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Liam and Chloe is a couple and been dating each other for a long time. They enjoy their life, adventure, and even have sex. Suddenly, after they're climax, Chloe's body starts to glow and transforms into a different woman.
After Chloe transforms into Beatrice, he finds it kinky with her transformation or regeneration when she changes into someone else. Plus, it's hard to imagine that Beatrice was his girlfriend. Then again, it's way better than Doctor Who.
No selection - the entire chapter will be rewritten.
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(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.
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.)
All characters are 18 or older.
Rachel Smith came home from school exhausted. She did not want to think about going back to school for tomorrow, the tests she’d taken today alone had mentally drained her and going back tomorrow to finish the rest of them was not a pleasant thought. At least that would be their last day of testing for a while. I almost forgot Rachel thought as she plopped down onto the couch, I promised Elizabeth and Susan I'd check up on them.
Me: Hey all!
How were the tests?
Elizabeth: Ugh!
Don’t talk to me about them right now, alright?
Susan: I don’t think I did too well, honestly
Think I’m going to flunk biology at this rate…
I hope I’ll still be able to graduate though
Me: I’m not sure how the colleges will take that
You know, failing thing?
Susan: omg
Rachel, shut up.
Did you even do your tests?
Or were you doing your little “cheating”?
Rachel paused. Of course, she hadn’t cheated today, the thought hadn’t even crossed her mind to do so. Afterall, if she had, what would have been the point of all those sleepless nights studying for all this? But… I mean… for English, Matthew will be in the same class as me… Rachel swallowed, not sure if this was something she was really considering doing, then again, it would make her life a lot easier. As far as she knew, no one was able to tell what happened to them after she left, although there was the problem that she wouldn’t be able to stay inside them for too long, otherwise she might not have enough time to write down the answers on her own test.
Rachel shook her head and picked up her phone again:
Me:As if!
Unlike some people, I wouldn’t use my powers for selfish reasons!
Elizabeth: Girl,
You used them to see how large Trevor’s penis was
Me: That wasn’t selfish!
That was for science!
Anyway
I promise you girls I didn’t cheat
Well, she didn’t cheat today anyway. But tomorrow, well that was another story. Although Elizabeth and Susan didn’t need to know that. It wouldn’t be fair to them if they knew she was having an easier time just because of something like this. It’s funny how it all happened.
There were three of them, Rachel, Elizabeth, and Susan. Susan was the shortest of them, with tanned skin and dark hair. Elizabeth was the tallest, standing taller than even some of the boys at their school. Unlike Susan and Rachel, Elizabeth had lean muscles all along her body, although most people wouldn’t notice as she kept her clothes on the baggier side. And then there was Rachel who stood shorter than Elizabeth, but taller than Susan. Rachel’s red hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail and she was laughing at a joke Susan said.
They had taken a break from studying for their upcoming tests when Rachel noticed a yard sale in their neighborhood run by an old woman. When asked, the woman gave them a sad smile and told them most of these things belonged to either her late husband or her daughter, both of whom sadly passed away in a car accident a few weeks back.
While Elizabeth was consoling the woman, Rachel decided to look through some of the belongings that were up for sale. Some old clothes, a few sports equipment, and some books. Rachel paused when she noticed a box of books mostly hidden behind some golf clubs. She peered over the top, and nearly squealed when she saw they were first edition copies of Jane Smith’s Dearest Diary series. Is this the whole collection? Rachel wondered, flipping through some of the books in the box. It was indeed.
“Excuse me?” Rachel asked, “How much for the box of them?”
The old woman gave a small smile and walked closer, examining the thing that caught Rachel’s eye, “For the set, I’d say twenty dollars should do the trick,” the woman replied, “Hazel loved this when she was a kid.”
Rachel eagerly handed the woman the money and as soon as she took the box in her hands the woman piped up again, “Oh, I think my dear Tom might’ve left something in one of those books. He always liked getting into some trouble, if you find it it’s yours to keep!”
Trouble? Rachel smiled and waved for Elizabeth and Susan to follow her as they went back to her house. Once they were in his room, Rachel immediately got to work making room in her bookshelf to store those books. While she was doing so, Elizabeth and Susan were making light jokes at her expense, out of all the things in that yard sale, Rachel got books, most of which she already owned.
Of course you wouldn’t understand the pleasure of a first edition book you love Rachel thought, placing five of the twelve books in her bookcase. Something slipped out from between the pages of book six though. Rachel frowned, and bent down to pick it up, “What’s that?” Susan asked, as she and Elizabeth got closer.
“It looks like a letter,” Rachel replied, picking it up in her hands.
“Should we open it?” Susan asked.
“We probably shouldn’t,” Elizabeth replied, “it’s not ours.”
“That old lady said we could have whatever we find inside.” Rachel reminded her, getting ready to open it.
Elizabeth stepped forward and made a swipe for the letter, “What if it’s something dangerous? Like… drugs or something?”
Rachel managed to fend her off and Susan helped hold Elizabeth back, “We won’t know until we try. Besides, aren’t you two just the tiniest bit curious?”
Elizabeth swallowed, but didn’t answer. Susan, however, was nodding her head enthusiastically. That was all Rachel needed and she opened the envelope, not sure what might be inside.
To little fanfare, all that was inside was just a letter, “It looks like a simple letter,” Rachel revealed with a sigh.
“What’s it say?” Susan asked.
Rachel held the letter up, the handwriting wasn’t the greatest, and neither was the paper quality, but eventually she managed to work out the words. She read aloud:
To Hazel,
I want you to have something of mine. It’s a little trick I’ve picked up from my travels when I was younger. Maybe one day I’ll tell you where I found it, but until that day comes, I will leave with this and this alone.
Now, I don’t want to tell you much of the details of what I got up to with this little trick of mine, but just know that I know what to look for so don’t you think about causing any trouble with this, alright?
Rachel frowned when she tried to read beyond that point. She wasn’t sure if maybe the old man’s writing got particularly bad or if he was writing in another language, but she couldn’t make heads or tails of what was written after. It all just looked like a bunch of squiggly symbols.
“What’s wrong?” Susan asked.
“I can’t read anything else,” Rachel replied.
“Well maybe that’s for the best then,” Elizabeth said as Rachel stared harder at the words, “afterall, this seems like something intimate between a dad and his daughter, I don’t think it’s really our place to - OH MY GOD!”
At first, Rachel wasn’t sure what got Elizabeth so excited, and then Susan started freaking out too. They were shouting at her to drop the letter, and Rachel looked at them, not sure why they were freaking out, but then she realized the paper was burning in her hands.
She sucked in a breath, but before she could even think of letting go, the fire completely enveloped the paper, however, as the fire burned Rachel swore the strange words glowed white hot against the fire. What happened next, Rachel wasn’t exactly sure, the fire and the words flowed into her and Rachel felt something tugging at her very being. Suddenly, she felt herself lurching forward and she stumbled back until her back hit the wall.
“Ow!” Rachel cried out as the back of her head protested in pain.
“Rachel, oh my god, are you alright?” Susan cried.
Rachel, still with her eyes closed, replied, “I’m fine, just a little bump.”
“Elizabeth, this is serious!” Susan nearly shrieked.
Rachel opened her eyes, and she noticed she was taller, and her body felt stronger than it had before. She wiped some stray blonde strands from her face -- wait, blonde hair?
She looked over at Susan and saw she was crouching over Rachel’s own body. Rachel stared in horror, lifting up her hands to see they weren’t actually her hands, but were actually Elizabeth’s.
“Elizabeth!” Susan hissed, “Don’t just stand there! Get help!”
“I’m not Elizabeth!” Rachel breathed.
“What?”
“I said I’m not Elizabeth!” Rachel said, “I’m Rachel,” she pointed to her own body on the floor, “that… that’s my body… except,” she looked down at herself again, “I’m not in it.”
“Is Elizabeth in there?” Susan asked.
Hello? Rachel thought, Hello? Elizabeth! Are you there? She shook her head and crouched down beside her own body. Her body was still breathing, that was good, at least it wouldn’t die without her inside. She tried poking and prodding, but no response.
“Elizabeth isn’t in this body,” Rachel replied, “and it looks like mine’s empty.”
Before either of them could think of what happened, the door opened and Rachel’s mom came in. She was gasping for breath, “Girls! What happened? Why were you screaming?”
“O-oh! Mo-Mrs. Smith!” Rachel began, trying to think of a way out of this, “There was… a spider hiding in the books! A big one! It scared us all until we managed to kill it, but… I think Rachel fainted from the sight of it.”
Rachel’s mom sighed, “Well, that’s alright,” she frowned at the sight of Rachel’s body unconscious on the floor, “I think you should make sure Rachel didn’t hurt herself when she fell, it could be serious.”
“We will,” Susan piped up, “thanks, Mrs. Smith!”
With that, Rachel’s mom, thankfully left the room and Rachel and Susan were still trying to figure out what happened. Am I trapped here? Rachel wondered, How do I get back to my body?
“Can you get out of her?” Susan asked.
“I don’t know!” Rachel replied, running her fingers through Elizabeth’s blonde hair, “I’m-I’m trying to think!”
“Well what happened that made you go inside her?” Susuan asked.
“I-I-I don’t know!” Rachel hissed, “I just felt something pulling at me and one second I was in my body and the next I’m in Elizabeth’s!”
Susan looked around, trying to see if there were any remains of the paper left that might explain what happened. While she was doing so, Rachel was taking a few deep breaths as she looked back at her body on the floor. Alright, I’ll… see if I can’t replicate that, somehow.
Sitting down, Rachel closed her eyes and imagined herself, a ghost of herself, getting outside of Elizabeth’s body. She kept the image, concentrating harder and harder until she felt something, like a hook pulling at her. Is it working? Can I get out of here?
Rachel focused on that feeling and imagined that hook pulling her out of Elizabeth’s body. The feeling of pulling grew stronger and stronger until Elizabeth shuddered and Rachel was able to slip out. Only… she wasn’t back in her body.
She floated outside, like a ghost. From this, she was able to see her body still on the floor and Elizabeth slowly regaining consciousness. She went over towards her body, feeling a slight pull, but hesitated when she noticed Susan was still searching for any clue of what might’ve happened, crouching down to look for any remains of that strange letter.
Rachel smiled, feeling a little mischievous, it wouldn’t be fair if only Liz got possessed, afterall. She floated closer to Susan and felt a slight pull as she got closer. She plunged herself into Susuan just as she was standing up and Susan shuddered, gasped, and then Rachel opened her eyes and found herself in Susan’s body.
Elizabeth groaned, “Ow… I think I hit my head… Oh my-! Rachel! Are you-?”
“I’m fine,” Rachel replied, facing Elizabeth.
“Susan, this isn’t the time for joking around, I think Rachel’s-”
Rachel held up a hand, “Liz, relax, it’s me, Rachel. I think that letter was a spell of some kind… it put me in your body and then I was able to get out and decided to possess Susan.”
Elizabeth swallowed, frowning, “You really expect me to believe that?”
“I know it sounds far-fetched, but it’s the truth! Look, would Susan really be trying to mess with you if I was really in danger?”
The wheels were turning behind Elizabeth’s eyes, but Rachel knew she still didn’t believe this. “Prove it,” she said, “Tell me something only Rachel would know.”
Rachel thought for a moment, but decided this might be the perfect opportunity to mess with Elizabeth for a bit. “You panicked in the fifth grade when you forgot to buy a gift for Susan’s birthday and had to piggyback off my gift. In middle school you decided to tell me that you thought boys were icky and had no idea why Susan was so interested in them, going as far as calling Maxwell, her current crush at the time, a loser dweeb,” Rachel saw Elizabeth’s expression changing from skeptical to disbelief and knew she believed her, but decided to keep going, “in freshman year you came out to me as a lesbian and I assured you that Susan would accept you, too, and after a week of planning you came out as a lesbian. The day afterwards, I decided to tell you I was bisexual and then told Susan the day after…” Elizabeth was looking a bit red in the face now, “and last year, you and I shared a kiss behind the school to test things out. We didn’t tell Susan and while we fooled around, we decided it was better to stay as friends.”
Elizabeth was covering her face with her hands now, “Jeez, I believed you after the second thing, you didn’t need to keep going.”
Rachel giggled and gave Elizabeth a quick peck on the cheek. She barely had time to react before Elizabeth lashed out, swiping at her with her hand. Rachel kept laughing, although she made sure to cover her face with her arms, “Woah! Careful, Liz! This is Susan’s body, you know!”
“I know,” Elizabeth growled, “and can you please get out of her? I’m already freaking out enough now.”
Rachel smiled and prepared herself to leave again. The pull came easier now, and she was able to easily slip out of Susan’s body and entered her own. She got up, wincing as she felt where her body had hit the floor when she flew out of it. Ow! I guess I have to be careful when I leave because I’ll feel the pain when I come back in! Ow!
While Rachel was tending to the ache in her head, Susan got up and looked around, confused as to why she was no longer near the bookshelf. She noticed, however, that both Elizabeth and Rachel were up. “What happened?” Susan asked slowly, “No way, Rachel? Did you possess me?”
“I thought it was the best way to explain to Elizabeth what happened,” Rachel replied, still rubbing her head, “Don’t worry, nothing happened while you were gone.”
“Yes,” Elizabeth replied, looking at Rachel with a dark expression, “nothing happened.”
“So neither of you were aware of anything while I was inside you?” Rachel asked, starting to get to her feet.
“Last thing I remembered before coming to was freaking out because that letter was on fire,” Elizabeth replied, “after that… I woke up on the floor.”
“Same,” Susan replied, “I was just looking for anything that might tell us what was happening when everything went black and then I was on the floor.”
After that little episode, the three of them decided to test out potential limits for Rachel’s powers. As far as they can tell, there was no distance limit to how far away she can get from her body, nor did there appear to be a time limit to how long Rachel can stay outside her body, although she didn’t want to stay out of it for too long as her body still needed to eat. As a ghost, Rachel wasn’t able to travel very fast, only going about walking speed, but she was able to go through walls and fly. She didn’t test out if she could possess animals because she was scared she might not be able to leave.
The three of them had some fun for her powers, with one of the first things Rachel did was possess Susan’s crush, Trevor, and go through his phone to look for any clues about what he might be interested in. Rachel found him alone in his room studying when she came upon him. As she slipped inside, Trevor shuddered and gasped, “What the f-!” before Rachel completely took over.
So, this is what it’s like being a boy, Rachel thought, flexing her arms, I could get used to this, anyway, time to see if I can find anything he’s interested in. His phone was, thankfully, unlocked and after combing through it, she gasped when she found his gallery and the stuff that was inside it. There were numerous pictures of girls in various states of undress, Rachel recognized them as being in her same grade and covered her mouth. Oh my… I never would’ve thought Trevor got around this much!
These pictures looked like they were taken by the girls themselves too, and they usually winked or smiled at the camera, no doubt intending this as a gift for Trevor for later. I need to tell Susan, now! she quickly messaged Susan from Trevor’s phone before deleting the conversation on his end so he wouldn’t have any evidence that she had been messing around with his stuff.
Rachel sighed and was about to leave Trevor’s body when she felt something pressing hard against her pants. Don’t tell me… she looked down and gasped when she saw Trevor’s boner winking at her. She licked her lips, she shouldn’t, she really shouldn’t, but… well she was always curious about what masturbating with a penis felt like and Trevor had plenty of material on his phone to get her going.
I'm going to masturbate as a boy!
Susan: Elizabeth is saying not to, but I wanna see a dick pic!
Alright! Before she could second guess the morality of the situation, Rachel got to her feet and locked herself in the bathroom before ripping off Trevor’s pants. Trevor’s penis wasn’t anything special, a bit on the smaller and slimmer side, but it reacted quickly to Rachel’s touch. She sent a quick picture to Susan before erasing all the evidence from Trevor’s phone before she got to work.
She opened Trevor’s gallery again, scrolling through the various pictures he had, all of it was making her feel warm and she quickly discovered a rhythm to stroking his cock. Mmh, Veronica definitely has a nice body! Rachel thought, sucking in a breath through clenched teeth, as she stared at a photo of a mostly naked Veronica, And Abigail's hot! Who knew she was hiding all that under her baggy clothes? Trevor’s dick was twitched in her hand as she scrolled his gallery, the pleasure beginning to overcome her. It was much faster than masturbating as a girl, and she could feel the pressure rising within herself. With one final grunt, Rachel experienced her first orgasm as a guy and decided it would be funny to leave Trevor in his own sperm soaked mess.
Susan decided not to pursue Trevor, not because of the various pictures on his phone, but because she thought his dick was too small, but Rachel thought she was caring too much about the wrong things, it felt perfect to her, the pictures on his phone, however, that would have turned her off of him if she had even been interested.
It was crazy to think that had all only been a few days ago, and now here she was, in class once again about to use her power to help her cheat on her tests. It was easy enough getting out of her own skin, she just had to make sure to make it look like she was thinking and not passed out in class. After leaving her body, she made her way to Matthew without much trouble and got inside of him.
As usual, there was a slight struggle as her consciousness overpowered the person already in here, but thankfully all Matthew did was let out a small gasp. Alright, I’m in! Rachel quickly flipped through Matthew’s test, doing her best to memorize what answers he’d pick before she returned to her own body.
