its job and giving him access to POM's internal systems. He just hoped it was working the right way and managing to go undetected. He typed Yes and hit Enter.
Adam felt a surge in his brain that was beyond uncomfortable and downright painful. Why had that happened? He was trying to see what Mark was seeing through his eyes onto his computer, but Adam's brain had paid the price. A new message popped up. "Access denied. Signal incompatible." Had he already been discovered? Was his program not working properly? Adam was frustrated by the denial, and again felt that wisdom dictated that he log out now and examine what was happening. But he had come this far, he would try once more, this time trying Candace herself. He clicked on her red dot on his screen. The same message popped up. "Connected. Do you want to send? Yes/No?" His fingers hesitated over the keyboard, then frantically typed in Yes and hit Enter.
For reasons unknown to Adam, there was a surge in his brain as his implants seemed to come to life. He saw a message on the screen. "Access granted. Sending..." Adam had a hopeful second as he eagerly anticipated images of what Candace was seeing right now projected onto his computer screen. Then his vision blurred, he felt very wrong, and then his limbs went slack and his face fell forward as his consciousness vacated the premises.
An instant later, a few miles away, Candace Porter was sitting in a chair, watching the television as her two year old son played with toys in her peripheral vision. Unaware to her, the signal square on the back of her neck started blinking as it began to receive something new. Her brow furrowed as her head suddenly tingled, and then everything faded to black as her body fell back against the chair.
A few seconds later, her eyes flew open and her body gasped as if she had been holding her breath underwater and hadn't tasted air for minutes. Candace looked around, confusion flooding her face. Her hands went up to the blonde strands of hair she could see out of the corner of her eye. She pulled it, hard until a piece of hair came out. "Ouch!" a voice yelled. But it was not the voice of Candace Porter, but the more masculine voice of Adam Holland. "How is this happening? Where am I?" Adam heard a child laugh close by. He turned Candace's head and saw a small boy, pointing and laughing at him.
"Mommy sound funny!" the boy said between fits of laughter.
"I'm not your mother, kid," Adam said shakily in his deep alto. This caused another fit of laughter from the boy. Adam heard footsteps coming from the next room and then a man entered. It was Mark Porter. He recognized him from Candace's pictures online. But that would mean... Adam's hands shot to his chest which he realized was noticeably heavier. As Mark picked up the child, Adam discovered soft, sensitive mounds attached to the body he was in. "Holy crap, I think I'm Candace," Adam whispered.
"What game are you playing with him in here that has him so worked up?" Mark asked smiling. "We're not supposed to get him all worked up right before nap, remember? Honey? Babe? You okay?"
Adam slowly realized Mark was speaking to him. He scrunched up the face to look attentive, and then nodded seriously.
Mark laughed and addressed the boy as he picked him up. "Is this part of Mommy's game? Seeing how weird she can be? Well you can play some more after nap." Mark started to move out of the room with his son but then stopped to speak in Adam's direction once more. "Candy, why don't you go to the bedroom, we should have an hour before he wakes up and maybe you can take a nap. I know you're really tired." And then Mark was gone.
Adam just sat for a moment. He was Candace. How had this happened? Somehow, his program must have altered his signal. It wasn't transmitting to POM, showing them what he saw, what he bought, what he was up to. Rather, it was streaming his consciousness into another person, his hot, former babysitter. He needed a mirror. Adam temporarily pushed away the terrible dilemma he might be in for the perverted prospect of seeing Candace without any clothes on. He stood up, took a step, and immediately crashed to the hardwood floor. He caught himself with his hands, minimizing the damage, but still felt like Candace would have a couple bruises from that sudden landing. He slowly got to his feet, more cautious this time. He took a timid but purposeful step and realized his whole sense of balance was off. Adam's consciousness was in Candace's body, but he was not programmed for her height, her walk, and her voice for that matter. Adam wondered if that could be changed as he checked the doors of the house until he found what must be their master bedroom.
He was gradually getting the hang of her body as he strode towards a large mirror attached to their bedroom wall. He reasoned she must use it to check out what she would wear. Today, he would use it to check out what she wasn't. He saw that she was wearing a loose fitting white t-shirt that hid her large bust and grey sweatpants that did nothing to reveal the cute butt she had to be proud of. Her blonde hair was shorter than he remembered it being, only coming down to her shoulders. It looked like it needed brushing. Adam looked closer at her face. It was still the same cute visage he fantasized about, but, he thought he saw bags under her eyes. She currently had the appearance of a young harried mom who probably needed to be treated to a night out on the town and then allowed to catch up on some sleep. He put those observations aside, remembering that he needed to make the most of this situation since he probably wouldn't be here again, assuming he could reverse the process. That thought lingered for a moment as he wondered how and if that were possible. He'd need to gain access to his computer and see what options there were. It should be as simple as canceling his signal.
While thinking he had let his hands begin to wonder. When they found the area that he was so accustomed to finding a penis, all other thoughts vanished. He rubbed the area gently over the sweatpants, then harder as a pleasant sensation started to grow. He made Candace's face contort to that of lust as she licked her lips. Since he hopefully would not be here again, he'd put on a show for himself. He began to slowly spin around as he lifted the t-shirt over her head, posing for the mirror sensuously as he threw the t-shirt aside, revealing two large breasts. She had lost the baby weight it seemed in every area except for there. They were bigger than what he had seen in pictures, and seemed too good to be true. He wasted no time and began groping them furiously, watching in the mirror as her hands pinched a nipple or caressed their soft sides and then lifting them up and dropping them to watch them bounce. He made a brief attempt to talk sexy to Candace's reflection in the mirror, but it didn't do much for him since it was his deep voice that came out.
Adam took a quick break from squeezing her breasts so he could quickly pull down her sweat pants. She wore white cotton panties underneath and he removed them just as fast. Candace was not managing her business down there as curly hair completely covered her pussy. Adam presumed this was probably because of her hectic parenting lifestyle, new mom and all that, or maybe it was what her husband was in to. Either way, he didn't care as one hand slid down, finding moisture under the bush, and the other hand finding a breast again. The sensations were so overwhelmingly pleasant and erotic that he found he was unable to stand. He fell back onto the large, soft bed. He kept one leg touching the floor and the other stretched out giving him plenty of room to let her fingers explore her nether region. Adam had become so swept up in the erotic new feelings and that fact that he had access to a body he had wanted for so long that he did not notice Mark walk into the bedroom.
Mark couldn't believe what he was seeing. He and Candace had been hot and heavy for the first couple years of their marriage. They were both young and had healthy libidos until their son, Austin, came along. Then it had all stopped.