As she left Matthew though, she saw something strange when she came back out. For a moment, she thought she saw a blur of something vaguely person-shaped slip into the body of one of the girls in class, a quiet girl with big glasses named Vanessa, someone Rachel rarely spoke to, but had heard some of the boys whisper about excitedly. At first, Rachel thought she imagined it until Vanessa gave the telltale shudder and gasped. What?
A wicked smile etched itself on Vanessa’s mouth and she raised her hand and asked to leave to go to the bathroom. Rachel was curious, wanting to see what was going on before she remembered she hadn’t written down any of the answers. Quickly, she returned to her own body and copied down the answers she’d gotten from Matthew, making sure to occasionally mark a different answer so she didn’t get flagged for cheating. Although how exactly they would prove she’d cheated was beyond her, it was better not to take any chances here.
From there, Rachel waited, keeping an eye on the clock. She’d finished her own test and almost an hour passed but Vanessa still wasn’t back. I need to go check on her. Putting her head down, Rachel slipped out of her body and left the classroom. She heard Vanessa, or whoever was inside Vanessa, say she was going to the bathroom so that’s where Rachel headed.
She slipped inside and immediately heard crying, mixed in with mumblings of words. Worried, Rachel came closer, stopping when she saw a pile of clothes, Vanessa’s clothes, laying in a puddle of water in front of the sinks and Vanessa huddled naked against the wall, crying.
Vanessa made little effort to hide her body, as her hands were busy covering her face rather than anything else, leaving her small breasts exposed, as well as exposing her shaved pussy. As she got closer, Rachel noticed something leaking from Vanessa’s vagina, like she had been aroused earlier.
What happened here? Rachel thought.
She approached Vanessa, examining her to see if something was wrong. It didn’t look like someone was inside her, but Rachel had no idea what happened. Naturally she couldn’t ask Vanessa this, and even if she could Vanessa wouldn’t have any memory of what happened when she was possessed.
Rachel looked down at the clothes on the floor. They were wet, and wouldn’t look like they’d dry until after the test. I… I need to help her. Rachel went inside Vanessa. She gasped as she found herself in control of the other girl's body, and shivered from the coldness of the bathroom tile against her naked skin.
She couldn’t help but notice something else. This body felt good like it had just recently orgasmed. Rachel gulped, and stood up. She grabbed as many paper towels as she could and went to work trying to dry off Vanessa’s clothes. It wouldn’t get it all out, but that wasn’t the plan.
She slipped the clothes on, shivering intensely at how cold everything was before leaving the bathroom where one of the hall monitors noticed her and flagged her down.
“Young lady,” he began, “why on earth are you soaking wet?”
“There’s a problem with the sink,” Rachel lied, “it sprayed water all over me when I tried to wash my hands.”
The hall monitor sighed, “Well, I can’t let you return to your classroom like this, follow me, we’ll see if we can get you some dry clothes from the lost and found.”
Vanessa returned to class wearing an oversized hoodie along with a pair of sweatpants that were slightly too big for her. It didn’t help that they both smelled of sweat and body odor, but at least now Vanessa could finish her test. Feeling extra helpful, Rachel decided to fill in the answers for her that she took from Matthew, again, making sure she separated them from her own answers. Alright, I hope this goes well for her, Rachel thought as she got ready to leave her body poor girl.
With that, she returned to her own body and waited until the bell rang and class was let out to go to lunch. Is there someone else here with powers like mine? she wondered as she grabbed her belongings. Rachel glanced around the room, wondering if maybe whoever it was might’ve been in the room with her. No, she hadn’t noticed anyone else seemingly passed out like how she looks when she becomes a ghost. Someone from outside her classroom then, but staff or student? Boy or girl? As Rachel walked into the hallway and towards the cafeteria, she continued to glance around as more and more students came into the hall. Any one of them could have powers like hers.
Rachel thankfully managed to find Susan and Elizabeth during lunch. She was worried they would have different lunch schedules because of the test, but that wasn’t the case. Elizabeth and Susan were in the middle of talking about what they were going to do after the test. They almost didn’t notice Rachel sitting down next to them until she asked, “Hey, has anyone in your class acted… weird today?”
“Well hello to you, too, Rachel,” Susan replied, “anyway… no, not really. Why? Did something happen?”
Rachel lowered her voice, it wouldn’t be good if whoever was behind this overheard what she was going to tell them. No telling how this other person would react. “During the test… you know that quiet girl, Vanessa? I saw someone jump into her and, after some time had passed, I decided to follow using my powers…” she paused as she gathered herself to prepare to explain what happened next as she was still shaken by the sight of it, “when I found her in the bathroom, she was naked and all of her clothes had been soaked in the sink. When I hopped inside of her I also felt like… like she had just orgasmed.”
Susan and Elizabeth gasped and leaned back in their seats, their eyes wide with horror. “What did you do?” Elizabeth asked.
“I dried off her clothes the best I could,” Rachel explained, “afterwards, I picked up some clothes from the lost and found and finished her test for her.” After she finished, Rachel looked around the cafeteria, wondering if anyone had been listening in to their conversation. None of the students seemed to notice or care, being far more interested in their own meals or conversations. Still, Rachel felt her skin crawl at the thought that the person responsible was in this room with them.
“Should…” Susan hesitated, “should we do something about this?”
“What can we do?” Elizabeth asked, “I don’t think any member of the staff will believe us if we tell them what happened and I’m not sure if there’s anything we can do to this creep without putting ourselves in harm's way!”
“I might be able to do something.” Rachel said.
“Rachel, no-” Elizabeth began.
“I’m the only one with powers like this,” Rachel cut her off, “I’m the only one who would be able to see them, and I might be able to put a stop to all this.”
“Rachel,” Elizabeth said, “please be careful, alright? From what you said, I… don’t feel comfortable with you going to confront this guy alone.”
“Elizabeth is right,” Susan agreed, “what if he’s, I don’t know, able to turn the tables on you?”
Rachel swallowed, feeling sick, “I don’t know,” she replied honestly, “but I can’t just sit here and do nothing.”
For the rest of the day, Rachel was on high alert, keeping a close eye on any of her classmates to see if they acted off. However, nothing happened. At least, not in her class anyway. After the tests were over and everyone got their phones back, Rachel was immediately hit with several messages from both Susan and Elizabeth.
Elizabeth: Rachel, we have a problem
He struck again.
Melissa, you know, the girl in the school band with the freckles?
She left for the restroom and didn’t come back
Going to check on her now
Susan: Rachel, problem.
several girls were straight up missing when we came back
The teacher didn’t know what happened to them
Some of their friends said the girls left during lunch and then they just didn’t come back
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! Rachel took in a breath, and as calmly as she could, she looked around for anything suspicious. She almost missed it, but she saw one of the girls in the cheer leading team, a tall brunette named Victoria, suddenly gasp and shudder, stopping briefly mid walk and suddenly turning around with a slight smile on her face. Bingo.
Me:I found him. I’m going to follow him for a bit and see what happens
Elizabeth: Careful.
Susan: Stay safe
With that, Rachel put her phone away and followed Victoria, or rather the person possessing Victoria, through the hallways. She made sure to keep her distance, didn’t want whoever was inside Victoria getting suspicious about her, but she also made sure to keep Victoria in her line of sight so she wouldn’t get away.
At first, Rachel thought the possessor would take Victoria into another bathroom, but no, whoever it was was taking Victoria inside the girls locker room. No one else was inside when Victoria walked in, and Rachel was barely able to slip in herself without the door closing on her. From there, she decided to hide herself away near the entrance where, hopefully, her body wouldn’t be seen.
Alright, Rachel thought, her mouth a bit dry, I’m going in. She separated herself from her body and floated over in the direction of the lockers.
She wasn’t surprised when she saw Victoria’s body already in a state of undress. Whoever was inside her had already taken off Victoria’s shoes, socks, pants, and shirt, leaving her in just her white bra and panties. The imposter stood in front of the mirror inside Victoria’s locker, admiring Victoria’s body with a wicked grin on her face as her hands reached behind her back to unclip the bra, slipping it off her and allowing Victoria’s full breasts to come into view.
Rachel caught sight of herself in the locker mirror and froze, Oh god, does he see me? The imposter, however, didn’t look like he was able to see ghosts while he was possessing someone, much like how Rachel didn’t see him while she was inside Matthew’s body. While Rachel stood frozen, the imposter took the opportunity to slide off Victoria’s panties and was now standing completely naked in front of the mirror, admiring how Victoria looked. “Oh yeah,” she growled, “much better than that mousy little Vanessa, no idea what the other guys were seeing in her.”
Rachel continued floating over, moving agonizingly slow.
One of Victoria’s hands went to her breasts, cupping them and squeezing the nipples. “Mmm, bigger than Melissa’s,” she moaned, “but not as sensitive-OH!” Victoria arched her back as her fingers slipped inside her vagina, “Oh FUCK! Oh! I think she’s the most sensitive one so far!”
Rachel held out her hands as she got closer to Victoria. Unlike before, where she always felt a slight pull towards the body she was about to enter, here she felt a slight push and she had to force herself to get closer. Fortunately, the imposter didn’t seem to notice, lost as he was busy pleasuring himself in Victoria’s body. As he got closer to the climax, Rachel was able to make her way into Victoria’s body. Get out!
”What the? Who are you? You get out!”
Rachel jerked, causing Victoria’s leg to jerk. Her vision was darkness until she saw flashes of the locker room from Victoria’s perspective. She felt a hand closing in on her throat and wasn’t sure who was the one squeezing, if it was her or the other person. I said… GET OUT1
With a shove, Rachel pushed the other presence out of Victoria and gained control for a brief moment. She looked around and was about to leave when she felt the presence trying to come back in, Victoria’s body started shuddering and Rachel once again found herself fighting for control against this creep.
I won’t let you take advantage of anyone else! Rachel screamed, leaving Victoria’s body, but making sure she dragged the other presence out with her. Bodiless, as ghosts, they both floated in the locker room, and while they had each other’s hands around the other person’s throat, neither of them were able to feel pain, just mild discomfort.
But Rachel gasped when she saw who the other person was. It was Trevor, and he was glaring down at her, but the anger quickly melted into surprise and they both let go, floating a little bit away from each other. “Trevor?” Rachel gasped.
“Rachel?” Trevor gasped.
Rachel thought back to when she searched Trevor’s phone, some of those pictures of the girls were taken from their perspectives, at first, she had thought Trevor was flirting around with all those girls, but could he have actually been possessing them and used them to give himself those pictures?
“How… how long did you have this power?” Rachel asked.
“A month, just about,” Trevor replied, sneering, “I think you can see what I’ve been using it for. You?”
“A little over two weeks.”
Trevor thought for a moment, and his sneer deepened, “Ah, so I guess it was you I have to thank for waking up covered in my own mess that one time. Well, as you can see, you might’ve inspired me to do more with my powers than just simple pictures.”
“Why did you leave them stranded without clothes?”
Trevor shrugged, “I didn’t do that will all of them, just the ones who went out of their way to mock me, judge me, call me a creep! A pervert! Loser!”
Rachel scoffed, “I don’t think they were too far off with those claims seeing what you’ve done,”
“Really?” Trevor asked, coming closer, “You violated me, and then judge me when I do the same? Well, let’s see how you like it then! Your body must be around here, somewhere, right?”
Before she could react, Trevor shoved her aside and started floating off towards the exit of the locker room, right where her body was. Shit! Rachel thought, floating behind him. Trevor glanced behind him as he floated, “Heh, guess I’m getting close.”
Fuck! Rachel thought, I shouldn’t have followed! Now he knows where my body is! She tried going faster, using her ghostly arms and legs to try to propel herself forward, but it was no use, both her and Trevor were going the exact same speed, but Trevor was ahead of her. No.
Her body came into view, slumped over against the wall. Trevor chuckled as he got closer and slowly started to slip inside. NO! Rachel reached forward, forcing herself inside before Trevor could get in her body. She expected resistance, a fight, anything, but she gasped awake as she easily slipped inside her body.
What? Where’s-? Suddenly, she gasped, her body jerking on its own accord, she felt him then, trying to force his way inside of her. Rachel knew then that he wanted her to get inside first, so she’d be trapped while he possessed her. She needed to leave! Now!
“You’re not going anywhere.” Trevor whispered in her mind as Rachel felt the pulling turn into pushing as she forced inside her body as Trevor took control. She continued fighting, but she was quickly losing. She stopped feeling her legs, then her arms, until all she controlled was her eyes and then her vision slowly slipped away as she lost all control. no…
Trevor gasped awake, grinning as he looked down at his hands, Rachel’s hands. Okay Rachel, let’s see how you like being played with. He made his way over to the lockers again, having completely forgotten about Victoria until she finally regained consciousness and shrieked when she discovered she was naked.
“Rachel!” Victoria shrieked, grabbing Rachel’s shirt, “What happened? Why am I naked? Did you see whoever did this?”
Trevor smiled, and leaned closer, kissing Victoria on the lips, when he pulled back, Victoria was staring at him wide eyed, “I’m sorry,” he said, “I just couldn’t resist, especially seeing you like this.”
Victoria pulled away, quickly grabbing her clothes and using them to cover herself, “Rachel, what the hell? This isn’t the time for anything like that!”
Trevor held up his hands, “Easy, easy, I was just suggesting we can take advantage of the moment, you know?”
Victoria’s face went red and she quickly ran out of the locker room. Damn, Trevor thought, watching her go, I was really looking forward to trying sex as a woman. Maybe I came off too strong. Oh well, at least I still have this body.
Trevor stood in front of the mirror of Victoria’s locker. Let’s see what we’re working with here. Trevor went to work, taking off Rachel’s boots first. He was surprised to see she wasn’t wearing any socks, but that was fine, less work for him. Afterwards, her shirt came off, Oh Rachel, naughty girl, underneath, a black bra held back her freckled breasts. I can’t wait to play with those Trevor thought, but first, her pants came off next, and Trevor eagerly ripped off the matching black panties. Oh my! Trevor laughed giddily as the underwear came off, I was not expecting this! Rachel’s pussy was completely shaved, giving him a nice clean view of her mound and puffy lips.
His hands went to his bra, he shook slightly from anticipation before taking it off. Rachel’s breasts weren’t as large as Victoria’s, but they were very soft and bouncy, and the freckles dusting across her skin drew his eyes to her breasts' natural roundness. He swallowed, breathing deeply as heat gathered between Rachel’s legs.
No sense putting all this off, then Without further ado, Trevor sat down and got to work fingering Rachel. Oh! Trevor bit his lip, Rachel’s back arching of its own accord as his fingers slipped inside her warmth, Shit! She’s sensitive! He licked his lips, moaning deeply as he fingered her. He found her clitoris easily and a few flicks nearly incapacitated him from the sheer pleasure.
He grunted, his free hand cupping her breasts and rubbing her erect nipples. Finally, it came. With a loud groan, Trevor felt Rachel’s body climax and laid dazed for a moment, unable to feel his legs. Fuck, Rachel. I think… out of all the bodies I’ve possessed, yours is my favorite. Trevor was about to get up and leave Rachel laying here in her shame when he heard a ding coming from her discarded pants.
It was Rachel’s phone.
Elizabeth: Rachel, you alright?
Did you find out who did it?
Trevor grinned, maybe he might be able to have sex with a woman after all. He just needed to play his cards better this time. Sorry, Rachel, looks like I’m staying in here for a little longer.
Me: Don’t worry, I’m fine.
Wanna meet up at my house?
I’ll tell you what I found out.
Elizabeth: Sure
I’ll bring Susan with me.
Oh, this was just getting better and better.
The End?
However, instead of trying to fix things when she discovers this, Ryan sets her sights on fulfilling her all longheld ambitions with Logan's newfound abilities.
Logan is initially keen with just going along things as he possesses more bodies and pushes the extent of his capabilities. However, when a desire to be more than just her golden goose begins to stir within him, he soon finds himself starting to make plans to fulfill his own longheld desires...
Abstract
In a drab concrete parking structure, sitting inside a car that looked too small for his large frame, a sizable young man silently debated a life choice. It had occupied his mind for days, ever since a certain woman from his past had reached out for the first time in years. Even though he felt indecisive, he had a few mental tools to help him make his mind up. No matter how big the choice, the real decision was whether to start the engine back up and drive away… or open the car door and step out.
…
With a muted pop, the car door swung open.
He had already driven this far, turning back would be a waste of time and gas. Maybe the choice had already been made the very instant he got into his car earlier. Then all the worrying afterwards was just pointless emotion, the last-minute anxiety and doubt that comes with seeing “abandon all hope, ye who enter here” on the gates of hell despite knowing exactly what must be done.
The large man’s heavy footsteps made the only sound in the echoing gray maze. He was a tall mountain of a man that few would challenge physically. He was dressed nicely enough, something a little more than casual, something to wear when reuniting with an old… friend. After exiting the parking structure, he found himself a short distance away from a security booth, its red and white bar hanging guarding the street entrance and a separate pedestrian gate on the opposite side. Behind the booth’s bulletproof glass, a uniformed guard watched the man approach, asking for his ID as soon as he was close enough.
“Name and date of birth?”
“Logan Miller, February 19th. It says on my ID.”
“Reason for visiting?”
“I’m getting a tour from Ryan Everly.”
The guard returned Logan’s ID alongside a freshly printed plastic badge on a lanyard. An audible metallic click could be heard from the pedestrian gate. Logan passed through the gate and headed towards the monolithic building ahead.
As Logan walked, he inspected the plastic badge he was given. At the top, a logo for SynthraForma, followed by VISITOR in bold black letters, then his name, face, and a barcode with small numbers beneath.
Reaching the entrance, he tried the door handle and found it locked. He tried to use his badge on a nearby reader, but it beeped and showed a red light in rejection. Just as Logan was thinking of returning to the guard, the locked doors violently swung open from the inside. Barely dodging the doors, Logan suddenly stood before a stunning woman.
Beautiful red hair that instantly drew stares, captivating hazel eyes that were framed by complementary glasses, flawless skin that supermodels would envy, and a killer figure underneath a white lab coat. Ryan Everly, Logan’s high school best friend that he hadn’t seen since. She cracked a charming smile on her rosy lips, and spoke with her enchanting voice.
“Long time no see. It’s been a while hasn’t it?”
Introduction
Logan hadn’t seen Ryan since graduating high school a considerable number of years ago. In the past she was already pretty, but during the years that he hadn’t seen her, Ryan’s natural beauty was further enhanced to perfection. Judging by her current workplace, her intellect had no problems keeping pace either. Logan gave a polite smile and met Ryan’s mesmerizing eyes.
“Yeah, it sure has. How have you been?”
Ryan’s smile remained, but something subtle changed in her expression.
“Well, I wouldn’t want to lie to a friend. I’ve been a bit busy recently. Deadlines, disappointing results, and demanding superiors. You know how it can be. But anyways, I’m so glad you went out of your way to come here. I really appreciate it.”
Logan did expend quite some effort to get there. Scarce paid-time-off was spent from his job as an office clerk, not to mention the cost of a rental car and hotel. Still, it was a trip that he needed to take for his own sake, not just Ryan’s.
“It’s good to see you too. I can’t wait to see what you’ve been up to. Cured cancer or something?”
Ryan let out a little giggle that played like melodic birdsong in Logan’s ears.
“Well then, let me show you. Welcome to SynthraForma. I obviously can’t give you a full tour of the lab. In fact, even I don’t have access to everything, but I’ll show you what I can. Just a reminder, don’t breathe a word of this to anyone, okay? Not. A single. Breath.”
“Of course. My lips are sealed.”
Ryan accepted Logan’s promise and both of them entered the building. He stepped into a long hallway illuminated by harsh fluorescent lights. Before Logan could go anywhere, Ryan pointed towards a part of the wall next to the door. There was a plastic mount that held a stack of blank forms, a clipboard, and a pen on a string.
“Just a silly little NDA, for the suits and whatnot. Every visitor has to fill one out, but we don’t get that many visitors anyways.”
Logan gave it a quick skim before signing it, submitting the document in an empty slot clearly meant to receive them. Ryan then led him down the hallway. There were no windows inside, only heavy metal doors flanking them on both sides. Occasionally, there were laminated papers taped onto the walls, usually displaying some information or reminder for the employees.
Don’t hold doors open for others.
Keep your badge clearly visible at all times.
Thoroughly wash your hands before eating.
The potluck is this friday.
Finally, the two of them reached a door no different from the others. Ryan used her badge to unlock it and entered with Logan following behind. Now past three layers of security, Logan found himself in an unexpectedly mundane office. There were uniform cubicles to both sides, some with small decorations and knick knacks to add a splash of personality.
“These are our desks. It’s not glamorous, but most of our work happens here. Compiling data, writing reports, reading emails… Not very exciting, but it’s part of the job. This one is mine.”
Ryan’s desk had a computer like the others, with that addition of multiple stacks of books and papers, not to mention a couple of mugs with coffee stains. It looked like Ryan was about to say something, but someone else caught her attention. A woman was approaching them, dressed in the professional attire of a white button-up blouse and suit pants. She looked Asian, around her mid thirties, with light makeup and her hair in a bun. The authoritative click of her heels almost served as an introduction.
“Hello, you must be Ryan’s guest. I hope you don’t mind me interrupting your tour, I just need to have a little chat with Ryan if that’s okay.”
Her words were sharp and assertive, ensuring that no one would challenge them. Logan certainly didn’t want to at least.
“I don’t mind at all. I’m Logan. It’s a pleasure to meet you Miss…”
“Doctor. Doctor Li, SynthraForma research supervisor, pleased to meet you too Logan.”
“Anyways Ryan, I’ll make this quick. The deadline for your current project is coming up. I have great expectations of you, and I’ll make sure that your future assignments will reflect how well you perform here. I’m sure an incredible breakthrough is just on the horizon.”
Doctor Li left as quickly as she arrived, not waiting for Ryan to respond. Looking at Ryan, Logan could tell that she wasn’t particularly happy about her supervisor’s reminder. Her face didn’t give much away, but her silence and stiff body language gave it away. It took her a moment to compose herself, before she returned to Logan.
“I guess the tour wouldn’t be complete without an introduction to my kind and caring supervisor. Anyways, let’s get on with it.”
Ryan left her cubicle and promptly started walking again with Logan in tow. They reached another door that required Ryan’s badge. Logan noticed way more signage on this door than the ones before, being plastered with a variety of colorful symbols and labels warning about hazards of all kinds. Past the door, Logan saw a proper laboratory, filled with multitudes of complex-looking devices.
“Here on the left, high temperature superconductors.”
She carelessly gestured towards a workstation full of electronics, wires, and gas tanks of some kind.
Curiously, there was a plush of a squid on one of the workstation shelves. Ryan continued walking on without sparing a moment for Logan to really look.
“Over here on the right, artificial neural networks composed of lab-grown neurons.”
This workstation had a big microscope, with a collection of slides and plastic petri dishes next to it. Tons of papers, binders, and books filled this station out. Again, Ryan practically walked right past it, barely sparing the effort to mention it in her tour. This continued for the rest of the workstations until they reached the back of the lab.
“And here, in the back corner… my project… the slug project.”
Hypothesis
Ryan gestured to a small rectangular glass tank with some twigs and bedding. Logan had to lean in close to spot the first slug. It was an unremarkable little green thing, no different from something you’d find in somebody’s garden. Still though, being in this lab, there had to be more than met the eye. Or Ryan was pranking him.
Either way, Logan’s best choice was to play along.
“Interesting. What’s special about them?”
“These unassuming little blobs are a new species discovered in the Amazon. They were found in primate brains and initially mistaken for some sort of large parasitic worm. However, their biology and behavior is significantly different. A mature slug, ready to lay eggs, has the unique ability to enter a host’s brain without damaging the surrounding tissue, where it influences the host’s behavior. It compels the host to climb into the forest canopy, where it exits the host’s body and safely lays its eggs high up in the trees.”
Logan looked at the slugs again, watching as one lazily crawled on a leaf of lettuce. Brain slugs huh? It reminded him of something out of a sci-fi show, the image of a big green blob with a single eye coming to mind.
“The higher ups say that they’re interested in the mechanics of how it enters and exits the host's brain without damaging anything. They say that it could be a revolution in neurosurgery. But I think that we all know what really brings in all the funding. Mind control.”
Logan almost had to hold back a chuckle. It sounded more like the premise to a horror video game or movie, a cheap one at that.
Experimenting with mind control slugs? Logan was waiting for Ryan to tell the punch line at this point.
“We’ve studied their natural behavior and made significant progress. We’ve selectively bred them to trigger their ‘control’ behavior independent from their breeding cycle, and to extend that control duration. We’ve conducted limited human testing and confirmed compatibility and functionality as well.”
“Human testing?”
“Yes, of course. Given the premise of this project, it would be unavoidable, don't you think?”
Logan was able to avoid laughing out loud, but he couldn’t help a little grin. He was surprised by the matter-of-fact tone that Ryan was able to keep up. So she had tested these mind control slugs on people huh?
“Well, who’d you test this on?”
“For obvious reasons, I can’t discuss any of their identities, but they were all fully consenting individuals that were compensated for their involvement. Also, I should mention that I wasn’t working on this project during the period that these tests were conducted, so I had no direct involvement. I’ve only joined recently.”
Logan was a little confused by her response. That little fact at the end there didn’t seem to be a part of the joke, it seemed a little too realistic. The idea bothered Logan. Maybe she wasn’t joking. Maybe this was real. What kind of place was Ryan working at? Logan shifted to a more serious tone.
“Hold on. This whole slug thing. The human testing. Doesn’t that… I don’t know, concern you or something? Like, the stuff that you’re working on… this whole project seems…”
“Unethical? Inhuman? Evil? I certainly thought so too when I was first assigned, but the project’s current state is far from what it was in the past.”
Ryan picked up a spray bottle next to the tank, opened its lid, and spritzed some clear fluid around the enclosure before closing it again.
“Everything I told you about was done years ago. The project hit a wall. The slugs just couldn’t execute complex commands, only the most basic trained actions in response to verbal triggers. A far cry from mind control. Continued investments of time and resources yielded nothing, resulting in researchers and funding getting pulled. When I was assigned to this project, it was already dead and buried for a long time.”
Logan could see tints of frustration in Ryan. He had seen her get frustrated at hitches in experiments before, but this seemed like a deeper kind of frustration. She probably felt trapped with a project like this.
“Currently, most of my day-to-day is being a slug keeper. Moisturize the habitat at least twice a day, feed the slugs and replace the food before it rots, replace the soil every few weeks. I’m almost envious of Sisyphus, at least he got a boulder.”
“Sorry to hear that you’ve had it so rough. Maybe it would be a good idea to ask for a different project, or just leave all this behind and look for a different lab?”
“Oh believe me I’ve tried, but there are certain… factors… that prevent me from transfering projects. Leaving for another lab isn’t a good option either. No lab in this country can compare to SynthraForma’s. The resources and secrecy here are exactly what I need.”
Hmm… it seemed like Ryan was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Any choice would be a compromise, and a pretty lousy one at that. Watching Ryan’s expressions, Logan could tell she wasn’t happy about things, but she seemed to perk up as she continued speaking.
“It’s not all doom and gloom though, I have a plan. Imagine this. I succeed with this project out of nowhere. Why, news of such a miracle will go straight to the highest executives. They’ll hear that little ol’ me, a single researcher with no support, managed to break through an impenetrable wall that defeated the best of the best. I’ll get the recognition I deserve and free reign to work on what I want.”
Logan could see a flame burning within Ryan, a determination that pushed her forward.
Instead of admitting defeat, she was fighting harder than ever before. Logan was worried that Ryan was feeling down, maybe searching for solace or even pity, but those worries were cleared by her display of brash, unashamed confidence. He almost wanted to start applauding her.
“I’m glad that you’ve got a goal to aim for, but how’re you gonna do it?”
Ryan cracked a mischievous smile, giving Logan a look that sent a little shiver down his back. He knew that look. Oh, he knew that look. Trouble was coming.
Method
Well Logan, my good friend, that’s where you come in! I have an idea, a theory, a breakthrough! The main problem is the slugs’ lack of cognitive ability. Well it just so happens that one of my colleagues is working on a neuron growth promoter, top secret of course. Normally I wouldn’t have access, but let’s just say that I helped with his homework and he’s helping with mine.”
Ryan nodded towards a small glass vial nearby the slug tank. That must be the neuron growth stuff.
“Unfortunately, that alone would only produce slugs that are better at being slugs. Not exactly what we need. It would require far too much training to reach the levels needed for true mind control. That’s where another little gadget comes in.”
Ryan gestured towards something else near the tank. It looked like a bundle of multi-colored wires, each wire connected to a small device that had a suction cup.
“This is a prototype electroencephalogram, or EEG. It detects electrical activity within your brain, amplifies it, and sends it to the target. I’m sure you’re catching onto my idea now. We’ll be sending your brainwaves into a slug injected with the neural growth promoter. This external stimulation combined with the neuron growth will potentially create neural pathways within the slug that mirror yours.”
Logan took a moment to let things sink in. Ryan had conducted plenty of wild experiments in high school, Logan being intimately involved in most of them. All of them were attempts at something never done before, but at least they were somewhat based in reality. This experiment seemed to jump over that line and land fully into the territory of fantasy and madness. Combining all this experimental tech in an attempt to create mind controlling slugs? This had to be desperation more than anything else.
“Why’s it gotta be my brain waves? You’re the most intelligent person I know, so wouldn’t your brain waves be better?”
“Thanks, but if I could do this alone, I would have. The slugs wouldn’t just mirror the intelligence of the donor, but also their traits. I wouldn’t describe myself as particularly obedient, so it would be a big problem if the slugs mirrored me. You, on the other hand, have always been very… generous and helpful. I couldn’t think of a better person to ask.”
Logan wasn’t quite happy about being called generous and helpful in this context. He could tell that she really meant obedient, willing to make a fool of himself for her sake. In high school, Ryan always took advantage of Logan’s affection for her, and he gratefully allowed it. Anything to get the girl right? Well, it didn’t end up that way. He assisted Ryan in many of her experiments, sometimes to his detriment.
There were lots of reasons and rationalizations.
Teenage hormones, desperately avoiding loneliness, a dose of simple adolescent stupidity, all things that Logan told himself he completely left behind in the past. Reflecting on it over the years after graduation, he vowed to never allow himself to be taken advantage of like that again. Yet here he was, having his resolve put to the test.
Ryan could tell that Logan was deliberating. There was a possibility that he’d make the wrong choice. She leaned a little closer to him, looking up with a gentle expression.
“Please? I’m in a real tough spot here, and I could really use some help. Please Logan?”
Logan kept his expression stern as he gazed upon Ryan’s fragile beauty, looking into her pleading eyes. It wasn’t the first time that she’d used this trick. In high school, this was her ace-in-the-hole to convince Logan against his better judgment. And it worked every time. Logan let out a little sigh as he relaxed a little. It couldn’t hurt to get some more info right?
“What are the risks?”
Ryan broke into a smile, happy to hear that her faithful assistant was still her’s.
“None, absolutely none. You just put on the EEG’s electrodes and they’ll record everything that we need. No risks at all.”
Logan kept his expression even as he made his choice. He looked at Ryan again, searching for any indication of a lie or half-truth. She looked genuine, a real friend in need. Well, there really was no choice. To refuse at this point would be cruel. Logan hoped this wouldn’t end poorly.
“Okay, I’ll do it.”
“Thank you. This means the world to me. I’ll make it up to you later, but let’s begin the experiment as soon as possible.”
Ryan pulled up a chair for Logan, indicating to take a seat. She then grabbed a petri dish, went over to the slug tank with a pair of tongs, and carefully lifted a wiggly green critter onto the dish. She set it near Logan, and he glanced over. It almost felt like the slug was looking back at him with its little antennae.
It took a while, but eventually every single one of the numerous electrodes were attached to Logan’s head. Each electrode connected to a wire, all of which met in a braid that connected to a small device. The small metal box was connected to Ryan’s lab computer, and also had another side where a smaller braid of wires exited. Those tiny wires went over to the slug, where they connected to miniature electrodes that were placed all over the slug’s body.
“Alright, checks done, double checks done. I think we’re ready to go. Hanging in there
Logan?”
Logan had tried his best to keep still while the electrodes were put on him, as if he was getting a haircut. He also made an effort to avoid staring at Ryan as she worked. He didn’t want to creep her out or make things awkward, but for him, she was the only thing worth looking at in this lab. The way that her white lab coat contoured over her perfect figure, the way she moved around him, the view of her chest when she put the electrodes on his head…
“Yeah, I’m fine. Ready to go.”
“Okay, perfect. Then let’s begin the experiment.”
Ryan went back to the tank and took the vial of neuron growth promoter along with a syringe. Logan watched as she carefully measured out a dosage. After loading the syringe, Ryan carefully injected its contents into the slug. She then returned to her computer.
“Let’s hope for the best.”
With that, she activated the EEG. The device began to record Logan’s brain waves, sending them into the slug. Logan didn’t feel anything different on his end. The slug seemed fine too. Ryan turned a tablet screen towards Logan and started to play a video. It showed a slideshow of various things, ranging from apples to horses to people to mountains and much more. The video was supposed to help Logan’s brain stay active and somewhat direct the learning for the slug.
“Okay, everything looks good. It’ll be a few hours, but I’ll be here with you. If anything happens, let me know immediately. Again, I just want to say thanks for your help, I really appreciate it.”
“Yeah, of course. Anything for you.”
Experiment
The first ten minutes were fine. Just look at the pictures and videos on the tablet, easy right?
The next ten minutes were the toughest. Logan had to stay disciplined, forcing himself to sit still and keep watching. Every image that appeared on the tablet blended and blurred with the last. Logan even found it difficult to keep his eyes focussed.
Another ten minutes later, Logan managed to fall into a sustainable rhythm of sorts, and wasn’t struggling as much. He started playing a little mental game with the images, trying to improvise a story with each object that popped up on the tablet screen.
The man in a black suit… went to the windmill?
And in the windmill he… found a flock of sheep. Okay, so he was actually a manager for the mill, and the sheep were workers on a break. As a reward for hard work, the manager gave each of them a… butterknife? Woah, okay, so the manager was actually inciting the sheep to revolt against their oppressors. The oppressors that were forcing the sheep to work were… mongooses… mongeese?