They had done all sorts of kinky things before she gave birth, afterwards, she never seemed into it. When they did have sex, he felt like she was really just doing it to shut him up. But what he was seeing now was, well, the hottest thing he had ever seen his wife do. His eyes roamed up and down her naked body, watching her get herself off as if she was touching her erogenous zones for the first time. She was really enjoying herself as she fingered her lower lips. She seemed to alternate between brushing her fingers lightly against her clitoris, then pushing two fingers inside her, and then back again. It was as if she couldn't decide what felt best. All the while her other hand swapped back and forth between each breast, fondling each with increasing passion.
The erection in Mark's pants was painful as he quietly undressed. He didn't know why, but he felt like if he called out or made a noise, it would break whatever erotic spell had been woven and the erotic atmosphere would break. But he was being silly. She was just getting her groove back. She had to have known he'd be coming in here after putting Austin to nap. She must be performing for him, trying her best to get him harder than he'd been in a long while. Well it was working and he leaned forward and put his mouth to the breast her hand was not groping, being sure to avoid her nipple. The instant his lips made contact with the soft skin, he heard a low moan, much lower than usual. A split second later his wife's boob disappeared from his mouth as she had pushed back from him so forcefully that she almost flew off the other side of the bed.
Adam felt Candace's body had been very close to orgasm when an additional touch had registered, warm, wet, and welcome on the side of the slightly larger breast. He had not been able to keep from letting out a sound of appreciative lust, when the obvious dawned on him. Candace's eyes flew open and Adam saw Mark sucking on a breast. He reacted before thinking at the sight of a man hovering over his temporary body and flung himself back with his hands, trying to get away. He felt empty space below his head and was grateful he hadn't fallen to the floor. But now there was a man looking at him with a disturbing hunger in his eyes, and Adam was sprawled before him, Candace's pussy inches from his face.
In a flash, Adam mulled over his predicament. Mark wanted to fuck him, or her really, that much was obvious. Adam was not a fan of that at all, as he had never had any sexual predilections towards his own gender. He could put a stop to it by explaining the situation. Not a great option as he was in clear violation of several laws and probably many new ones they would have to create. He would no doubt face a severe punishment or probably the death penalty. He could bolt from the room but this body was naked and if he went outside like that, it would also be a crime and authorities would be alerted and everyone's POM's would be scanned in a square block and then he'd be found out that way. He couldn't say he had a headache or didn't want this, because for one, as soon as Candace spoke and Adam's voice came out, the jig was up. And two, he had just been masturbating furiously and was clearly very turned on. It was suddenly curious to him why it was his voice in her body. This would seem to indicate that the cyber enhancements were put in more than just the brain, which is something POM had not released to the public.
Adam forgot to be curious as Mark's tongue slipped into his wife's hairy bush and licked with the fervor of a man dying of thirst and this pussy was the last place to find water. Adam accepted his fate as the pleasure racked Candace's body again, different and more intense than before as this was clearly not Mark's first rodeo. Mark's strong hands went underneath Candace's body and he gently lifted her and positioned her against the headboard, all the while continuing the cunnilingus he was so adept at performing. Adam strained not to make a sound as the body he was in control of writhed in delight of Mark's oral dedication. Adam threw both hands over Candace's mouth to stifle a scream as he came in his temporary feminine form.
Mark felt his wife's legs tense up and knew he had given her something to remember. He smiled at her but then looked puzzled. "Is this a game you're playing with me? Not making any noise?" His wife looked at him quizzically, still coming down from her sexual high, and then gave a slow nod. He found this odd, and a little kinky. "Do I win if I make you scream?"
Her face registered panic at this and she shook her head profusely. Mark was confused at that response and started to climb towards her body, her legs open wide before him. With a playful smile, he asked, "So, you don't want me to make you scream?" She nodded. "Okay, you just don't want to make any sounds, is that right?"
Candace smiled at him brightly, as if he had answered correctly in a game of charades. Her smile quickly faltered however, as he positioned himself in front of her, the pushed his cock at the entrance of her sopping wet snatch. He looked down and with one hand, he moved the tip of his penis up and down her slit, not letting it go in, knowing it was having an effect on his wife by the way her hands clenched beside him. He looked up and saw the expression on his wife's face seemed to be a mix of surprise, uncertainty, and lust. Whatever was going on with his wife, he was going to take full advantage of it. He gave his hips a thrust and the entire length of his dick disappeared into his wife's slick and inviting hole.
Mark was in ecstasy by the sudden warmth that enveloped his cock. He always loved the moments he got to be inside his wife and it had been so long. He was sure that ramming his member balls deep into her would have surely elicited some sound from her sexy, open mouth, but all that escaped was a gasp of air followed by rapid breathing. He smiled at this. She was acting like she had never been fucked before and was still refusing to make any noise. He slowly withdrew, taking in every bit of her expression. As his penis exposed itself to air once again, he saw that she actually looked disappointed. She looked down at his cock and acted like it was completely alien to her, but something that she wanted more of. Candace's eyes then met his and she looked imploringly at him. She hesitantly put both her hands around to his backside and started to draw him back into her. That was all it took for him to plunge back in, seeing the same gasp come out of her mouth and again, a look of surprise as if she had never felt anything better.
Mark started to withdraw again but her hands found his ass and she started to push him back in, even further this time. He knew what she wanted now and he began to pound her pussy. He steadied himself with one hand, letting the other travel down her leg. It was bumpy with stubble but he did not care. This was his wife, the woman he had married and to him she was sexy as hell. His hand traveled back up to her stomach and he felt her goose bumps underneath his fingers. She didn't like it when he touched her there since giving birth, as it still showed signs of stretch marks, something she was very self conscious of. She said nothing though, either because of whatever game she was playing or because she was too lost in the feeling of his dick slamming in and out of her, faster and faster. Mark wasn't in the best shape of his life, but he was still young enough to have fairly decent stamina, and he wanted to make the most of this.
Mark's hand found his wife's breasts and he squeezed them each firmly, one at a time, knowing that before getting pregnant, she really liked it when he'd be rough with them. They had become off limits as he watched them swell up and become increasingly tender. She had not allowed him to suck on the nipples anymore because they were now for their child. Since then he had treated them much more carefully but now, now he decided to press his luck. After grabbing them quite harder than normal and seeing no signs of discomfort from her, he lowered his mouth and began to suck on her tit. He thought he heard a low sound escape her mouth, but paid no attention as her hands squeezed his ass and pulled, thrusting him inward. The message to him was clear, she wanted him to go faster, so he gave her what she wanted.