The story unfurled itself, on and on, sometimes needing the occasional reset. Logan did his best to keep his neurons activated for this experiment. He kept going and going and going, persevering and relentless. To his credit, he managed to keep his focus most of the time, but as the process dragged on, his focus wavered more and more. The ideas were less creative, the mental image grew blurry, and the plot moved slower. Logan tried to pull himself back into the groove, but his descent was inevitable at this point. His mind grew dimmer and dimmer, a dark fog growing thicker and more impenetrable until the last candle flame of thought flickered out, and nothing remained.
…
…
…
Ryan checked up on Logan, looking over at him slightly slumped in his chair. His head was slightly tilted to the side and his eyes were closed. Must’ve dozed off. She had already noticed that Logan was struggling to stay awake for some time. Unfortunately, any stimulant like coffee could affect the experiment, so Ryan would have to wake him up everytime he nodded off.
Ryan got up and walked over to Logan, shaking him by the shoulder.
“Logan? Logan wake up.”
No response. She shook him harder. Nothing. She lightly tapped him on the cheek. Still nothing. She carefully opened his eyelid. Logan’s eye blankly stared back at her. Ryan felt a wave of dread flood through her. Logan? Logan!
…
…
…
Ryan had done everything that she could. Logan was unconscious when she found him. She had immediately called for help, and he was rushed to the hospital by paramedics. She was in shock. What happened? What caused this? Was it the experiment? Impossible. But the timing… Healthy young men like him don’t just… stop, not like this.
Ryan knew that she was screwed. Even if it somehow wasn’t her fault, there was no way that SynthraForma would overlook all the attention she was bringing in.
Ryan sat in her little corner of the lab, feeling hollowed out like an empty shell. Her eyes drifted to Logan’s empty chair. He was just there, not long ago, healthy and energetic.
The prototype EEG laid on the floor nearby, still in the same place that it landed after
Ryan had yanked it off of Logan’s head when trying to wake him. Ryan knew that the prototype EEG and neuron growth promoter would cast a lot of suspicion on the situation, but hiding or destroying evidence would practically be an admission of guilt. Ryan knew that there was a good chance that the experiment had nothing to do with Logan’s sudden decline, and that it was just a coincidence. But there was no way for her to know. She’d have to wait to hear from the hospital, or the police.
While Ryan was sitting, sorting through her thoughts, her supervisor Doctor Li showed up.
“I’m sure you’re shaken by all of this. Go home. I’ll give you a call if we need anything from you. Don’t even think about coming to work until you’ve fully recovered from this shocking incident, okay?”
Ryan didn’t want to respond, she didn’t even make eye contact. She just continued sitting with her head hung as Doctor Li promptly left. When Ryan heard the sound of the lab door closing, she raised her head. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the tank of slugs. A sudden rush of heat filled her body as she felt a fierce hatred towards them. Stupid fucking slugs! She wanted to get a hammer and smash the tank, crushing the pathetic little bastards.
But she restrained herself. She just glared at them, cursing their very existence. Freaks of nature. She got up from her seat, deciding that the privacy of her apartment would indeed be better than sulking in the lab. She reached over and grabbed her white lab coat. She had taken it off earlier while trying to help Logan.
Ryan stuck her left arm through its sleeve before draping it over her back and filling out the other sleeve. As she left the lab, Ryan was completely unaware of the little green hitchhiker in her lab coat’s pocket.
Recalibration
Dark…
Familiar… smell… Rough… all over…
Where…?
…
Hungry…
Move…
Need to move…
That way…
…
In the darkest hours of the night, a little green slug crawled out of a lab coat pocket thrown on top of a laundry basket. Confused and disoriented, it did the only thing that it could, follow its instincts.
Delicate slivers of moonlight leaked through the thin blinds of the bedroom. The room wasn’t particularly messy or clean, just lived-in. There were two beds opposite to each other in this small space. The plucky little slug crawled along the floor, inch by inch, towards the bed on the right.
Progress was slow, but steady. A few inches every minute. The slug finally reached the foot of the bed and began its journey upwards. It climbed against gravity, leaving a shiny trail of slime behind on the wood. After a few minutes, the unyielding green spelunker reached the top of the bed, where a sleeping beauty lay enveloped in a peaceful slumber. Her chest periodically rose and fell as silent breaths came and went.
The slug continued, crawling onto the sheets of the bed, eventually making its way onto the pillow. The slug’s small, pulsating body made the insidious last legs of its journey as it aimed for a small opening.
The slug touched the sleeping woman’s skin, feeling her warmth as it began to climb the side of her neck. She didn’t even stir. The slug climbed closer, closer, until it reached… the entrance. The slug dipped itself into her ear, pushing its head in and quickly filling the small tunnel’s width. The slug squeezed its malleable body into the small space, crawling deeper and deeper and deeper…
The woman stirred a little. A small readjustment of the body in response to mild discomfort. A light groan escaped her lips, as if she was just having a bad dream. There was no way to know that something was entering her… invading her… burrowing deep deep inside. She would undoubtedly panic if she was awake, if she knew what was happening to her, but it was just the slug’s luck that she was deep asleep, that she was defenseless.
Deep inside her head, the slug finally felt… satisfaction. It had reached its destination. Now, it could rest, just for a little. The woman’s body settled back down, returning to its restful state. Her breathing returned to a slow, rhythmic rise and fall of her chest. The only thing amiss was a small trail of dried slug fluid.
Hasti adjusted the rearview mirror of her parked car, glancing at her reflection. Dark waves framed her face, her lips glossed and eyes lined with kohl—effortless, striking. But she wasn’t admiring herself tonight; she was strategizing. The glowing neon sign of The Blue Note Lounge flickered across the street, pulsing with the bass of loud music and laughter. Inside, the kind of girls who never got overlooked were already laughing too loudly at boys who wouldn’t give Hasti a second look if she walked in as herself.
But she wasn’t planning to walk in as herself.
She exhaled, squared her shoulders, and closed her eyes. A tingling sensation rippled down her spine, the familiar pull of separation as her spirit lifted free from her body. She glanced back—her physical form slumped slightly against the seat, limp as a doll. Vulnerable. But she couldn’t think about that now.
Hasti’s spirit drifted through the car door and across the street, passing effortlessly through the crowded bar. Bodies pulsed to the rhythm of the music, conversations blurring into white noise. Then she spotted her target: a tall blonde with sharp cheekbones and legs that seemed to stretch for miles. She was leaning against the bar, tossing her hair over her shoulder while some frat-boy type grinned at her like she’d hung the moon. Perfect.
Hasti floated closer. The girl—Alyssa, according to the bartender’s greeting—was sipping a cocktail, oblivious to the spirit hovering inches from her. With a deep breath (or the ghost of one), Hasti reached out, pressing ethereal fingers to Alyssa’s forehead. A sharp tug, and—
The blonde’s body stiffened for a second before slumping forward, her spirit peeling free like mist from water. Hasti guided the empty shell of Alyssa’s consciousness to hover near the ceiling, where it drifted lazily in dreamless suspension. Then, without hesitation, she stepped into the body.
Warmth. Weight. The sudden rush of sensation—tight fabric hugging curves, the chill of air conditioning on bare arms, the thrum of bass vibrating through high heels. Hasti flexed Alyssa’s fingers, rolled the unfamiliar shoulders, and grinned.
The frat boy blinked. “You good?”
Hasti tossed Alyssa’s hair—her hair now—and smirked. “Better than good.”
His smile widened. Finally, someone who looked at her like that.
All part of the plan.
Hasti—now in Alyssa’s tall, blonde, effortlessly desired body—flashed another dazzling smile at the guy in front of her. God, this is easy.
"Another drink?" he asked, already flagging down the bartender. His name was Jake, according to the stupidly expensive watch on his wrist and the way he kept mentioning his dad’s law firm.
She let out a practiced laugh, leaning in just enough to let him catch a whiff of Alyssa’s vanilla perfume. "Only if you’re having one with me."
Jake beamed, like she’d just handed him the keys to the city. "Hell yeah."
As they clinked glasses, Hasti couldn’t help but marvel at how different this was from her usual nights out. Back in Chicago, she’d been the queen of the scene—hips swaying, eyes locking, men tripping over themselves to get her attention. But here in Nashville? In her body? She might as well have been invisible. Their loss, she thought, taking a sip of the too-sweet cocktail.
The rest of the night played out like something out of a movie—Jake’s hands occasionally grazing her waist, his friends hyping him up like he’d just won the lottery, the bartender sliding them free shots when the crowd got rowdy. Hasti let herself enjoy it all—the way heads turned when she walked by, the way Jake’s voice got lower and slower the more he drank, the warmth of being wanted without having to try so damn hard.
By closing time, Jake was whispering against her ear, lips brushing her neck as he murmured, "You should come back to my place."
Hasti grinned. Oh, I could. She could take Alyssa’s body back to his apartment, let him peel that tight dress off her, do all the things she knew he’d never consider doing with her real self.
But then she glanced at the clock above the bar. Two hours—her limit before Alyssa’s drifting spirit might start getting restless. And as much as she loved the game, she wasn’t reckless enough to test her own limits.
She feigned disappointment, running freshly French-tipped nails along his bicep. "Rain check, Jake. Early morning."
He pouted, but she kissed his cheek before he could protest—lingering just enough to leave him wanting more—and sauntered toward the ladies' room. Locked in a stall, she closed Alyssa’s eyes, exhaled, and—
Pop. as she left Alyssa's body and saw her body slump over. She floated back to the middle of the bar and grabbed Alyssa's spirit from the ceiling, dragging it back to the bathroom and gently guiding her spirit back into it's body. Then she flew back to her car.
Back in her own body, still tucked safely in her car. She stretched, shaking off the lingering thrill, and glanced in the mirror. Dark eyes stared back at her, familiar and fierce.
Damn, that was fun.
Hasti checked her phone—no missed calls, no emergencies. Nobody had even noticed her empty shell just sitting there. A perfect night, no complications.
As she started the engine, she smirked. "Same time next week?" she said to herself as she went home to get sleep and prepare for the work day ahead.
-
The next morning, Hasti leaned back in her office chair, twirling a pen between her fingers as she stared at her computer screen. The glow of spreadsheets and project deadlines made her eyes ache, but at least her cubicle in the marketing department gave her some privacy. Corporate life. She sighed. If her coworkers knew half the things she did on weekends, they’d probably faint.
A knock on the cubicle wall made her jump.
"You zoning out again?"
Maggie, her work bestie—curly red hair, freckles, and a perpetual coffee cup in hand—peeked in with a smirk. "I’ve been calling your name for, like, a full minute."
Hasti blinked, then laughed. "Sorry, just strategizing."
"Oh, for work?" Maggie wiggled her eyebrows. "Or for your mysterious Friday night plans?"
Maggie was the only one at the office who knew Hasti had something wild going on—just not the specifics. She thought it was secret Tinder dates.
Hasti smirked. "Wouldn’t you like to know?"
Maggie groaned. "Ugh, you’re the worst." She plopped down in the spare chair, kicking her feet up. "Fine, keep your secrets. But you are coming to drinks with me and Layla tonight, right? No ‘emergencies,’ no disappearing acts?"
Hasti hesitated. "Depends. Where are we going?"
"The Foxglove—that new rooftop bar downtown. Super bougie."
Her pulse quickened. Bars meant potential new "hosts" for her little astral vacations. But she promised herself that she would only project once or twice a week, and only if it was a Friday or Saturday night. She still needed to spend time with her friends however, or they'd start thinking she didn't like them. After considerate, she relented. "Yeah, I’m in."
Maggie squealed. "Finally! Maybe you'll actually stay for once."
-
The Foxglove was everything Maggie had promised—glamorous, crowded, and pulsing with energy. Twinkling lights strung across the rooftop terrace cast a golden glow over the sleek marble bar, while the Nashville skyline glittered beyond the glass railing. The air smelled like expensive perfume and citrus-infused cocktails.
Hasti adjusted the strap of her little black dress as she followed Maggie and Layla to a high-top table near the edge. Layla—Maggie’s bubbly roommate—immediately flagged down a server and ordered a round of martinis without even glancing at the menu.
"So, how’s life in the marketing trenches?" Layla asked, leaning in conspiratorially. "Anyone’s soul crushed yet this week?"
Maggie groaned. "Don’t even get me started. Johnson emailed me again about the ‘brand synergy’ report like it’s not literally the most meaningless document in existence."
Hasti laughed, letting the familiar rhythm of their banter wash over her. For once, she wasn’t scanning the room for potential hosts, wasn’t plotting where she’d stash her body while her spirit slipped free. Tonight was just drinks. Just friends.
"And you," Layla pointed at Hasti, a playful accusation in her eyes. "Spill. Why do we never see you anymore? Are you secretly married? In witness protection?"
Hasti rolled her eyes, swirling her martini. "Please. Like I could keep a husband quiet."
Maggie snorted into her drink. "True. You’d be texting us every five minutes complaining about his socks on the floor."
The conversation flowed, effortlessly pulling Hasti in. They gossiped about coworkers, debated which downtown restaurant had the best tacos (Layla insisted it was the food truck by the park; Maggie swore by the overpriced fusion place), and laughed until Hasti’s cheeks hurt. For a dizzying hour, she almost forgot about astral projection altogether.
Until she saw her.
Across the rooftop, perched on a velvet lounge chair like she owned the place, was a girl with porcelain skin, cascading honey-blonde waves, and a laugh that carried like wind chimes. The kind of girl who made heads turn without trying—exactly the sort Hasti would have loved to borrow for an evening.
A familiar itch prickled under her skin.
No. Not tonight.
She forced her gaze back to Maggie, who was mid-story about her disastrous attempt at online dating. "—and then he actually said, ‘I don’t usually go for redheads, but—’"
"Ugh, men," Layla groaned, throwing a napkin at her. "Why are they like this?"
Hasti half-listened, her fingers tapping restlessly against her glass. The blonde girl was sipping champagne now, surrounded by a group of adoring guys hanging onto her every word. One of them leaned in, whispering something that made her giggle, and Hasti could practically feel the effortless power she carried.
It would be so easy. Just a quick trip to the bathroom, a momentary disconnect, and—
"Earth to Hasti." Maggie snapped her fingers. "You okay?"
Hasti blinked. "Yeah. Yeah, totally." She plastered on a smile. "Just got distracted by… the view."
Layla followed her gaze to the blonde and smirked. "Ohhh, I see. Someone’s got a girl crush."
Hasti laughed, forcing herself to relax into her seat. "Hardly. Just appreciating aesthetics."
But the temptation hummed in the back of her mind like a song stuck on repeat.
Not tonight, she reminded herself firmly. Tonight is for real life.
She picked up her drink and clinked it against Maggie’s. "To not letting Johnson ruin our will to live."
Maggie grinned. "Amen to that."
Hasti exhaled, pushing aside the lingering urge. Tonight, she’d stay present. At least that's what she told herself for about 2 minutes.
Hasti's gaze drifted past the rooftop lights, landing on him. Tall, tousled dark hair, a crooked smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes as he joked with his friends. He had the kind of confidence that wasn't loud—just effortless, like he didn't need to prove a damn thing. And the way his dress shirt clung to his shoulders? Damn.
"Oh. Ohhh no," Maggie drawled, snapping her fingers in front of Hasti’s face. "I know that look. You’re into him."
Layla twisted in her seat, scanning the crowd. "Which one? Wait—black shirt, stupidly good jawline?”
Hasti groaned into her drink. “It doesn’t matter. Guys like that don’t—”
“Don’t what?” Maggie challenged. “Don’t date gorgeous, hilarious women with the most iconic cheekbones in Nashville?”
Hasti swirled her martini, her voice lowering. “Don’t date brown girls. Not here.” The words tasted bitter, but it was the truth. She’d seen it a hundred times—guys like him lighting up for blondes, for petite girls with freckles and doe eyes, while she faded into the background no matter how tight her dress was.
Layla slammed her glass down. “Bullshit. Go talk to him.”
“What’s the point?”
“The point,” Maggie said, leaning in, “is that you never let them win. Walk over there like you own the air he’s breathing. And if he’s stupid enough to not see it? His loss.”
Hasti chewed her lip. The temptation to slip into someone else’s body—someone palatable to guys like him—flared again. But tonight wasn’t about shortcuts.
“Fine,” she muttered, tossing back the rest of her drink for courage. “But if this goes south, I’m blaming you for peer pressure.”
Layla grinned. “Deal.”
Hasti willed her pulse to settle as she approached his table. “Hey,” she said, aiming for casual but landing somewhere between confident and please-don’t-make-this-awkward. “I’m Hasti.”
The guy—Ethan, his friend supplied—turned, his smile polite but distracted. “Hey.”
She kept her chin up, her body language loose like this didn’t matter. “You in town for work, or…?”
“Yeah, finance,” he said, glancing past her toward the bar. Then, after a beat, he added, “Look, you seem cool, but—”
She already knew.
“But I’m not your type,” she finished, her voice steady.
His cheeks flushed. “It’s not—I mean, you’re gorgeous, just not—”
“Yeah. Got it.” She forced a smile. “Thanks for being honest.”
She walked away before he could stammer out another empty compliment.
“Asshole,” Layla declared the second Hasti slumped back into her seat.
Hasti shrugged, reaching for Maggie’s untouched shot of tequila. “At least he didn’t lead me on.”
Maggie snatched the shot back, sliding a fresh one toward her instead. “His loss. And now?” She pushed the salt and lime toward Hasti. “We drink to trash men and better prospects.”
“To better prospects,” Layla echoed, clinking her glass to Hasti’s.
The tequila burned, but the warmth in her chest wasn’t just from the alcohol. It was from Maggie’s arm slung around her shoulders, from Layla’s dramatic retelling of her worst rejection (“He said I looked ‘too exotic’—what does that even mean?!”), from the certainty that tonight, at least, she wasn’t alone.
Hasti licked the salt from her lips, grinning. “Next round’s on me. And if Ethan over there looks this way?”
“He’ll wish he was your type,” Maggie finished.
Hasti laughed, tossing her hair. Damn right.
The night blurred into laughter and too many tequila shots, the sting of rejection dulled by the warmth of good liquor and even better friends. Hasti leaned against the rooftop railing, the neon glow of downtown smudging in her vision. Maggie was mid-sentence—something scandalous about her boss’s secret affair—when Hasti’s gaze snagged on the exit across the terrace.
There they were.
Ethan—Mr. Not My Type—was slipping his arm around that honey-blonde girl’s waist, whispering something in her ear that made her toss her hair and giggle. The girl pressed into him like she’d known him for years instead of hours, her manicured fingers curling possessively around his bicep.
Hasti’s grip tightened around her empty glass.
"Ohhh no," Layla murmured, following her stare. "Don’t even look at them."
Hasti didn’t reply. The tequila was a hot, liquid defiance in her veins, and suddenly, she was done. "I’m tired of this," she muttered.
"Tired of what?" Maggie hooked an arm through hers, trying to steer her away.
"This!" Hasti gestured wildly toward the happy couple disappearing into the elevator. "I could’ve been fun. I could’ve been amazing. But he didn’t even try to see it—none of them ever do!"
Layla squeezed her shoulder. "Then he’s an idiot."
Hasti scoffed. "No, he’s typical." The words spilled out, sharp with liquor and frustration. "And I’m sick of pretending it’s fine. Sick of being overlooked. Sick of watching guys like him fall all over girls like that when I’m right here."
Her friends exchanged a glance. "Okay," Maggie said carefully, "let’s get you home before you incinerate someone with your eyes."
Hasti let them tug her toward the exit, but her mind was already racing. Ethan and Blondie were probably headed to some bougie afterparty, some dim-lit bedroom where he’d worship her in ways Hasti wouldn’t even get the chance to experience.
Not in her own skin, anyway.
The thought hit like lightning.
"Bathroom," Hasti announced abruptly, pulling free. "One sec."
She didn’t wait for their protests. The second she was locked in a stall, she braced her hands on the sink, staring at her reflection—flushed cheeks, smudged eyeliner, the fire in her own dark eyes.
She could go home. She could let this night be another anecdote for Maggie and Layla to laugh about later.
Or.
A slow, wicked smile tugged at her lips.
She closed her eyes.
And let her spirit slip free.....
The hallway outside the bathroom was empty. Hasti’s spectral form darted past oblivious bartenders and stumbling drunk girls until she found them—Ethan and Blondie, waiting for the elevator, his hands already under her jacket.
Hasti hovered behind them, revenge sweet on her tongue.
With a deep breath, she reached out. Her fingers—ghostly, but firm—gripped the blonde’s shoulder.
A sharp tug.
The girl slumped forward, her consciousness lifting away like smoke. Ethan frowned, steadying her limp body. "Babe? You okay?"
Hasti didn’t hesitate. She stepped in.
Blonde hair. Pink lips. Long legs. Skin that Nashville adored without question.
When she opened her eyes, Ethan’s face melted into relief. "There you are."
Hasti—no, Aubrey, according to the ID in her clutch—smiled. "Here I am."
And when his lips met hers, she kissed him back, savoring the irony.
Ethan’s mouth was warm, insistent—the kind of kiss that probably made most girls melt. But Hasti (currently piloting Aubrey’s stolen body) felt nothing but burning satisfaction.
Here he is, so eager for a girl who’s basically a mannequin right now.
She let the kiss deepen for exactly three seconds—long enough to really sell it—then abruptly pulled back.
“Wait, what—” Ethan started, eyes dazed.
Hasti smirked. “Oops. Forgot something.”
And then she kneed him square in the crotch.
Ethan doubled over with a strangled “Guh—!”, his face turning a spectacular shade of purple as he crumpled against the elevator doors.
“Asshole,” Hasti hissed in Aubrey’s voice, smoothing down the girl’s short skirt. “Hope that stings all night.”
She left him wheezing on the floor and marched straight to the ladies’ room. Behind the locked stall door, she exhaled and let Aubrey’s consciousness slip back into place, guiding it gently like tucking a sleeping child into bed.
The blonde girl blinked, swaying slightly as she glanced around the bathroom, confused but unharmed. “What the… did I black out?” she muttered, touching her lips like she’d missed something.
Hasti’s spirit zipped back to her own body—still slumped in the bathroom stall—and gasped, her eyes snapping open. Her reflection stared back at her, grinning like a cat who got the cream. The tequila haze hit her full-force, but the giddy thrill of payback was stronger. She checked her reflection, wiped the smudged eyeliner, and strutted out to meet her friends.
"Oh my God, Hasti!" Maggie practically tackled her the second she stepped out of the bathroom. "You missed the best part!"
Layla was wheezing, clutching her stomach. "That blonde girl—the one you were just talking about? She knee’d that guy in the dick."
Maggie mimed an explosion with her hands. "Like, full-on ends of the earth devastation. He looked like he was gonna puke."
Hasti pressed a hand to her chest, feigning shock. "Really? But they seemed so perfect for each other."
Layla dabbed at her smudged eyeliner, still laughing. "Turns out Aubrey"—she said the name like it was a punchline—has standards. King Dickhead got exactly what he deserved."**
Hasti looped her arms through theirs as they stumbled toward the exit, the night air cool on her flushed skin. "Karma’s a beautiful thing," she sighed, grinning.
"Preach," Maggie said, raising an imaginary toast.
And as they spilled onto the sidewalk, laughing under the city lights, Hasti decided something: maybe she didn’t need to borrow anyone’s body to feel powerful.
But damn, it sure was fun.
And as they piled into an Uber, giddy and triumphant, she didn’t even glance back at the club—or the blonde girl now glaring at a still-wincing Ethan.
Some victories were sweeter in silence.
Chapter 1: Backstory
The sun hung high over the quiet suburban neighborhood of Willow Creek, casting a golden haze over manicured lawns and white picket fences that seemed frozen in time. It was the kind of place where everyone knew everyone's business, but no one ever admitted it-secrets simmered beneath the surface like the humid Texas air in mid-July. John Thompson, an 18-year-old fresh out of high school, wiped the sweat from his brow as he pushed the old lawnmower across Jessica's expansive front yard. The machine's rumble drowned out the distant chirp of cicadas, and the scent of freshly cut grass mixed with the faint floral perfume wafting from the nearby rose bushes Jessica so meticulously tended.
John had been helping out both families for years now-his own and the neighboring one headed by Jessica and her daughter Summer. It started as odd jobs to earn pocket money: mowing lawns, fixing fences, even helping with groceries when Heather, his step-mom, was swamped with her part-time job at the local boutique. Heather had married John's dad when John was just a kid, but after his dad passed away five years ago from a sudden heart attack, it had been just the three of them: Heather, John, and Amy-Heather's biological daughter from her first marriage. Amy was 20 now, home from college for the summer, and she treated John like the annoying little brother he sometimes felt he was.
But Summer, oh, Summer was different. She'd been Amy's best friend since middle school, the kind of girl who turned heads without even trying. John had nursed a crush on her for as long as he could remember-those stolen glances during family barbecues, the way her laughter echoed like music when she and Amy gossiped in the backyard. She was 20 now too, taller than most girls at 5'10", with a lithe, athletic build from years of volleyball, sun-kissed blonde hair that cascaded in waves down her back, and a bust that filled out her tops in a way that made John's heart race. Her mom, Jessica, was the stuff of local legend-the town's ultimate MILF at 46, with platinum blonde locks, a curvy figure boasting a generous D-cup bust, and legs that seemed to go on forever. She owned a small yoga studio downtown, which kept her toned and flexible, and her flirtatious smile had broken more than a few hearts.
John paused the mower to chug from his water bottle, his t-shirt clinging to his lean, teenage frame. He wasn't unattractive-tallish at 5'11", with messy brown hair and a boyish charm-but he felt invisible next to the likes of Summer. "Just finish this up," he muttered to himself, wiping his face with the hem of his shirt. That's when he heard the car pull into the driveway.
The sleek SUV doors opened, and out stepped Summer, looking every bit the college bombshell in cutoff denim shorts that hugged her firm ass and a crop top that revealed a sliver of toned midriff. Her bigger bust-easily an E-cup-strained against the fabric, bouncing slightly as she slung her duffel bag over her shoulder. "John? Is that you?" she called out, her voice bright and melodic, waving enthusiastically.
John's heart skipped a beat. He killed the mower's engine, suddenly hyper-aware of how sweaty and disheveled he looked-grass clippings stuck to his sneakers, beads of perspiration dripping down his neck. "Uh, hey, Summer! Welcome home!" He tried to play it cool, but his voice cracked just a little.
She dropped her bag and bounded over, enveloping him in a tight hug before he could protest. Her body pressed against his-soft, warm, and smelling faintly of vanilla and sunscreen. He could feel the swell of her breasts against his chest, the curve of her hips brushing his, and for a split second, his mind blanked. "It's so good to see you! You've gotten taller or something," she laughed, pulling back but keeping her hands on his arms. Her blue eyes sparkled with genuine warmth.
John's face flushed crimson. "Y-yeah, maybe. Sorry, I'm all sweaty and gross. Wasn't expecting, you know." He gestured vaguely at himself, inwardly cursing his awkwardness. God, she looks incredible, he thought. Even better than I remembered. Those lips, that smile, what I wouldn't give to just...
Summer giggled, tilting her head. "Aw, don't worry about it. You're doing us a huge favor with the lawn. Mom's been raving about how helpful you've been." She glanced back at the house, where Jessica was unloading more bags, her own figure poured into yoga pants and a tank top that accentuated her ample cleavage. Jessica caught John's eye and waved with a wink, her blonde hair catching the light like a halo.
John opened his mouth to reply, but words failed him. Summer's proximity was overwhelming-her scent, her touch, the way her top rode up just enough to show a hint of underboob. He stood there, dumbstruck, his brain short-circuiting as he imagined what it would be like to hold her, to kiss her, to explore every inch of her perfect body. "I, uh, yeah, no problem," he finally stammered, stepping back awkwardly.
Summer smiled sympathetically, picking up her bag. "Well, catch you later? Amy and I are planning a pool day soon- you should join!" With that, she sauntered off, her hips swaying in a way that made John's knees weak.
He watched her go, his mind reeling. How does she do that? Just exist and make everything else fade away? Shaking his head, he restarted the mower, but his thoughts lingered on her-the crush that had only grown stronger over the years.
Later that afternoon, after finishing up and heading home, John bumped into Amy in the kitchen. She was perched on the counter, scrolling through her phone, her brunette hair tied back in a ponytail. Amy took after Heather-modest but attractive, with a fit body from her college track team, perky C-cup breasts, and a girl-next-door vibe. At 20, she was confident and teasing, especially with her little step-brother.
"Hey, loser," she said without looking up, popping a grape into her mouth. "Heard you were over at Jessica's. See Summer yet?"
John grabbed a soda from the fridge, trying to act nonchalant. "Yeah, she just got home. Hugged me and everything." He couldn't help the grin that crept onto his face.
Amy finally glanced at him, smirking. "Ooh, a hug? Careful, John, you might actually talk to a girl for once." She hopped down, nudging him playfully. "Seriously, though, when are you gonna get a girlfriend? You're 18 now-high school's over. You can't just mope around playing video games all summer."
John rolled his eyes, but her words stung a bit. "I'm not moping. Just, busy helping out. And who says I need a girlfriend right now?"
Amy laughed, ruffling his hair. "Come on, make some friends at least. Hit up the beach, the mall-anything. Summer's single, you know. But you'd have to actually, like, speak in full sentences around her."
If only it were that easy, John thought, his mind flashing back to the hug. She's way out of my league. But god, what I wouldn't do to be closer to her... "Yeah, yeah. I'll think about it."
The conversation fizzled as Amy headed upstairs, leaving John to ponder her advice. Dinner that evening was a typical affair-Heather had whipped up a simple pasta dish, her brunette hair pulled back, her modest blouse and jeans hugging her still-fit 45-year-old figure. Heather was classically attractive: soft curves, a B-cup bust that she carried with quiet confidence, and warm brown eyes that always seemed to know more than she let on. She was the glue holding the family together, working her boutique job while keeping the house running smoothly.
They ate at the kitchen table, chatting about mundane things-Amy's college stories, John's lawn-mowing adventures, Heather's latest customer drama. "John, sweetie, thanks for helping Jessica out today," Heather said, smiling across the table. "You're turning into quite the responsible young man."
John shrugged, blushing slightly. "No big deal, Mom." The meal wrapped up normally, with everyone retreating to their own spaces: Amy to her room for a video call with friends, Heather to the living room with a book, and John upstairs to his bedroom.
He locked the door behind him, flopping onto his bed with a sigh. The room was a typical teenage haven-posters of video games and bands on the walls, a cluttered desk with his laptop, and a faint scent of Axe body spray. But tonight, his mind was fixated on Summer. That hug, her body against mine. Fuck, she's perfect. He felt a familiar stir in his pants, his cock twitching at the memory.
Unable to resist, he grabbed his laptop, dimming the lights as he settled against the pillows. A quick incognito search brought up porn sites, and he typed in descriptors that reminded him of her: "tall blonde big tits college girl." Videos popped up-women who vaguely resembled Summer, but none captured her essence. He clicked on one: a busty blonde riding a guy reverse cowgirl, her moans filling his headphones.
John's hand slipped into his boxers, wrapping around his hardening shaft. He stroked slowly at first, imagining it was Summer on top of him, her breasts bouncing, her tight pussy gripping him. God, I wish I could get closer to her, he thought, his pace quickening. Not just know her, but be intimate. Feel her from the outside, sure, but, inside too? Like, understand her completely. The fantasy spiraled-taboo thoughts of body swaps, gender bends from the weird porn he'd stumbled upon before, where guys became girls and explored forbidden desires.
His breath hitched as the orgasm built, more intense than usual. "Fuck, I wish I could be closer to Summer, inside and out," he whispered aloud, his voice hoarse. The video played on, the actress crying out in ecstasy. John's body tensed, cum erupting in hot spurts over his hand and stomach. Waves of pleasure crashed over him, stronger than ever, his vision blurring as a strange dizziness took hold. The world spun, and suddenly-blackness. He collapsed back, unconscious, the laptop still humming softly in the dim room.
Chapter 2: Freaky Morning
The first rays of dawn filtered through the sheer curtains of Heather's bedroom, casting a soft, ethereal glow over the king-sized bed with its crisp white sheets and plush comforter. The room was a sanctuary of feminine elegance-walls painted a calming lavender, a vanity table cluttered with perfumes and jewelry, and a full-length mirror propped against the far wall, reflecting the orderly chaos of a woman's life well-lived. Heather's closet stood slightly ajar, revealing rows of neatly hung blouses, dresses, and jeans, while the faint scent of lavender sachets mingled with the subtle musk of her favorite body lotion. It was a space John had only glimpsed in passing, never truly entered, let alone woken up in.
But this morning, that's exactly where he found himself-or rather, where she found herself. John's consciousness stirred groggily, his mind foggy from what felt like the deepest sleep of his life. His body felt, off. Lighter somehow, yet weighted in unfamiliar places. He blinked against the light, rubbing his eyes with hands that seemed smaller, more delicate. What a weird dream, he thought hazily, the remnants of last night's intense orgasm flickering in his memory like a half-remembered fantasy. That blackout, must've passed out hard. A pressing urge built in his lower abdomen-the need to pee-and without much thought, he swung his legs over the side of the bed.
The nightgown whispered against his skin as he stood, a silky fabric that clung in ways his boxers never did. It was Heather's favorite-a simple lavender slip that reached mid-thigh, with thin straps and a lace-trimmed neckline that dipped just enough to hint at cleavage. John didn't register the difference yet; his brain was still booting up. He padded across the plush carpet, the cool hardwood of the en suite bathroom floor sending a shiver up his spine as he entered. The bathroom was pristine: marble counters, a deep soaking tub, and a rainfall showerhead that Heather loved for its spa-like feel. He lifted the toilet seat out of habit-wait, no, that felt wrong. Instinct took over, and he hiked up the nightgown, sat down on the cool porcelain, and let go.
The stream came easily, a soft trickle that felt strangely relieving but, different. No standing, no aiming-just sitting and releasing. He reached for the toilet paper without thinking, wiping front to back in a motion that came as naturally as breathing. Flush. Stand. Wash hands. It was all autopilot, muscle memory kicking in from a body that wasn't his. Huh, that was, easy, he mused internally, still half-asleep. Usually takes forever to wake up properly.