Adam was no longer conflicted at being penetrated by this man. It felt too good to stop and he continued to encourage Mark to thrust harder by moving underneath him and grabbing at his backside. Adam's breathing was loud, as if he was running a marathon, but he kept his voice in check. He wasn't sure he'd be able to for much longer however, as he felt this body ascending to the top of the mountain once more. He noticed Mark was making a weird face, contorting in what seemed like a happy grimace. Suddenly Adam felt the penis inside him pulsing and warmth flooded into his new crotch. A moment later, Adam experience another orgasm and wondered how women were ever able to get anything done. Then Mark collapsed like a dead wait next to him, panting and happy.
Mark hoped this was not a one time event. He draped an arm around his bride and pulled her closer, kissing her cheek. "I love you babe. If you ever want to play that game again, just let me know."
Adam panicked as the afterglow began to fade. He needed an excuse to leave the house and get back to his own. He needn't have worried about having an excuse though, as Mark began snoring next to him a minute later. Adam maneuvered out from under Mark's arm, then began dressing as he formulated how he could make a plausible exit from this body and raise the least amount of suspicion. It was very possible the authorities knew he had hacked someone's mind and they were already on their way. It was also possible nothing like this had ever happened before and they had no idea what was going on. Either way, he needed to cancel his stream of consciousness to Candace's cyber brain implants and try to cover up his tracks.
Adam had time to think about what those tracks were as he struggled with the bra. He was a computer genius, but bra technology was beyond him. At last he figured it out the clasp, put on the rest of her previous attire, and went to their bathroom. He found her prescription medication, looking for something he could use. There was one to treat insomnia that should do nicely. He opened it and left it on the bathroom counter. He went to their kitchen and searched for alcohol. He found they had a bottle of wine and poured some into a glass. He took a little sip to get the taste in her mouth, making sure to leave a tiny bit in the glass, then put it where he had been sitting when he first found himself transported here. He was not at all sure if this would work, but he had to paint a picture for Candace when she was herself again.
Adam found car keys hanging on a hook and went outside to find a minivan. He hopped in and drove the short distance to his house. His parents were both at work, which was a huge plus. The door wasn't locked, something people rarely did now with the crime rate hovering just above zero. He went upstairs to his room, opened the door, and there he was, passed out with his face next to the keyboard. It was beyond surreal. He approached the computer screen and saw that he was still logged into POM and that his program was still running, still sending his signal. Adam hoped that when he undid this, that his body would be the one to come to first. He propped his body up in the chair and spun it towards his bed. He took his wireless keyboard and positioned Candace's body horizontally onto his bed, still close enough to see the computer screen. He selected Connected on the screen and options popped up. "End Connection. Y/N?" He typed Yes, and hit Enter. A few seconds later, his vision blurred, and darkness.
Adam jolted upright in his chair causing the wheels underneath him to creak. He looked at Candace lying on his bed and saw her start to stir. He grabbed the keyboard from her lap and hoped that she had not been aware during the time he had been in control of her body. He also hoped that she would buy what was sounding like a crazy story that seemed crazier the more he thought about it, but it was all he had. He watched as her eyes fluttered, looked around very confused, then sat bolt upright to look at him.
"What? Where am I? How'd I get here?"
Adam took a deep breath, moment of truth. With concern in his voice, he said, "Mrs. Porter, oh I'm so glad you're alright."
Candace focused on Adam, then recognition kicked in. "Adam? What's going on? Am I in your bedroom?"
She was starting to look like a cornered animal and Adam spoke quickly. "You're okay. I guess you don't remember. You drove into my neighborhood a few minutes ago and almost ran me over. You stopped and apologized and, well, you weren't making a whole lot of sense. You said something about you had been tired so you took some medicine for sleeping and had some wine. You mentioned, um..." Adam felt his cheeks burn hot. "You said something about getting intimate with your husband, but in different words. Then after you wanted something to eat and got in your van and then almost ran me over. You told me all that and then passed out and I took you inside and now you're awake. I was about to call an ambulance for you. Do you still want me to, or do you feel better now?" He waited, gauging her response.
Candace couldn't remember any of what Adam just said. She had been watching television while her son played beside her. She had been sleepy but, she was always sleepy these days. Had she taken something? She couldn't remember but, she did have the taste of wine in her mouth, and she could feel a soreness like she had been well fucked recently. Adam must be telling the truth. He had been a good kid mostly, why would he lie.
"Mrs. Porter," Adam asked again, "shall I call someone for you? An ambulance, or maybe the authorities?"
"No!" Candace yelled, then calmed herself. "Um, no please Adam. You know what they do to people who drink and drive these days. I can't believe I did something so foolish. I must have blacked out and, thank goodness I didn't kill you! I'm so sorry! And then for you to bring me into your home and look out for me. I owe you Adam."
Adam reigned in the smile that was pushing vehemently at the corners of his mouth. "Absolutely not, Mrs. Porter. You were the best babysitter I ever had when I was younger and I'm just happy I could repay the favor and watch out for you for once."
"Still, you're amazing. And, um, you'll keep this between us?" she asked with a hopeful smile as she stood up, ready to leave.
Now Adam allowed himself to beam. "I will never tell a soul, Mrs. Porter. I would hate for you to get in any kind of trouble."
Candace approached Adam, and saw as he stood that he was now taller than she was. She put her arms around him and pulled him into a hug. "Thank you Adam. I really mean that."
Adam returned the hug, fully aware of her chest pushing into him. That had been his chest moments ago, beyond surreal. His body began to respond at these thoughts and he broke off the hug. "No problem, Mrs. Porter. Happy to help. Here, I'll walk you back to your van."
Adam watched from his driveway as she drove away, then ran back upstairs. He quickly logged off from POM. He should have no problem accessing it now with his program, but it would all be moot if one of several things had gone wrong for him. It was possible, but unlikely, that they had traced his digital interfering back to his computer. It was much more likely that they had noticed his signal was missing, or that it had jumped a few miles away, or that Candace's signal had disappeared altogether. He didn't know how all that worked, but if he wasn't busted within a few hours, he should be in the clear. The one thing he knew he had going for him was that thus far, a crime had not been committed in their area, or at least one that anyone knew about, and so any signal interruption might just blow over.
If he was still here tomorrow, he would try to go deeper into POM and find out about the cyber implants they all possessed. They were clearly more extensive than he knew. If he could access them, maybe he could help himself by keeping the host's voice. Was he really thinking of doing this again? He remembered how it had felt to be in Candace's body. If he hadn't already been caught, he was definitely doing this again, but he would be more prepared next time. The hard part would be the next few hours, waiting to see if someone was coming for him.
Many miles away, in a large building that staffed more computers than personnel, information was pouring in, a constant geyser of consumer data that burst forth in a never ending torrent. Crime had continued its downward trend, but there was loads of other, much more valuable things to go over, such as, where was the money being spent and how could the corporate overlords get more of it?