He shuffled to the vanity sink, the mirror fogged slightly from the humidity of the night. Grabbing Heather's toothbrush-pink-handled, with soft bristles-he squeezed on a dollop of minty toothpaste and began brushing. The rhythm was familiar, but as he raised his arm, it brushed against something soft and yielding. A jolt of sensation shot through him-nipples hardening under the fabric, a subtle weight shifting on his chest. What the...? He paused, toothbrush in mouth, and glanced down. Breasts. Actual breasts, modestly sized but pert, straining slightly against the nightgown. The toothbrush clattered into the sink as awareness crashed over him like a wave.
John's eyes widened in the mirror, staring back at a face that wasn't his. Heather's face: high cheekbones, full lips painted a natural pink from last night's gloss, warm brown eyes framed by long lashes, and a cascade of brunette hair tumbling over shoulders. "Oh my God," he whispered, but the voice that emerged was soft, feminine-Heather's voice, with its gentle Texas lilt. He gasped externally, a sharp intake of breath that echoed in the tiled room. Internally, his mind screamed: What the fuck is happening? This can't be real. Am I still dreaming? Did I die? Panic bubbled up, his new heart pounding in a chest that felt both alien and intimately responsive.
He leaned closer to the mirror, hands-slender, with manicured nails-gripping the counter. Calm down, John. Breathe. Figure this out. How had this happened? Last night, the porn, the wish whispered aloud as he came. I wish I could get closer to Summer, inside and out. Was this some cosmic joke? A body swap? Like those weird stories he'd read online, the gender bender fantasies that always got him off harder than he cared to admit. But this was real-the cool air from the AC vent brushing against his skin, making goosebumps rise, and lower, a chill teasing at exposed folds he shouldn't have. Holy shit, I have a vagina.
Curiosity edged out the panic as he calmed. If this is a dream, might as well explore. He started with the face, poking and prodding gently. Heather's skin was smooth, softer than his ever was-no stubble, just the faint peach fuzz of a woman's complexion. He stuck out his tongue-pink and agile-wagging it experimentally. Then, an UwU face: cheeks puffed, eyes wide and innocent, lips pursed in a cute pout. It looked ridiculous on Heather's mature features, but oddly endearing. A sad face next-eyebrows furrowed, lower lip trembling-as if practicing for a role in a drama. She looks, kinda hot like this, he admitted to himself, a forbidden thought creeping in.
Now, the voice. "Hello?" he tested, the word coming out smooth and melodic. He cleared his throat-her throat-and tried seductive: "Come here, big boy," drawled low and husky, with a sultry emphasis that made his new nipples tingle. Angry and authoritative: "Young man, you're grounded!" barked out, stern and commanding, the kind of tone Heather used when scolding him. Curse words for fun: "Fuck, shit, damn," he whispered, giggling at how prim and proper it sounded in her voice, then louder, "Oh, fuck me," with a moan that surprised him with its authenticity. This is insane. I sound just like her. But better? Sexier?
Satisfied for now, he ventured back into the bedroom, the nightgown swishing around his thighs. The full-body mirror beckoned, a ornate antique piece Heather had inherited from her mother. John stood before it, heart racing anew. He slipped the straps off his shoulders, letting the nightgown pool at his feet. Naked now, he stared. Heather's body-his body-was stunning in a way he'd never appreciated. At 45, she was fit from yoga classes with Jessica, her skin glowing with a natural tan. Modest B-cup breasts hung with a natural heft, nipples a dusky pink and erect from the cool air. He cupped them experimentally, feeling the weight-soft yet firm, like ripe fruit. These are, heavy. But nice. Sensitive too. A gentle squeeze sent a spark straight to his core, a warmth building between his legs.
His hands roamed lower: smooth, hairless skin everywhere except a neatly trimmed patch above his new slit. No coarse body hair, just silkiness. Legs long and dainty, toned calves leading to petite feet. He turned, admiring the curve of his ass-round and perky, not as voluptuous as Jessica's but inviting. Fingernails painted a soft nude, longer than he was used to, scratching lightly over his skin. She's gorgeous. Why didn't I notice before? Taboo, I guess. But now... The thought aroused him-her. A slickness grew between his thighs, a moist heat that made him clench involuntarily. I'm getting wet. Fuck, that's hot. But not now-gotta figure this out.
Shaking it off, he headed to the closet, an instinctive pull guiding him. Muscle memory? Heather's knowledge seeped in-he knew exactly where her lingerie drawer was, tucked in the back. He pulled out a comfortable bra: beige lace, supportive underwire. Slipping it on was effortless-arms through straps, clasp in front with a twist, adjust the cups. Whoa, that was easy. Like I've done it a thousand times. It felt amazing: the lift pushing his breasts up, creating subtle cleavage, the fabric hugging like a second skin. Panties next-a thong, black and silky, something he wouldn't have pegged for Heather's modest style. Does she wear these? Kinky, Mom. He stepped in, pulling it up; the string nestled between his ass cheeks, a constant teasing pressure, while the front panel cupped his mound, the fabric brushing his slit in a way that made him gasp. Feels, exposing. But good. Like it's right there, ready.
Clothes: tight skinny jeans that hugged his hips and ass like a glove, zipping up with a satisfying snugness. A button-up blouse in soft blue, rolling the sleeves for a casual look that accentuated his figure. This outfits screams 'hot mom.' Matches perfectly.
Drawn to the makeup vanity next-a wooden table with a lighted mirror, drawers full of palettes and brushes. He sat, brushing out the long brunette locks-silky and thick, falling to mid-back. Tying it into a loose ponytail was second nature, strands framing his face. Feels lighter now. Smells like her shampoo-floral and fresh.
The makeup array was overwhelming: foundations, blushes, eyeshadows in every shade, lipsticks from nude to bold red. So much stuff. Eyeliners, mascaras, how does she choose? But again, instinct guided him. He applied a light foundation, blending seamlessly; a touch of blush for a rosy glow; eyeliner winged just so, making his eyes pop; mascara for length; and a lipstick a shade pinker than Heather's usual, with a gloss that made his lips look fuller, kissable. Cuter, slightly seductive-eyebrows arched playfully, a hint of shimmer on the lids. Not her everyday look. More, flirty. Like I'm dolling up for something special.
Stepping back, he admired the full effect in the mirror: a vision of mature allure, jeans accentuating curves, blouse hinting at cleavage, makeup enhancing natural beauty. If this is permanent, what now? Excitement mingled with fear, but a thrill coursed through him. Summer. This could be my chance to get close. Really close. With that, he headed downstairs, ready to face whatever bizarre day awaited in his step-mom's body.
Chapter 3: "Heather"'s Day
The aroma of sizzling bacon and fresh coffee wafted through the Thompson household, a cozy two-story home nestled in the heart of Willow Creek. The kitchen was Heather's domain-granite countertops gleaming under pendant lights, a farmhouse sink piled with mixing bowls, and a window overlooking the backyard where John had spent countless summers playing catch with his late dad. But this morning, it was John-or rather, "Heather"-commanding the space with an ease that surprised even him. Dressed in those tight skinny jeans that hugged his new curves like a second skin and the button-up blouse that teased just a hint of cleavage, he moved with a fluid grace, flipping pancakes and scrambling eggs as if he'd done it a thousand times. Which, in a way, he had-Heather's muscle memory was a godsend, guiding his hands through the motions without a second thought.
What the hell is going on? John pondered internally, stirring the eggs with a wooden spoon. Am I stuck like this forever? Is this some kind of freaky punishment for jerking off to Summer? Or, fulfillment of that wish? The confusion gnawed at him, but a strange exhilaration bubbled underneath. No more awkward stares from afar; he could be close now, in ways he never imagined. But first, gotta play the part. Don't freak out the family. He set the table with Heather's favorite floral plates, humming a tune he didn't even know he knew-a soft melody from one of her yoga playlists.
As the first one up, John had the house to himself for a blissful half-hour, but soon enough, footsteps thudded down the stairs. His heart-or Heather's-skipped a beat as he wondered about his old body. What if Mom's in there? Trapped, screaming? Or, what if it's empty? The question was answered when "John" shuffled into the kitchen, yawning in his rumpled pajamas, hair tousled just like always. "Morning, Mom," the body said in John's own voice, wrapping arms around "Heather" in a casual hug. The embrace felt surreal-hugging himself, essentially-but there was no hint of anything amiss. "John" pulled back, sniffing the air. "Smells awesome. You making pancakes? Sweet."
"Yeah, sweetie, your favorite," John replied in Heather's warm tone, forcing a smile while his mind raced. He's acting just like me. Saying shit I'd say, moving like I do. Is it, on autopilot? Some kind of echo? Relief washed over him; at least no one was suffering in his place. Amy joined moments later, her ponytail bouncing as she plopped into a chair, phone in hand. "Morning, everyone! Ooh, bacon-thanks, Mom."
Breakfast unfolded in a haze of normalcy that bordered on the absurd. They chatted about the weather-hot and humid, as always in Texas-the latest neighborhood gossip, and Amy's excitement about her summer classes. John, as Heather, navigated it flawlessly: laughing at "John's" dumb joke about a video game boss, passing the syrup with a maternal nod, even scolding Amy gently for scrolling too much at the table. Internally, though, it was a mindfuck. This is me, eating with my family, but I'm Mom. Watching myself chew with my mouth open. Hearing Amy call me 'Mom.' It's like a VR sim gone wrong. A flicker of arousal stirred as he caught sight of Amy's tank top riding up, revealing a sliver of her toned stomach-taboo thoughts he quickly shoved down. Focus, dude. You're her mom now.
As the meal wrapped up, plans emerged. "John" mentioned heading out to mow more lawns-my old job, John thought wryly-while Amy talked about meeting friends downtown. "Hey, Mom," Amy said, stacking plates, "you should hit the mall today. Get that new bathing suit we talked about. Remember, tomorrow's the double date at the beach spa with Jessica and Summer! It's gonna be so fun-sun, sand, massages..."
John's new body reacted instantly: a flush of heat between his legs, nipples tightening under the bra. Double date? With Jessica and Summer? Holy shit. Images flooded his mind-Summer in a bikini, water glistening on her curves, her laughter echoing over waves. This is it. The wish. Getting closer to her, even if it's as Mom. Bizarre, but, hot? He nodded enthusiastically, Heather's voice steady. "That sounds perfect, honey. I could use a little retail therapy."
Amy grinned. "Awesome! Pick something cute. Maybe something a bit, sexier? You're still got it, Mom." She winked, and "John" chuckled, oblivious.
Once they left-the door clicking shut behind them-John was alone, the house silent except for the hum of the fridge. Okay, game on. He grabbed Heather's purse from the hook by the door-a stylish leather satchel stuffed with wallet, keys, and lip gloss-and slung it over his shoulder. Stepping out, he felt a literal spring in his step: lighter on his feet, hips swaying naturally, the thong riding up just enough to remind him of his new anatomy. Feels, empowering? Like I'm strutting.
Heather's car-a reliable SUV-waited in the driveway. Sliding into the driver's seat, he adjusted the mirror, buckling up. The seatbelt nestled between his breasts, the strap pressing against the soft mounds, creating a valley of cleavage. Whoa, that's, distracting. Unable to resist, he glanced around-no nosy neighbors watching-and cupped his boobs through the blouse, squeezing gently. The sensation zinged straight to his core, a moist warmth building. These feel amazing. So sensitive. He admired his reflection: ponytail bouncing, makeup flawless, lips plump. Looking good, 'Heather.' A little crazy? Maybe. But fuck it. Starting the engine, he pulled out, heading to the mall with a mix of nerves and excitement.
The Willow Creek Mall was bustling mid-morning: families milling about, teens in clusters, the air scented with pretzels and perfume. As "Heather," John drew glances-not suspicious, but appreciative. Men stealing looks at his ass in the jeans, women nodding at his outfit. They're checking me out. Because I'm hot. Female hot. It was a power trip, boosting his confidence as he navigated to a trendy store aimed at the 18-25 crowd-think fast fashion with edgy vibes, blasting pop music and lined with racks of crop tops and mini skirts.
Browsing the swimsuit section, he blended in at first, but soon noticed the giggles from a group of college-aged girls nearby. They're laughing at me? The 'old lady' in their store? But he ignored it, fingers trailing over fabrics until he spotted a two-piece white bikini: skimpy top with padding for extra lift, high-cut bottoms that would hug and expose his ass cheeks. This is cute. Revealing, but, why not? Summer might notice. Heart pounding, he grabbed a size that felt right-Heather's instincts again-and headed to the changing rooms.
The attendant, an 18-year-old with neon hair and a judgmental smirk, eyed him up. "Uh, can I help you? These are for, like, our demographic..."
John channeled Heather's charisma-poise he'd never had as himself. He flashed a warm smile, tilting his head flirtatiously. "Oh, honey, age is just a number. But if you insist, maybe you can help me decide if this makes me look too, youthful?" He added a wink and a light laugh, funny yet charming, disarming her completely.
The girl blinked, then grinned. "Okay, fair. Room three's open. Knock yourself out."
Inside the cramped stall, mirror-lined walls reflecting every angle, John stripped slowly. Off came the blouse, jeans pooling at his feet, bra unclasped-breasts freed, nipples perking in the cool air. The thong slipped down, revealing his smooth mound, already glistening slightly from anticipation. Time to see. He stepped into the bikini bottoms, the fabric snug against his slit, riding up to accentuate his ass. The top tied on, padding pushing his B-cups into fuller, perkier cleavage. Damn, I look, fuckable.
Letting his hair down-waves cascading-he posed: hands on hips, seductive smirk, touching himself all over. Fingers traced his collarbone, down to squeeze his enhanced boobs, thumbs circling nipples until they ached. So soft, so responsive. He turned, admiring his ass-cheeks peeking out, firm and inviting. Then, cutesy mode: innocent pout, batting lashes, imagining compliments from Jessica and Summer. "Oh, Heather, you look amazing!" he'd coo in a high pitch, giggling.
But thoughts turned to Summer: her taller frame in a bikini, bigger bust spilling out, water droplets tracing her curves. God, she'd look incredible. Wet, shiny... Arousal hit hard-his pussy throbbing, slickness soaking the bottoms. Can't ignore this anymore. He slipped a hand down, rubbing his clit through the fabric-electric sparks shooting through him. Fuck, that's intense. Boldly, he pushed the bottoms aside, fingers dipping into his wet folds, one then two sliding in. The fullness, the warmth-moans escaped, soft at first, then louder: "Oh, yes..." He pumped gently, thumb on clit, imagining Summer's body against his. The attendant might have heard-the stall walls thin-but he didn't care, stopping just short of climax. Later. Save it.
Composed again, he dressed and checked out. The cashier-a young guy-rang him up, but John scratched an itch near his crotch crudely, like a guy adjusting his balls. Oops. The cashier flushed, thinking, Hot mom, but, that was weird. Kinda unladylike.
Back home, cooking dinner was effortless: Heather's recipes ingrained, whipping up lasagna with garlic bread. When Amy and "John" returned, he roleplayed perfectly-asking about their days, laughing at stories, no suspicions raised. This is trippy. Engaging with myself.
After dinner, alone time with Amy in her room: posters of bands, clothes strewn about. She changed for bed into a provocative outfit-tiny shorts and a crop top, no bra, nipples visible through thin fabric. John stared voyeuristically, heat building. She's hot. Like Mom, but younger. Amy chatted about the spa: private massages, saunas, hot tubs. "And who knows, Mom? We might spot some hot guys. You could use a fling!" She teased, winking.
John laughed, but internally: Guys? Nah. But Summer... Excited, he headed to bed, following Heather's routine: face wash, lotion, nightgown. In the nightstand, a small vibrator-pink, discreet. Mom's got toys? Kinky.
Lying back, he buzzed it to life, pressing against his clit. Oh fuck. Imagining the spa: Jessica in a thong, bust overflowing; Summer nude, legs spread; even Amy, playful and bare. They touched, kissed-taboo fantasies blending. Orgasms crashed over him, waves of pleasure making his body arch, moans muffled into the pillow. Exhausted, he drifted to sleep, dreaming of tomorrow's possibilities.
Chapter 4: Before the Outing
The alarm on Heather's nightstand buzzed softly at 7 AM, pulling John from a deep, dreamless sleep. He stretched languidly under the sheets, his body-Heather's body-responding with a supple arch that made his breasts shift and his hips roll in a way that felt both foreign and intoxicating. The vibrator from last night lay innocently on the pillow beside him, a silent reminder of the explosive orgasm that had rocked him to his core. Holy shit, that was real, he thought, a grin spreading across Heather's full lips as he sat up. I'm still here. Still her. And today, today I get to see Summer up close. In a spa. With bikinis and massages and, God, what if things get steamy? Excitement coursed through him, mingling with a low hum of arousal that made his new pussy tingle faintly.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed, the cool morning air teasing his skin through the thin nightgown. Padding to the en suite bathroom, he caught his reflection in the mirror-hair tousled from sleep, makeup smudged just enough to look sultry rather than sloppy. I look like a woman who's had a wild night. Fitting. Stripping off the nightgown, he stepped into the shower, turning the water to a steamy hot spray that cascaded over his curves like a lover's touch. The sensation was overwhelming: water beading on his breasts, trickling down his flat stomach, pooling between his thighs. He lathered up with Heather's body wash-a luxurious blend of vanilla and jasmine that made his skin slick and silky.
This feels incredible, he marveled internally, hands roaming as he washed. Fingers grazed his nipples, hardening them into peaks that sent jolts straight to his core. Lower, he soaped his pussy gently, the suds mixing with a fresh slickness as thoughts of Summer invaded his mind. Her body wet like this, blonde hair plastered to her big tits, laughing as she splashes Amy, Fuck, I can't wait. But the real star was the shampoo: a fruity, botanical concoction of mango and hibiscus that filled the steam with an exotic, heady aroma. He massaged it into his scalp, the long strands heavy and fragrant under his fingers. Smells like paradise. Like her-Summer always has that tropical vibe. Rinsing off, he lingered under the spray, one hand slipping between his legs to rub his clit in slow circles. A soft moan escaped-Heather's voice, husky with desire. Just a tease. Save the big one for later, maybe with her. He stopped before climax, toweling off with a fluffy robe that hugged his figure, still buzzing with anticipation.
Downstairs in the kitchen, the family routine kicked in. John, as Heather, whipped up a quick breakfast-avocado toast with eggs, fresh fruit on the side-while "John" and Amy trickled in. "Morning, everyone," he said brightly, plating the food. Time to probe. What's my old body been up to? He turned to "John," who was shoveling toast into his mouth just like he always did. "So, sweetie, what have you been up to these last couple days? Any fun plans while we're gone?"
"John" shrugged, mid-bite. "Eh, mostly gaming. Finally beat that level in Elden Ring- you know, the one with the fire giant? Took forever, but I cheesed it with the bleed build."
John's excitement spiked-That's my game! I was stuck on that boss for weeks!-and he leaned in, Heather's eyes lighting up. "Oh, really? The fire giant? Isn't that the one where you have to dodge those massive AOE attacks? And the bleed build-smart, using rivers of blood katana, right? Pairs great with the mimic tear summon."
"John" blinked, surprised but nodding. "Yeah, exactly! Wait, Mom, since when do you know about Elden Ring builds?"
Amy, overhearing from her seat, paused with her coffee mug halfway to her lips. "Whoa, Mom, you're a gamer now? That's, kinda cool, but random."
Panic flickered in John's mind-Shit, too much. Slipped into my own geek mode. But Heather's poise bubbled up, that effortless charisma saving the day. He laughed lightly, waving a hand dismissively. "Oh, honey, I've picked up a thing or two listening to you ramble about it. Plus, I read an article the other day-something about how video games improve reflexes. Keeps me young!" He added a wink, steering the conversation smoothly to Amy's classes, and the moment passed without suspicion. Close call. But damn, it's weird hearing about my own life from the outside.
After breakfast, with "John" heading out for more chores and Amy lingering to help clean up, John retreated upstairs to pack. The closet called to him again, and rummaging through Heather's wardrobe, his eyes landed on a sexy sun dress he'd somehow overlooked before: a vibrant red number with a deep V-neck that plunged daringly between the breasts, thin straps, and a flowy skirt that hit mid-thigh, perfect for showing off legs and a hint of cleavage. This is fire. Shows off everything-boobs, ass, the works. He slipped it on, the fabric whispering against his skin, hugging his curves before flaring out. Twirling in the mirror, he admired how it accentuated his bust, the material thin enough that his nipples poked through if he got chilled. Summer's gonna love this. Wait, no- she's straight, right? But maybe...
Packing was quick: the new white bikini folded neatly into an overnight bag, along with other fun outfits-a sheer cover-up that would tease skin, lacy lingerie just in case things heated up, and casual shorts with a crop top for lounging. Prepared for anything. Massages, saunas, who knows what could happen in private? A thrill shot through him, his pussy clenching at the possibilities.
As they got ready to leave, Amy appeared in the doorway, eyeing the dress with raised eyebrows. "Damn, Mom! That dress is hot. You're gonna turn heads at the spa. Jessica might get jealous-she's usually the MILF queen."
John flushed-Heather's cheeks warming-but played it cool with a playful spin. "Thanks, sweetie. Figured why not? Life's too short for boring clothes." Amy laughed, complimenting his makeup too-the subtle smokey eyes he'd added for extra allure. They headed out together, leaving "John" with a wave and instructions to behave, the SUV purring down the driveway toward the beach spa an hour away.
---
Meanwhile, across the neighborhood at the Summers' residence-a modern ranch-style home with a sprawling backyard pool and Jessica's yoga mats scattered on the deck-preparations were in full swing. Jessica, at 46, moved with the grace of a woman who knew her power, her platinum blonde hair tied in a high ponytail as she packed her bag in the sunlit kitchen. She wore yoga leggings and a sports bra for the drive, her generous D-cup bust straining against the fabric, curves honed from years of downward dogs and warrior poses. Summer, her 20-year-old daughter, was upstairs in her room, a feminine haven of pastel walls, volleyball trophies, and posters of indie bands.
"Summer, honey, you almost ready?" Jessica called up the stairs, zipping her bag with swimsuits, lotions, and a bottle of wine for the evening. "Heather and Amy should be meeting us soon-don't forget your sunscreen!"
"Coming, Mom!" Summer replied, her voice light but laced with a secret excitement. She stood before her mirror, adjusting a casual tank top and shorts over her bikini, her taller frame making everything look model-esque. Blonde waves framed her face, and her E-cup breasts filled out the top perfectly, a natural bounce with each movement. God, I'm buzzing, she thought, inner monologue racing as she packed. A whole day at the spa with Amy, and Heather. Heather. A flush crept up her neck at the thought. Summer had always been the popular girl-cheerful, athletic, surrounded by friends-but deep down, she harbored a secret: a growing attraction to women that she'd never voiced. College had opened her eyes-stolen glances in the dorm showers, butterflies around pretty professors-but back home, it simmered unspoken.
Heather's always been so, elegant. Fit, brunette, that quiet sexiness. And lately, I've caught myself staring. Is it a crush? She bit her lip, imagining Heather in a swimsuit, their bodies close during a massage. Women are just, softer. Curvier. More intoxicating. Amy's hot too, but Heather-mature, experienced. What if I could, explore? The thought made her nipples harden, a warmth pooling between her legs. She shook it off, grabbing her bag. "Okay, Mom, let's go!"
Downstairs, Jessica hugged her daughter, their dialogue easy and affectionate. "You excited? It's been ages since we did a girls' trip like this."
"Totally," Summer said, grinning. "Pool time, massages-perfection. And hanging with Amy and Heather will be fun."
Jessica raised an eyebrow teasingly. "Heather, huh? You've always had a soft spot for her. She's like a second mom."
Summer laughed it off, but internally: If only you knew. "Yeah, something like that."
They loaded the car, chatting about spa details-private saunas, ocean views-and headed out, the drive filled with laughter and playlists.
---
Back to John as Heather: they arrived at the beach spa first, a luxurious resort overlooking the Gulf, with palm trees swaying and the scent of salt air mingling with essential oils. Stepping out, John smoothed the sun dress, the skirt fluttering in the breeze to reveal toned thighs. Here we go. Jessica's SUV pulled up moments later, and as she emerged-looking every bit the cougar in a wrap dress that hugged her bust-John greeted her with la bise, the European cheek kisses they always did. "Jessica, darling, you look fabulous," he purred in Heather's voice, their cheeks brushing, scents mingling.
"You too, Heather- that dress! Sexy as hell," Jessica replied with a laugh.
But then Summer stepped out, and John froze. She was stunning: a floral sundress similar to his but shorter, accentuating her long legs, bigger bust spilling slightly at the neckline, blonde hair glowing in the sun. Fuck, she's a goddess. Taller, thinner, those tits, I could stare forever. His body reacted-pussy dampening, heart racing.
Summer, meanwhile, was equally awestruck. Heather looks, different. Hotter. That makeup, the dress-cleavage for days. Is she flirting with the world today? Her cheeks pinked as they locked eyes. "Hey, Heather," she said softly, moving in for a hug.
The embrace was electric: bodies pressing close, John's breasts mashing against Summer's larger ones, soft and yielding through thin fabrics. He inhaled her scent-vanilla and sunscreen-feeling the warmth of her skin, the subtle curve of her hips. Oh God, this feels amazing. Her boobs against mine, so full, so perfect. A forbidden thrill shot through him, his nipples hardening.
Summer pulled back reluctantly, blushing deeper. That hug, her body feels so good. Soft, warm. I want more. Jessica and Amy were already chatting animatedly about the itinerary, laughing as they grabbed bags. "Come on, ladies-let's check in!" Jessica goaded, leading the way.
John followed, mind spinning with possibilities, the group entering the spa's grand lobby, ready for whatever intimacies the day held.
Chapter 5: Getting Close to Summer
The Azure Waves Beach Spa Resort sprawled along the Gulf Coast like a hidden paradise, its white stucco buildings accented with turquoise trim, palm-fringed pools shimmering under the relentless Texas sun, and the distant crash of waves providing a rhythmic soundtrack to indulgence. The lobby was a haven of luxury: marble floors cooled by ocean breezes, plush seating areas dotted with tropical plants, and the faint scent of eucalyptus from the spa diffusers. As the group checked in, the receptionist-a perky young woman with a name tag reading "Mia"-handed over key cards with a smile. "Welcome, ladies! Your suites are in the Ocean Wing. Pool's open all day, and your massages are booked for 3 PM. Enjoy!"
John, still inhabiting Heather's body, clutched his key card tightly, his manicured fingers trembling slightly with a mix of nerves and exhilaration. The hug with Summer lingered in his mind-the press of her larger breasts against his, the warmth of her breath on his neck, that telltale blush coloring her cheeks as they pulled apart. She blushed. Hard. Was that because of me? Or, Heather? Does she feel something too? He wondered internally, a spark of hope igniting in his chest. This body swap thing is nuts, but if it means getting close to her like this, I'll take it. The group dispersed to their individual suites with plans to reconvene at the main pool in an hour, Amy and Jessica chattering excitedly about cocktails and sunbathing.
John's suite was a slice of opulence: a spacious room with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the beach, a king bed draped in crisp linens, and a private balcony where the sea air whispered promises of relaxation. A mini-bar stocked with chilled wines and fruits sat invitingly by the desk, and the bathroom boasted a rainfall shower and plush robes. Alone at last, he set his bag down and faced the full-length mirror, Heather's reflection staring back-sun dress hugging curves, ponytail slightly tousled from the drive. Time to change. Make it fun. A mischievous grin spread across his lips as he decided to indulge in the moment, turning the simple act of changing into a private spectacle.
He started slow, swaying his hips to an imaginary beat, fingers tracing the thin straps of the dress. Strip tease for one. Why not? This body's made for it. He slipped one strap down, then the other, letting the fabric pool at his waist, exposing Heather's lacy bra that cradled his modest B-cup breasts. Cupping them, he squeezed gently, thumbs circling nipples until they peaked, a soft gasp escaping-Heather's voice, breathy and feminine. Feels so good. Sensitive as hell. The dress fell to the floor in a whisper, leaving him in just the thong panties, the string nestled teasingly between his ass cheeks. He turned, admiring the view: smooth skin, toned legs, the curve of his hips flaring out invitingly. Hooking thumbs into the thong, he bent forward dramatically, sliding it down slowly, ass presented to the mirror as his pussy came into view-already glistening with arousal. Look at that. Wet just from thinking about her. He stepped out of the panties, fully nude now, and struck poses: one hand on hip, the other trailing down his stomach to brush his clit, eliciting a shiver.
Grabbing the white two-piece bikini from his bag, he made the donning equally erotic. First the bottoms: stepping in exaggeratedly, pulling them up so the fabric hugged his mound, the high-cut sides framing his ass like a work of art. He adjusted the front, fingers dipping briefly into his folds for a teasing rub. Mmm, tight fit. Shows off everything. The top came next-tying it behind his back with a flourish, the padding lifting his breasts into fuller, perkier cleavage that spilled slightly at the edges. He bounced on his toes, watching them jiggle. Damn, I look hot. Summer's gonna notice. Hair down in waves, a quick touch-up of lip gloss, and he wrapped a towel around his waist like a sarong, heading out with a sway in his step that felt utterly natural.
The pool area was a tropical oasis: infinity edges blending with the ocean horizon, cabanas with billowing white curtains, and lounge chairs lined up under umbrellas. Waitstaff in crisp uniforms circulated with trays of fruity cocktails. John spotted Jessica first, and his jaw nearly dropped. She lounged by the chairs like a predator in wait-a super sexy MILF cougar ready to pounce. Her one-piece swimsuit was a masterpiece of temptation: black with strategic cutouts along the sides and midriff, plunging neckline showcasing her generous D-cup bust, the fabric clinging to her curves like a second skin. It looked straight off a supermodel runway, accentuating her toned legs and the subtle sway of her hips. Blonde hair cascaded freely, sunglasses perched on her nose, a knowing smile on her lips.
Holy fuck, Jessica, John thought, a droplet of drool nearly escaping as he approached. She's always been hot, but this? Lethal. "Jessica, wow-you look incredible," he said in Heather's warm voice, eyes lingering a beat too long on her cleavage.
She laughed, standing to hug him-bodies pressing close, her bust against his making his nipples harden instantly. "Coming from you? Please, Heather, that bikini is fire. White on your tan? Chef's kiss." She pulled back, handing him a vibrant cocktail-something pink and garnished with pineapple. "Mai Tai. Figured we'd start strong." Then, with a flirtatious grin, she offered her hand. "Shall we? Chairs are this way."
John took it, their fingers intertwining, skin warm and soft. Internally, he freaked: Hand-holding with Jessica? While she looks like that? How do I even talk without staring at her tits? But as they walked, the panic ebbed, replaced by awe as his gaze shifted to the pool. There, frolicking in the water, was Summer-splashing Amy with gleeful abandon, her laughter ringing out like music. She wore a skimpy red bikini that left little to the imagination: top straining against her E-cup breasts, bottoms tied at the sides with bows that begged to be undone. Water glistened on her taller, thinner frame, droplets tracing paths down her toned abs and long legs. Amy, in a sporty blue two-piece that hugged her perky C-cups and athletic build, laughed back, but John's eyes were glued to Summer. Oh my God. She's perfection. Bouncing in the water like that, I could watch forever.
They settled into adjacent lounge chairs, cocktails in hand, the sun warming their skin. John sipped his drink-sweet and potent, rum hitting just right-while freaking out internally about small talk. What do I say? Weather? No, too lame. But Heather's essence surged forward: that natural charisma, the ease of conversation she'd always had. "So, Jess, tell me-how's the yoga studio been? Any new hot instructors catching your eye?" he asked with a teasing lilt, leaning back to mirror her relaxed pose.
Jessica chuckled, sipping her drink. "Oh, you know me-always scouting talent. There's this one guy, mid-20s, abs for days. But honestly, I've been too busy. What about you? Dating scene treating you well since, you know." Her voice softened, referencing Heather's widowhood without dwelling.
The chat flowed effortlessly: gossip about neighborhood drama (Mrs. Wilkins' latest affair scandal), shared laughs over parenting woes (Amy's college antics mirroring Summer's), and deeper tidbits-Jessica confessing her secret love for trashy romance novels, John sharing Heather's fondness for gardening mixed with his own taste in indie films. This is wild. I'm learning stuff about her I'd never know as John. All the while, his eyes darted to Summer in the pool: her lithe body diving under, emerging with hair slicked back, breasts heaving with each breath. So close. I can hear her laugh, see every curve. This is heaven.
Summer, mid-splash with Amy, glanced over occasionally, catching "Heather" watching. She's staring. At me? Curiosity bloomed in her chest, a warm flutter between her legs. Heather's always been gorgeous, but today, that bikini, those eyes on me. Does she feel it too?
Hours melted away in glorious voyeurism-John reveling in Summer's every move, the way water beaded on her skin, her playful shrieks as Amy dunked her. But Amy eventually broke the spell, swimming to the edge. "Hey, ladies! Massage time-let's go! Don't want to be late."
Summer climbed out, water cascading off her body as she approached the chairs. Up close, John drank her in: the red bikini clinging wetly, nipples faintly visible through the fabric, her taller frame towering slightly, ass cheeks peeking from the bottoms. Fuck, she's dripping. Warm and fuzzy? I'm on fire. Summer's eyes roamed Heather's body too-the white bikini enhancing cleavage, the way it hugged her slit subtly. Heather looks, edible. That lift in her boobs, her legs, God, I'm getting wet just looking.
The group toweled off and headed to the massage suite, a serene wing with dim lighting, soft instrumental music, and the scent of lavender oil. Private rooms branched off a central changing area with lockers and robes. John decided to go with the flow-Never had a massage before. Might as well enjoy. In the changing room, privacy screens offered partial cover, but glimpses were inevitable. He stripped slowly: bikini top untied, breasts freed with a bounce; bottoms slid down, exposing his smooth pussy. Sneaking peeks, he caught Jessica's nude form-voluptuous curves, shaved mound, ass like a peach. Amy's athletic body-perky tits, trimmed bush. But Summer, Jesus. Tall and lithe, her E-cups heavy and natural, pink nipples erect from the cool air, pussy with a neat landing strip. She bent to pick up her robe, ass presented, folds peeking invitingly.
Summer stole a glance back, eyes widening at Heather's body: modest but toned, breasts pert, pussy bare and glistening slightly. She's beautiful. Smooth everywhere, I want to touch. Both flushed, slipping into thin massage gowns-paper-thin fabric that hid little.