One analyst had gone over as much data as he could in one shift. Now he compiled his daily end of shift report and highlighted areas of concern for his supervisor. Instead of sending the information electronically, he actually took the time to print this report, as he wanted to hand it off in person. He knocked on his supervisor's open door to announce his presence.
"Got the numbers boss. Printed mine out because I thought you might want to see something interesting?"
"Put it next to this stack," the boss motioned at a leaning pile of paperwork. "Something caught your eye did it? I don't remember any crime being reported in your area?"
"There wasn't but, well, something weird happened. A signal stopped."
The boss didn't look up at this but continued looking at official documents that appeared to need his undivided attention. "Signals stop all the time. Happens when people die. That's hardly interesting or weird, just a fact of life."
The analyst knew this. Each time a person died it was flagged as a signal interruption. If a crime was reported in the area, those cases were investigated immediately and the perpetrator caught quickly. If there was no crime, and there hardly was anymore, it was investigated as time allowed, often times getting backlogged for days. When someone got to it, it was usually a death due to natural causes. If the person was alive, which was almost never the case, they were brought in, opened up, whatever issue fixed with their cyber ware, and then sent home the next day. But this issue was much different than death or a faulty signal.
"I'd agree boss, but this signal stopped, then resumed a few miles away, where another signal stopped, but did not resume."
The boss stopped looking at his paperwork. "What? That shouldn't...did you monitor remotely? I don't remember a request for that one and feel like I'd definitely remember a scenario like that."
"I didn't request a remote viewing because by the time I noticed anything suspicious, both signals were back. The first signal returned to its point of origin, then the second signal resumed and, well, that's it."
The boss mulled this over. They were only allowed to ever remote view if a crime had been committed in the reported area. When the technology had come available at first, many within POM had taken advantage of the situation and let it become their own private peep show. Swift action had been taken and the perverts had been removed. Spying on the general public with POM's technology was a serious crime, and each staff member's visual records were examined daily to ensure this kind of illicit surveillance was not happening.
The boss made a decision. "Okay, so if both signals are back, that had to be a glitch or something. If there was no crime involved, we do nothing for now. Flag both their signals and if it happens again, we'll bring them in and fix whatever's wrong."
The analyst nodded and left. He stopped by his computer and flagged the two troublesome dots. If anything else funny happened, they'd know immediately.
To be continued...
Author's note: This story is connected to the Shudder universe. You do not have to read Shudder first to understand it, but it will help you appreciate some of the characters you'll meet along the way.
In the near future, it wasn't a third world war that threatened to end humanity. It was the internal violence and unrest within each country that almost lead to the extinction of mankind. The state of the world under the control of increasingly corrupt politicians and dictators had led to the forming of a few peaceful protests. Those few had become dozens and then hundreds and thousands and the word peaceful was soon abandoned. Civil wars sprang up everywhere and leaders worldwide were brought down. Millions of lives were lost and those left when the dust settled wondered how long it would be until it all happened again.
Charismatic leaders of science and technology stepped in with a way that could end mankind's destructive cycle. Corporations, sensing opportunity, funded research that promised to put a stop to the violent tendencies of mankind. This was done in exchange for information vital to increasing their profit margins. They promised peace, as long as everyone was willing to part with their privacy. Most were still shell shocked enough from the recent atrocities that they readily agreed if it meant an end to crime and war. Corporations swayed dissenters by offering discounts on their products. Part with your privacy and save a dollar. With this logic in mind, a permanent solution was made to better manage a potentially volatile populace.
Everyone that had supported this new endeavor received free of charge exciting new cybernetic enhancements. People were opened up and chips and circuits were added to brain matter and optic nerves. Glasses were no longer needed and cancer and diseases were detected early enough to stop it almost every time. Other benefits were promised down the road but mainly safety was touted as the main reason everyone should get on board. Every person was essentially a camera. If you committed a crime, there were witnesses, you could be tracked. You would be found and stopped, usually permanently. Crime was now almost impossible to get away with, which drastically improved morale.
A surgery was required but the outward affects were completely hidden to the naked eye except for one piece that was purposeless left exposed. At the center of the neck, a flat square that looked like glass poked out of the skin. From it, a dull, red light could be seen. It was only a square inch but it was always on, sending a constant signal. The excuse for it being visible was that it would decrease possible interference that might have occurred if it resided inside the body. But the real reason was for authorities to be able to judge at a glance if you were a part of the new regime that was dedicated to a peaceful existence.
The new scientific solution for peace came to be known as Peace of Mind, or POM for short. Corporations gave discounts for food, utilities, fuel, everything they could for those who adopted POM early on. For everyone else, the prices went up, driving more and more to receive what was becoming a necessity. But what really silenced the naysayers was the swift drop in crime. The one thing POM did well was remind people that someone could be watching them anytime. It was always there, always watching. Every crime as soon as it was reported, no matter how big or small, was dealt with by the authorities and punishments were quick and severe. Lawyers became irrelevant, as did juries and courthouses. The evidence was always right there, impossible to refute.
After five years, POM became mandatory for every citizen eighteen and older. This was argued by many, but the statistics did not lie and the advantages seemed to outweigh the disadvantages. It was helping bring lasting peace to a fragmented society, and since privacy did not matter to most anymore, it became illegal to not have a red light visible on the back of your neck. Those that wanted peace had won. The corporations that wanted to know everything about everybody at all times were the real winners though, and they vowed to keep the population happy and tranquil as long as they bought their products.
Many would be anarchists tried to hack their POM or someone helpful volunteer, either through POM's wireless network, or by dissecting the cybernetics themselves and rewiring them. The network had thus far been a dead end. Those that were opened up and explored were also a dead end but in the physical sense that the test subjects were no longer alive anymore. All attempts to put the cybernetics back in place and sew up the human guinea pig failed spectacularly and always lead to the arrest and punishment of the person who tried.
A breach was bound to happen eventually. What was surprising was that it's security held out for almost ten years, which seems like forever with advances in technology. At least, it used to, but that progress had slowed, even halted for a time during the uprisings. Now a new century was right around the corner, and there still weren't flying cars or artificial intelligence. It was almost the same as it had been at the beginning of the 21st century as it had been at the end of it. But now the world had POM, creating exciting new advancements in technology to get them back on track. Peace was here, peace that could last. At least until one disgruntled eighteen year old with some lines of code threatened to put the world's potential utopia at risk.
All that had been learned about POM's system and enhancements was posted on the web if you knew where to look, but after five years of failure, most had given up. But Adam Holland was either too young or too foolish to care about the short comings of those before him. As his eighteenth birthday had approached, he became more and more obsessed with the thought of hacking that which everyone said was impossible. He constantly reviewed the message boards of those that had tried, both in POM's network, and the cyber ware inside the minds that had been opened up.
Adam had dedicated his life to hacking and had gotten very good at it. He knew every time he did he was breaking the law and now that his POM had been surgically installed a week ago on his eighteenth birthday, he knew that from then on there was a record of it. He also knew that it was like getting audited by the internal revenue service. Chances were always good nobody was monitoring you, unless a crime had been committed by or near you, then everyone in the surrounding area had their recent histories played back remotely.
So Adam kept to himself in his room, away from any excitement and far from anything that could even resemble the appearance of illegal. He still lived with his parents. He had few friends and had graduated school early so there he was, day in and day out, committing crime on his computer at locations far away that could not be easily traced back to him.
What Adam was most proud of were the programs he had written himself. The one he had been working on the longest was the one he hoped would thwart POM itself. He called it Mind Hack and if it worked the way he hoped it would, it would grant him access to every part of POM, enabling him to hide or delete his presence completely from the powers that be. Mind Hack would not attack POM directly, or try to sneak in a back way, like most had before him. Rather, his program appeared to be a part of their system and only worked because Adam was newly registered in their servers, which gave it an opportunity to enter through the front door.
Adam knew this was a part of POM's controlling, money making process. New members had one opportunity for two week's to log in to POM and try to let it know everything about them that it didn't yet know. It already knew a great deal, but they always wanted more. Since minors couldn't be officially tracked until they were eighteen, this information willingly volunteered helped them to catch up on their new members. Each new fact learned provided a future discount for various goods and services. When you logged out, you were then locked out forever.
The log in did not get anyone very far into POM's system, but it got Adam far enough. With his program launched, he found he had access to, well, he wasn't sure. He was fairly certain know one had been this deep into POM before because he didn't recognize what he was seeing on any of the websites he had visited to prepare for this moment.
Actually he did recognize some of it. Names, hundreds of them, positioned around a localized map of his town. He tried to zoom out, but he could only see his town. He zoomed in and found he could zero in on neighborhoods, and then individual houses. Everyone that had cyber implants installed showed up as a name and a solid red dot on his computer screen.
Adam wasn't entirely sure how his program was interacting now with POM. He had wanted it to access everything but it just appeared to be localized. He didn't need everyone's names, but, since they were there, he decided to see what he could see. First he found his own name, he pressed the dot next to it and felt a jolt in his head.
Adam felt like electricity was coursing through his brain now. It didn't hurt, but was uncomfortable. He felt the back of his neck for his signal square because that area suddenly felt hot. His finger explored the small smooth surface. Despite feeling warm, it seemed normal. Trying not to be silly but being a little paranoid, he wanted to see it to be sure. It seemed silly, but it was the only external part of the implants he could see. He took a picture with his phone. The red light from the signal wasn't there. Adam knew this was either really good or really bad news. POM might notice a missing signal, or maybe he was suddenly just off the grid. On a whim, he took a video of the back of his neck. To his astonishment, the signal on his neck was blinking on and off, red to nothing, as if it were intermittently transmitting, or transmitting in a different way than before.
Adam blinked and thought about exercising caution. He should log out. Mind Hack should still grant him access to POM later. He could study how his program was affecting POM's systems and then log back in when he was sure it was safe to do so. But first, he wanted to test out one thing. Being off the grid was definitely the goal, but being able to log in and see what everyone else was doing, to spy on friends and neighbors and enemies, that was a definite bonus. And he had someone in mind, Candace Porter.
Adam hadn't seen Candace in years, but knew she lived only a few miles from him. She had been his babysitter when he was younger and he had had a huge crush on her. She had treated him like a child though, which he had thoroughly resented since there was only a five year gap between them. Adam had been eleven the last time he had seen her. After that, his parents felt he no longer needed a babysitter, something he was grateful for, but disappointed in since Candace would no longer be around. He stalked her on social media and knew she had gotten married shortly after her graduation and had a kid now. But seeing family pictures was not enough for Adam, not when he had POM to see through someone else's technologically advanced eyes. He scrolled through the digital map of neighborhoods and found Candace's house. She and her husband, Mark apparently, although he didn't really care, were both home.
Adam reasoned that the best way to look at her would be from another perspective, so he clicked on Mark's name. A message popped up from his Mind Hack program that had been running in the background. It read, "Connected. Do you want to send? Yes/No?" Adam's program was doing its job and giving him access to POM's internal systems. He just hoped it was working the right way and managing to go undetected. He typed Yes and hit Enter.
Adam felt a surge in his brain that was beyond uncomfortable and downright painful. Why had that happened? He was trying to see what Mark was seeing through his eyes onto his computer, but Adam's brain had paid the price. A new message popped up. "Access denied. Signal incompatible." Had he already been discovered? Was his program not working properly? Adam was frustrated by the denial, and again felt that wisdom dictated that he log out now and examine what was happening. But he had come this far, he would try once more, this time trying Candace herself. He clicked on her red dot on his screen. The same message popped up. "Connected. Do you want to send? Yes/No?" His fingers hesitated over the keyboard, then frantically typed in Yes and hit Enter.
For reasons unknown to Adam, there was a surge in his brain as his implants seemed to come to life. He saw a message on the screen. "Access granted. Sending..." Adam had a hopeful second as he eagerly anticipated images of what Candace was seeing right now projected onto his computer screen. Then his vision blurred, he felt very wrong, and then his limbs went slack and his face fell forward as his consciousness vacated the premises.
An instant later, a few miles away, Candace Porter was sitting in a chair, watching the television as her two year old son played with toys in her peripheral vision. Unaware to her, the signal square on the back of her neck started blinking as it began to receive something new. Her brow furrowed as her head suddenly tingled, and then everything faded to black as her body fell back against the chair.
A few seconds later, her eyes flew open and her body gasped as if she had been holding her breath underwater and hadn't tasted air for minutes. Candace looked around, confusion flooding her face. Her hands went up to the blonde strands of hair she could see out of the corner of her eye. She pulled it, hard until a piece of hair came out. "Ouch!" a voice yelled. But it was not the voice of Candace Porter, but the more masculine voice of Adam Holland. "How is this happening? Where am I?" Adam heard a child laugh close by. He turned Candace's head and saw a small boy, pointing and laughing at him.
"Mommy sound funny!" the boy said between fits of laughter.
"I'm not your mother, kid," Adam said shakily in his deep alto. This caused another fit of laughter from the boy. Adam heard footsteps coming from the next room and then a man entered. It was Mark Porter. He recognized him from Candace's pictures online. But that would mean... Adam's hands shot to his chest which he realized was noticeably heavier. As Mark picked up the child, Adam discovered soft, sensitive mounds attached to the body he was in. "Holy crap, I think I'm Candace," Adam whispered.
"What game are you playing with him in here that has him so worked up?" Mark asked smiling. "We're not supposed to get him all worked up right before nap, remember? Honey? Babe? You okay?"
Adam slowly realized Mark was speaking to him. He scrunched up the face to look attentive, and then nodded seriously.
Mark laughed and addressed the boy as he picked him up. "Is this part of Mommy's game? Seeing how weird she can be? Well you can play some more after nap." Mark started to move out of the room with his son but then stopped to speak in Adam's direction once more. "Candy, why don't you go to the bedroom, we should have an hour before he wakes up and maybe you can take a nap. I know you're really tired." And then Mark was gone.
Adam just sat for a moment. He was Candace. How had this happened? Somehow, his program must have altered his signal. It wasn't transmitting to POM, showing them what he saw, what he bought, what he was up to. Rather, it was streaming his consciousness into another person, his hot, former babysitter. He needed a mirror. Adam temporarily pushed away the terrible dilemma he might be in for the perverted prospect of seeing Candace without any clothes on. He stood up, took a step, and immediately crashed to the hardwood floor. He caught himself with his hands, minimizing the damage, but still felt like Candace would have a couple bruises from that sudden landing. He slowly got to his feet, more cautious this time. He took a timid but purposeful step and realized his whole sense of balance was off. Adam's consciousness was in Candace's body, but he was not programmed for her height, her walk, and her voice for that matter. Adam wondered if that could be changed as he checked the doors of the house until he found what must be their master bedroom.
He was gradually getting the hang of her body as he strode towards a large mirror attached to their bedroom wall. He reasoned she must use it to check out what she would wear. Today, he would use it to check out what she wasn't. He saw that she was wearing a loose fitting white t-shirt that hid her large bust and grey sweatpants that did nothing to reveal the cute butt she had to be proud of. Her blonde hair was shorter than he remembered it being, only coming down to her shoulders. It looked like it needed brushing. Adam looked closer at her face. It was still the same cute visage he fantasized about, but, he thought he saw bags under her eyes. She currently had the appearance of a young harried mom who probably needed to be treated to a night out on the town and then allowed to catch up on some sleep. He put those observations aside, remembering that he needed to make the most of this situation since he probably wouldn't be here again, assuming he could reverse the process. That thought lingered for a moment as he wondered how and if that were possible. He'd need to gain access to his computer and see what options there were. It should be as simple as canceling his signal.
While thinking he had let his hands begin to wonder. When they found the area that he was so accustomed to finding a penis, all other thoughts vanished. He rubbed the area gently over the sweatpants, then harder as a pleasant sensation started to grow. He made Candace's face contort to that of lust as she licked her lips. Since he hopefully would not be here again, he'd put on a show for himself. He began to slowly spin around as he lifted the t-shirt over her head, posing for the mirror sensuously as he threw the t-shirt aside, revealing two large breasts. She had lost the baby weight it seemed in every area except for there. They were bigger than what he had seen in pictures, and seemed too good to be true. He wasted no time and began groping them furiously, watching in the mirror as her hands pinched a nipple or caressed their soft sides and then lifting them up and dropping them to watch them bounce. He made a brief attempt to talk sexy to Candace's reflection in the mirror, but it didn't do much for him since it was his deep voice that came out.
Adam took a quick break from squeezing her breasts so he could quickly pull down her sweat pants. She wore white cotton panties underneath and he removed them just as fast. Candace was not managing her business down there as curly hair completely covered her pussy. Adam presumed this was probably because of her hectic parenting lifestyle, new mom and all that, or maybe it was what her husband was in to. Either way, he didn't care as one hand slid down, finding moisture under the bush, and the other hand finding a breast again. The sensations were so overwhelmingly pleasant and erotic that he found he was unable to stand. He fell back onto the large, soft bed. He kept one leg touching the floor and the other stretched out giving him plenty of room to let her fingers explore her nether region. Adam had become so swept up in the erotic new feelings and that fact that he had access to a body he had wanted for so long that he did not notice Mark walk into the bedroom.
Mark couldn't believe what he was seeing. He and Candace had been hot and heavy for the first couple years of their marriage. They were both young and had healthy libidos until their son, Austin, came along. Then it had all stopped.
They had done all sorts of kinky things before she gave birth, afterwards, she never seemed into it. When they did have sex, he felt like she was really just doing it to shut him up. But what he was seeing now was, well, the hottest thing he had ever seen his wife do. His eyes roamed up and down her naked body, watching her get herself off as if she was touching her erogenous zones for the first time. She was really enjoying herself as she fingered her lower lips. She seemed to alternate between brushing her fingers lightly against her clitoris, then pushing two fingers inside her, and then back again. It was as if she couldn't decide what felt best. All the while her other hand swapped back and forth between each breast, fondling each with increasing passion.
The erection in Mark's pants was painful as he quietly undressed. He didn't know why, but he felt like if he called out or made a noise, it would break whatever erotic spell had been woven and the erotic atmosphere would break. But he was being silly. She was just getting her groove back. She had to have known he'd be coming in here after putting Austin to nap. She must be performing for him, trying her best to get him harder than he'd been in a long while. Well it was working and he leaned forward and put his mouth to the breast her hand was not groping, being sure to avoid her nipple. The instant his lips made contact with the soft skin, he heard a low moan, much lower than usual. A split second later his wife's boob disappeared from his mouth as she had pushed back from him so forcefully that she almost flew off the other side of the bed.
Adam felt Candace's body had been very close to orgasm when an additional touch had registered, warm, wet, and welcome on the side of the slightly larger breast. He had not been able to keep from letting out a sound of appreciative lust, when the obvious dawned on him. Candace's eyes flew open and Adam saw Mark sucking on a breast. He reacted before thinking at the sight of a man hovering over his temporary body and flung himself back with his hands, trying to get away. He felt empty space below his head and was grateful he hadn't fallen to the floor. But now there was a man looking at him with a disturbing hunger in his eyes, and Adam was sprawled before him, Candace's pussy inches from his face.
In a flash, Adam mulled over his predicament. Mark wanted to fuck him, or her really, that much was obvious. Adam was not a fan of that at all, as he had never had any sexual predilections towards his own gender. He could put a stop to it by explaining the situation. Not a great option as he was in clear violation of several laws and probably many new ones they would have to create. He would no doubt face a severe punishment or probably the death penalty. He could bolt from the room but this body was naked and if he went outside like that, it would also be a crime and authorities would be alerted and everyone's POM's would be scanned in a square block and then he'd be found out that way. He couldn't say he had a headache or didn't want this, because for one, as soon as Candace spoke and Adam's voice came out, the jig was up. And two, he had just been masturbating furiously and was clearly very turned on. It was suddenly curious to him why it was his voice in her body. This would seem to indicate that the cyber enhancements were put in more than just the brain, which is something POM had not released to the public.
Adam forgot to be curious as Mark's tongue slipped into his wife's hairy bush and licked with the fervor of a man dying of thirst and this pussy was the last place to find water. Adam accepted his fate as the pleasure racked Candace's body again, different and more intense than before as this was clearly not Mark's first rodeo. Mark's strong hands went underneath Candace's body and he gently lifted her and positioned her against the headboard, all the while continuing the cunnilingus he was so adept at performing. Adam strained not to make a sound as the body he was in control of writhed in delight of Mark's oral dedication. Adam threw both hands over Candace's mouth to stifle a scream as he came in his temporary feminine form.
Mark felt his wife's legs tense up and knew he had given her something to remember. He smiled at her but then looked puzzled. "Is this a game you're playing with me? Not making any noise?" His wife looked at him quizzically, still coming down from her sexual high, and then gave a slow nod. He found this odd, and a little kinky. "Do I win if I make you scream?"
Her face registered panic at this and she shook her head profusely. Mark was confused at that response and started to climb towards her body, her legs open wide before him. With a playful smile, he asked, "So, you don't want me to make you scream?" She nodded. "Okay, you just don't want to make any sounds, is that right?"
Candace smiled at him brightly, as if he had answered correctly in a game of charades. Her smile quickly faltered however, as he positioned himself in front of her, the pushed his cock at the entrance of her sopping wet snatch. He looked down and with one hand, he moved the tip of his penis up and down her slit, not letting it go in, knowing it was having an effect on his wife by the way her hands clenched beside him. He looked up and saw the expression on his wife's face seemed to be a mix of surprise, uncertainty, and lust. Whatever was going on with his wife, he was going to take full advantage of it. He gave his hips a thrust and the entire length of his dick disappeared into his wife's slick and inviting hole.
Mark was in ecstasy by the sudden warmth that enveloped his cock. He always loved the moments he got to be inside his wife and it had been so long. He was sure that ramming his member balls deep into her would have surely elicited some sound from her sexy, open mouth, but all that escaped was a gasp of air followed by rapid breathing. He smiled at this. She was acting like she had never been fucked before and was still refusing to make any noise. He slowly withdrew, taking in every bit of her expression. As his penis exposed itself to air once again, he saw that she actually looked disappointed. She looked down at his cock and acted like it was completely alien to her, but something that she wanted more of. Candace's eyes then met his and she looked imploringly at him. She hesitantly put both her hands around to his backside and started to draw him back into her. That was all it took for him to plunge back in, seeing the same gasp come out of her mouth and again, a look of surprise as if she had never felt anything better.
Mark started to withdraw again but her hands found his ass and she started to push him back in, even further this time. He knew what she wanted now and he began to pound her pussy. He steadied himself with one hand, letting the other travel down her leg. It was bumpy with stubble but he did not care. This was his wife, the woman he had married and to him she was sexy as hell. His hand traveled back up to her stomach and he felt her goose bumps underneath his fingers. She didn't like it when he touched her there since giving birth, as it still showed signs of stretch marks, something she was very self conscious of. She said nothing though, either because of whatever game she was playing or because she was too lost in the feeling of his dick slamming in and out of her, faster and faster. Mark wasn't in the best shape of his life, but he was still young enough to have fairly decent stamina, and he wanted to make the most of this.
Mark's hand found his wife's breasts and he squeezed them each firmly, one at a time, knowing that before getting pregnant, she really liked it when he'd be rough with them. They had become off limits as he watched them swell up and become increasingly tender. She had not allowed him to suck on the nipples anymore because they were now for their child. Since then he had treated them much more carefully but now, now he decided to press his luck. After grabbing them quite harder than normal and seeing no signs of discomfort from her, he lowered his mouth and began to suck on her tit. He thought he heard a low sound escape her mouth, but paid no attention as her hands squeezed his ass and pulled, thrusting him inward. The message to him was clear, she wanted him to go faster, so he gave her what she wanted.
Adam was no longer conflicted at being penetrated by this man. It felt too good to stop and he continued to encourage Mark to thrust harder by moving underneath him and grabbing at his backside. Adam's breathing was loud, as if he was running a marathon, but he kept his voice in check. He wasn't sure he'd be able to for much longer however, as he felt this body ascending to the top of the mountain once more. He noticed Mark was making a weird face, contorting in what seemed like a happy grimace. Suddenly Adam felt the penis inside him pulsing and warmth flooded into his new crotch. A moment later, Adam experience another orgasm and wondered how women were ever able to get anything done. Then Mark collapsed like a dead wait next to him, panting and happy.
Mark hoped this was not a one time event. He draped an arm around his bride and pulled her closer, kissing her cheek. "I love you babe. If you ever want to play that game again, just let me know."
Adam panicked as the afterglow began to fade. He needed an excuse to leave the house and get back to his own. He needn't have worried about having an excuse though, as Mark began snoring next to him a minute later. Adam maneuvered out from under Mark's arm, then began dressing as he formulated how he could make a plausible exit from this body and raise the least amount of suspicion. It was very possible the authorities knew he had hacked someone's mind and they were already on their way. It was also possible nothing like this had ever happened before and they had no idea what was going on. Either way, he needed to cancel his stream of consciousness to Candace's cyber brain implants and try to cover up his tracks.
Adam had time to think about what those tracks were as he struggled with the bra. He was a computer genius, but bra technology was beyond him. At last he figured it out the clasp, put on the rest of her previous attire, and went to their bathroom. He found her prescription medication, looking for something he could use. There was one to treat insomnia that should do nicely. He opened it and left it on the bathroom counter. He went to their kitchen and searched for alcohol. He found they had a bottle of wine and poured some into a glass. He took a little sip to get the taste in her mouth, making sure to leave a tiny bit in the glass, then put it where he had been sitting when he first found himself transported here. He was not at all sure if this would work, but he had to paint a picture for Candace when she was herself again.
Adam found car keys hanging on a hook and went outside to find a minivan. He hopped in and drove the short distance to his house. His parents were both at work, which was a huge plus. The door wasn't locked, something people rarely did now with the crime rate hovering just above zero. He went upstairs to his room, opened the door, and there he was, passed out with his face next to the keyboard. It was beyond surreal. He approached the computer screen and saw that he was still logged into POM and that his program was still running, still sending his signal. Adam hoped that when he undid this, that his body would be the one to come to first. He propped his body up in the chair and spun it towards his bed. He took his wireless keyboard and positioned Candace's body horizontally onto his bed, still close enough to see the computer screen. He selected Connected on the screen and options popped up. "End Connection. Y/N?" He typed Yes, and hit Enter. A few seconds later, his vision blurred, and darkness.
Adam jolted upright in his chair causing the wheels underneath him to creak. He looked at Candace lying on his bed and saw her start to stir. He grabbed the keyboard from her lap and hoped that she had not been aware during the time he had been in control of her body. He also hoped that she would buy what was sounding like a crazy story that seemed crazier the more he thought about it, but it was all he had. He watched as her eyes fluttered, looked around very confused, then sat bolt upright to look at him.
"What? Where am I? How'd I get here?"
Adam took a deep breath, moment of truth. With concern in his voice, he said, "Mrs. Porter, oh I'm so glad you're alright."
Candace focused on Adam, then recognition kicked in. "Adam? What's going on? Am I in your bedroom?"
She was starting to look like a cornered animal and Adam spoke quickly. "You're okay. I guess you don't remember. You drove into my neighborhood a few minutes ago and almost ran me over. You stopped and apologized and, well, you weren't making a whole lot of sense. You said something about you had been tired so you took some medicine for sleeping and had some wine. You mentioned, um..." Adam felt his cheeks burn hot. "You said something about getting intimate with your husband, but in different words. Then after you wanted something to eat and got in your van and then almost ran me over. You told me all that and then passed out and I took you inside and now you're awake. I was about to call an ambulance for you. Do you still want me to, or do you feel better now?" He waited, gauging her response.
Candace couldn't remember any of what Adam just said. She had been watching television while her son played beside her. She had been sleepy but, she was always sleepy these days. Had she taken something? She couldn't remember but, she did have the taste of wine in her mouth, and she could feel a soreness like she had been well fucked recently. Adam must be telling the truth. He had been a good kid mostly, why would he lie.
"Mrs. Porter," Adam asked again, "shall I call someone for you? An ambulance, or maybe the authorities?"
"No!" Candace yelled, then calmed herself. "Um, no please Adam. You know what they do to people who drink and drive these days. I can't believe I did something so foolish. I must have blacked out and, thank goodness I didn't kill you! I'm so sorry! And then for you to bring me into your home and look out for me. I owe you Adam."
Adam reigned in the smile that was pushing vehemently at the corners of his mouth. "Absolutely not, Mrs. Porter. You were the best babysitter I ever had when I was younger and I'm just happy I could repay the favor and watch out for you for once."
"Still, you're amazing. And, um, you'll keep this between us?" she asked with a hopeful smile as she stood up, ready to leave.
Now Adam allowed himself to beam. "I will never tell a soul, Mrs. Porter. I would hate for you to get in any kind of trouble."
Candace approached Adam, and saw as he stood that he was now taller than she was. She put her arms around him and pulled him into a hug. "Thank you Adam. I really mean that."
Adam returned the hug, fully aware of her chest pushing into him. That had been his chest moments ago, beyond surreal. His body began to respond at these thoughts and he broke off the hug. "No problem, Mrs. Porter. Happy to help. Here, I'll walk you back to your van."
Adam watched from his driveway as she drove away, then ran back upstairs. He quickly logged off from POM. He should have no problem accessing it now with his program, but it would all be moot if one of several things had gone wrong for him. It was possible, but unlikely, that they had traced his digital interfering back to his computer. It was much more likely that they had noticed his signal was missing, or that it had jumped a few miles away, or that Candace's signal had disappeared altogether. He didn't know how all that worked, but if he wasn't busted within a few hours, he should be in the clear. The one thing he knew he had going for him was that thus far, a crime had not been committed in their area, or at least one that anyone knew about, and so any signal interruption might just blow over.
If he was still here tomorrow, he would try to go deeper into POM and find out about the cyber implants they all possessed. They were clearly more extensive than he knew. If he could access them, maybe he could help himself by keeping the host's voice. Was he really thinking of doing this again? He remembered how it had felt to be in Candace's body. If he hadn't already been caught, he was definitely doing this again, but he would be more prepared next time. The hard part would be the next few hours, waiting to see if someone was coming for him.
Many miles away, in a large building that staffed more computers than personnel, information was pouring in, a constant geyser of consumer data that burst forth in a never ending torrent. Crime had continued its downward trend, but there was loads of other, much more valuable things to go over, such as, where was the money being spent and how could the corporate overlords get more of it?
One analyst had gone over as much data as he could in one shift. Now he compiled his daily end of shift report and highlighted areas of concern for his supervisor. Instead of sending the information electronically, he actually took the time to print this report, as he wanted to hand it off in person. He knocked on his supervisor's open door to announce his presence.
"Got the numbers boss. Printed mine out because I thought you might want to see something interesting?"
"Put it next to this stack," the boss motioned at a leaning pile of paperwork. "Something caught your eye did it? I don't remember any crime being reported in your area?"
"There wasn't but, well, something weird happened. A signal stopped."
The boss didn't look up at this but continued looking at official documents that appeared to need his undivided attention. "Signals stop all the time. Happens when people die. That's hardly interesting or weird, just a fact of life."
The analyst knew this. Each time a person died it was flagged as a signal interruption. If a crime was reported in the area, those cases were investigated immediately and the perpetrator caught quickly. If there was no crime, and there hardly was anymore, it was investigated as time allowed, often times getting backlogged for days. When someone got to it, it was usually a death due to natural causes. If the person was alive, which was almost never the case, they were brought in, opened up, whatever issue fixed with their cyber ware, and then sent home the next day. But this issue was much different than death or a faulty signal.
"I'd agree boss, but this signal stopped, then resumed a few miles away, where another signal stopped, but did not resume."
The boss stopped looking at his paperwork. "What? That shouldn't...did you monitor remotely? I don't remember a request for that one and feel like I'd definitely remember a scenario like that."
"I didn't request a remote viewing because by the time I noticed anything suspicious, both signals were back. The first signal returned to its point of origin, then the second signal resumed and, well, that's it."
The boss mulled this over. They were only allowed to ever remote view if a crime had been committed in the reported area. When the technology had come available at first, many within POM had taken advantage of the situation and let it become their own private peep show. Swift action had been taken and the perverts had been removed. Spying on the general public with POM's technology was a serious crime, and each staff member's visual records were examined daily to ensure this kind of illicit surveillance was not happening.
The boss made a decision. "Okay, so if both signals are back, that had to be a glitch or something. If there was no crime involved, we do nothing for now. Flag both their signals and if it happens again, we'll bring them in and fix whatever's wrong."
The analyst nodded and left. He stopped by his computer and flagged the two troublesome dots. If anything else funny happened, they'd know immediately.
To be continued...
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