In the massage room-four tables side by side, therapists waiting with oils-John lay face-down, the gown parting to expose his back. As hands kneaded his muscles, tension melted, and conversation sparked with Summer on the next table. "This feels amazing," he sighed in Heather's voice. "First time for a pro massage?"
Summer turned her head, smiling. "Yeah, me too. Kinda nervous, but, relaxing. How's your summer been, Heather? Amy says you've been busy."
Small talk evolved: college life (Summer's volleyball team drama), favorites (John mixing his indie rock playlists with Heather's classic jazz, movies like his sci-fi faves blended with her rom-coms). "I love those mind-bendy films," he shared. "Like, ones that twist reality."
Depth crept in: dreams, fears. Then, intimacy. "Speaking of twists," Summer ventured shyly, "have you ever, experimented? With, um, relationships?"
John's heart raced-Heather's bi-curiosity surfacing in memories. "Honestly? Yes. I've always been curious about women. Experimented in college-a few flings. It's, liberating." True for her body. And hot to admit.
Summer's eyes lit up, ecstatic. Heather? Into women? Experimented? Oh my God. Internally: This could be my chance. Make a move later?
They delved deeper-Summer confessing, "I'm curious too. About my sexuality. Not sure yet, but, girls intrigue me. Not tell Amy or Mom, okay? Secret."
"I promise," John replied, mind whirling with ideas. She's a closet lesbian? Perfect. Crazy plans brewing-could I, with her? As Heather?
Topics shifted, landing on porn anecdotes for laughs. "Weirdest kink?" Summer teased.
John feigned shyness. "Oh, God, okay, MILF stuff, mom/son or mom/daughter roleplay. And, gender transformation, body swaps. Some TG/trans stuff. Plausible for me, right?" My actual kinks. Living one now.
Summer's intrigue peaked-surprised, aroused. Body swaps? Hot. I could listen to her forever. "Tell me more sometime?"
Massages ended, leading to dinner at the resort's seaside restaurant: candlelit tables, fresh seafood, wine flowing. Gossip flew-day's highlights, spa tales. Amy probed: "So, who caught your eye today? Hot guys around?"
Jessica grinned. "That lifeguard-tall, tanned. Yum." But John and Summer blushed, stammering vague answers, eyes meeting across the table with shared heat.
Back in his suite, John unwound, reflecting. Unbelievable. Staring at Summer all day, sharing secrets. She's into girls-maybe me. Even if not as John, worth it? He pondered his kinks: Living a body swap fantasy. Porn come to life.
Chapter 6: Summer Makes Her Move
The resort's restaurant lingered in Summer's mind like a hazy afterglow as she slipped back into her suite, the door clicking shut behind her with a soft finality. The room was a mirror of Heather's-ocean views framed by gauzy curtains, the bed inviting with its turned-down sheets, and the faint hum of waves crashing outside like a lullaby. But sleep was the last thing on her mind. Dinner had been electric: the way Heather's eyes had met hers across the table, that shared blush when Amy teased about crushes, the wine loosening tongues and inhibitions. Heather, into women? Experimented? And those kinks-body swaps, MILF roleplay. God, it's like she read my fantasies. Summer's skin tingled with the memory, a warmth spreading from her chest downward as she kicked off her sandals and padded to the mirror.
She stood there, illuminated by the soft glow of the bedside lamp, her red bikini swapped earlier for a simple tank top and shorts that clung to her damp skin from the evening humidity. Look at you, she thought, inner monologue swirling with a mix of nerves and desire. Twenty years old, closet lesbian, crushing on your best friend's mom. Pathetic? Or, bold? Her hands moved almost of their own accord, slipping under the hem of her tank top to lift it slowly over her head. Blonde waves tumbled free, framing her face as she tossed the top aside. Her E-cup breasts bounced gently, freed from confinement, nipples already hardening in the cool air-conditioned room. She cupped them, thumbs brushing the sensitive peaks, a soft sigh escaping her lips. So full, so sensitive. Imagine her hands on them-Heather's. Mature, knowing touch.
The shorts came next, shimmying down her long legs to reveal lacy panties that matched her earlier bikini-red and sheer, hinting at the neatly trimmed blonde patch beneath. She turned, admiring her reflection: taller frame lean and athletic from volleyball, ass firm and rounded, thighs toned from endless practices. I'm hot. She noticed me today-ogling at the pool, in the changing room. Those eyes on my body, Arousal built like a tide, her pussy aching with need. She slipped a hand into her panties, fingers finding her clit-swollen and slick already. Circling slowly, she moaned softly, imagining Heather's voice from the massage: I've experimented, curious about women. "Fuck," Summer whispered, her free hand pinching a nipple. What if I went to her room right now? Knocked, told her I can't stop thinking about her. Experimented, with me.
The fantasy spiraled: Heather pulling her inside, lips crashing, hands exploring. She's bi-curious. Shared those secrets. This could happen. Her fingers dipped lower, sliding into her wet folds, pumping gently as her knees weakened. Mentor me, like in those porn vids-the mom teaching the daughter. God, yes. Orgasm hovered close, but she stopped, breathing ragged. No. Not alone. Go to her. Now. Panties off, she grabbed a silk robe from the closet-thin and short, tying it loosely so it gaped at the front, hinting at her nudity beneath. Heart pounding, she slipped out into the dimly lit hallway, bare feet silent on the carpet, making her way to Heather's door. This is crazy. But if she turns me away, at least I tried. She knocked softly, pulse racing.
---
Back in Heather's suite, John paced the room, the nightgown whispering against his skin like a lover's promise. The silk fabric clung to his curves, nipples visible through the thin material, a constant reminder of his borrowed body. Dinner replayed in his mind: the gossip, the laughter, Summer's blush mirroring his own. She shared she's curious. About girls. And I-Heather-admitted to experimenting. Fuck, the ideas in my head, could I seduce her? As Mom? Taboo as hell, but, hot. He ran a hand through his brunette waves, arousal simmering from the day's sights-Summer's body, wet and glistening, her secret glances. Living my kink. Body swap porn come true. If only I could-
A knock shattered the silence. John's heart-or Heather's-leaped into his throat. Who the hell? At this hour? Peeking through the peephole, his breath caught: Summer, in a robe that barely contained her, blonde hair tousled, eyes wide with nervous determination. Oh shit. It's her. What does she want? Internally freaking: Calm down. Play it cool. But, what if this is it? He smoothed the nightgown, took a deep breath, and opened the door. "Summer? Is everything okay?"
She didn't answer with words. Stepping inside, she pushed the door shut behind her, locked it with a click, and surged forward. Her hands cupped Heather's face-John's face-and she kissed him fiercely, lips soft and urgent, tongue seeking entry. John gasped into the kiss, body responding instinctively: arms wrapping around her waist, pulling her close. The robe gaped, her naked breasts pressing against the nightgown, heat radiating through the fabric. Holy fuck, she's kissing me. Naked under there? This is happening. They stumbled backward, Summer guiding him toward the bed, her taller frame dominant yet gentle.
Breaking the kiss, Summer's blue eyes locked onto his, cheeks flushed. "Heather, I can't get you out of my head. All day-the pool, the changing room, the massage. You were staring. Ogling me. And what you said, about being curious, experimenting. It lit something in me."
John's mind reeled, but Heather's charisma surged: "Summer, honey, I noticed you too. Blushing, glancing back. You're beautiful. Irresistible." This is insane. My crush, making the move on me-as her. His pussy throbbed, wet and aching.
Summer's hands roamed, slipping under the nightgown to caress his hips. "I, I've never done this. With a woman. But I want to. With you." She hesitated, biting her lip. "Remember your kinks? The roleplay stuff? I have a favorite porn vid, the mom mentoring her daughter, teaching her about sex. Gentle at first, then, passionate. Will you? Roleplay that for me? Be the mom, show me?"
John's arousal spiked-One of my favorites too. The taboo mentor scene. He nodded, letting go, autopilot kicking in. Heather's sultriness blended with his knowledge, reciting lines perfectly. "Oh, sweetie," he purred in Heather's voice, seductive and maternal, "come here. Mommy's going to teach you everything. Make you feel so good." He pushed Summer gently onto the bed, climbing atop her, nightgown hiking up to reveal his thighs.
Summer moaned, robe falling open completely, exposing her nude body-breasts heaving, pussy glistening. John fondled her with grace: hands tracing her sides, cupping her E-cups softly, thumbs rolling nipples with deliberate, experienced touches. "Like this, baby? Feel how sensitive they are?" Summer arched, gasping. "Yes, Heather-Mommy-more."
But John switched to a male touch-his old instincts-groping harder, massaging her breasts roughly, pinching just enough to elicit a yelp. Summer's eyes widened. "That's, different. Rougher. Like a guy would."
He caught himself, switching back to Heather's graceful strokes, fingers trailing down her stomach. "Sorry, sweetie. Got carried away. Let Mommy show you properly." Lower now, he spread her legs, face inches from her pussy-pink and wet, scent musky and inviting. Diving in like a horny teenager-his true self-tongue lapping eagerly, sloppy and enthusiastic, sucking her clit with fervor. "Taste so good," he mumbled against her folds.
Summer writhed, hands in his hair. "Oh God, that's intense. Like a teen boy eating me out for the first time." She noticed the shift, but moaned louder. "Don't stop-switch back if you want. It's hot."
John obliged, alternating: graceful licks with Heather's precision, then teen-like enthusiasm-fingers plunging in, curling to hit her G-spot. Summer bucked, crying out. They kissed passionately next-tongues dancing, tastes mingling, bodies grinding. "Finger me," Summer begged, guiding his hand.
He did, two fingers sliding into her tightness, pumping rhythmically while his thumb worked her clit. "Like this? Feel Mommy filling you?" Summer reciprocated, hand slipping under the nightgown to find his pussy-wet and eager-fingers dipping in, exploring. "You're so wet, Heather. Taste yourself?" They ate each other out in turns: John on his back, Summer's face buried between his legs, tongue flicking his clit expertly now, drawing moans that echoed Heather's voice. "Yes, right there, baby. Lick Mommy's pussy."
Climax built, leading to scissoring: legs intertwined, pussies grinding. First position-side by side, hips rocking, clits rubbing in slick friction. "Fuck, yes," Summer gasped, breasts bouncing. They switched: Summer on top, dominant, grinding down hard; then John atop, using Heather's hips to maximize contact, juices mixing. Multiple positions-facing each other, backs arched; one on her back, the other straddling backward for deeper pressure. Orgasms crashed simultaneously: bodies shuddering, moans filling the room, waves of pleasure rippling through them.
Exhausted, they collapsed, embracing-Summer's head on Heather's chest, legs tangled, breaths syncing. "That was, incredible," Summer whispered, kissing his neck. "Thank you."
John held her, mind blissed: My dream. Intimate with Summer. Inside and out. They drifted to sleep, bodies entwined.
Morning light filtered in early, Summer stirring first. She slipped from the bed quietly, robe on, glancing back at the sleeping form. Can't get caught. But, wow. More later? She snuck out, door clicking softly.
John woke moments later, alone, sheets tangled and scented with sex. Was that, a dream? Felt so real. But the ache between his legs, the lingering taste on his lips-No. It happened. He rolled over, wondering if it was all a massive lucid fantasy, heart racing with confusion and lingering ecstasy.
Chapter 7: Back to Reality?
John's eyelids fluttered open to the familiar sight of his bedroom ceiling, the posters of video game characters and bands staring back at him like old friends. Sunlight streamed through the half-drawn blinds, casting striped patterns across his rumpled sheets. He groaned, shifting under the covers, immediately aware of the insistent throb between his legs-morning wood, tenting his boxers, and a sticky wetness that suggested a wet dream had spilled over into reality. What the hell was that? he thought, fragments of the night flashing like a fevered montage: Summer's body writhing against his-Heather's-scissoring in ecstasy, moans echoing in a spa suite. It felt so real. Too real. But, a dream? Yeah, must be. The most intense wet dream ever. Disappointment washed over him like a cold shower, his cock twitching one last time at the memory before he willed it down. Gone. All of it-the body swap, the explorations, Summer. Just my horny brain playing tricks.
He swung his legs over the bed, feet hitting the cool hardwood floor of his room-a teenage mess of discarded clothes, gaming controllers, and empty soda cans. The house felt eerily quiet, no clatter from the kitchen or Amy's music blasting from her room. Weird. Usually Mom's up making breakfast. He stripped off his sticky boxers, tossing them into the hamper, and grabbed a fresh pair from his drawer along with jeans and a t-shirt. A quick cleanup in his attached bathroom-splashing water on his face, brushing his teeth-did little to shake the lingering haze. That dream, possessing Mom's body, fucking Summer as her. Taboo as hell. Hot, though. Wish it wasn't just a subconscious jerk-off session.
Dressed now, he headed downstairs, the stairs creaking under his weight. The kitchen was empty, no coffee brewing, no note on the counter. "Mom? Amy?" he called out, voice echoing in the silence. A glance at the clock-9 AM on a Sunday-confirmed they should be home. Where is everyone? Did they go out early? His stomach rumbled, but before he could raid the fridge, a car horn blared outside, sharp and insistent.
Curiosity piqued, John peered through the front window. There, in the driveway, was Heather's SUV, doors open as four women unloaded bags: Heather, Jessica, Amy, and Summer. The spa trip. They must've just gotten back. But something felt off-Heather looked radiant, her brunette hair windswept, wearing that sexy sun dress from the dream, hugging her curves. Jessica, ever the MILF, laughed with Amy as they hauled luggage, her blonde locks catching the light. Summer, oh, Summer. She stood a bit apart, slinging a duffel over her shoulder, but her eyes were locked on Heather, scanning her up and down with an intensity that bordered on hunger. Is she, ogling Mom? Like, checking her out? Nah, can't be. John's mind spun, the dream's echoes making everything feel surreal.
The group spotted him in the window, waving him out. John stepped onto the porch, the warm Texas air hitting him like a wave. Heather was first to approach, arms open wide. "John, sweetie! There you are." She pulled him into a tight hug, her body pressing against his-soft breasts against his chest, the faint scent of jasmine shampoo and something muskier, like sex and sweat. He hugged back awkwardly, hyper-aware of how good she felt, the dream's intimacies flashing unbidden.
Pulling back, Heather's warm brown eyes met his, a playful sparkle in them that wasn't quite, her. "So, what did you get up to while we were gone? Play any good games?" She tilted her head, smiling. "That Elden Ring you mentioned-is it still as interesting as you said? The fire giant boss sounds brutal."
John froze, his brain short-circuiting. What? Mom knows about Elden Ring? The fire giant? I never told her that. He'd rambled about it to friends, sure, but Heather? She barely knew Mario from Minecraft. "Uh, yeah, it's cool. Beat it finally." His voice came out strained, confusion mounting.
Heather winked-actually winked-at him, leaning in closer so her breath tickled his ear. "Good boy. We should chat later about some, RPGs and scenarios we could try out. When we have more privacy." Her hand lingered on his arm, a subtle squeeze that sent a jolt straight to his groin. RPGs? Scenarios? Like roleplay? What the fuck is going on? Is she, flirting? With me? Her son? His mind reeled, the dream's body swap theory suddenly not so dreamlike. No way. Did it actually happen? Was I really in her body? And she, in mine?
He stammered a response-"Sure, Mom, sounds fun?"-but recovered enough to glance at the others. Jessica and Amy were busy with bags, chatting animatedly about the spa's hot tubs. Summer, though, waved from afar, her taller frame stunning in shorts and a crop top that showcased her E-cup bust and toned midriff. "Bye, John! Catch you later?" she called, blowing him a kiss with a wink. Then, when Jessica and Amy turned away, she mouthed "Thank you," her lips forming the words clearly, followed by a scissoring motion with her fingers-index and middle crossing like grinding legs.
John's jaw dropped, heat flooding his face-and his pants. Scissoring? Like, what we did in the dream? Thank you? For what? Confusion crashed over him like a tidal wave. This can't be coincidence. It happened. The swap was real. And Summer, she knows? Or thinks it was Mom? Fuck, I need answers. He waved back weakly, hoping to grill Heather later for insights.
The goodbyes wrapped up quickly-Jessica and Summer heading next door, Amy disappearing inside with her bags. Heather shot John one last knowing smile before following Amy, leaving him on the porch, mind spinning like a glitchy game.
Later that day, the living room hummed with normalcy-or what passed for it. John lounged on the couch, controller in hand but game paused, his thoughts a whirlwind. Amy sprawled nearby, scrolling her phone, while Heather sat in the armchair, flipping through a magazine but stealing glances at him. She's different. More, aware? Flirty? If the swap happened, does she remember? Did she experience my body while I was in hers? The taboo implications made his cock stir uncomfortably-imagining Heather in his teenage form, maybe even jerking off, exploring.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, jolting him. An unknown number, but the message preview showed a link and a heart emoji. He pulled it out, opening the text: "Hey John, it's Summer. Hope you enjoy these pics from the trip ;) Maybe we can meet up later to explore and have some 'fun'? as she was curious about meeting the real John," Attached was a link to a private photo album.
Summer? Texting me? With a winky face? Heart pounding, he clicked the link, the album loading in his browser. First, innocent group shots: the four women in sexy outfits at the spa-Heather in that white bikini, cleavage enhanced; Summer frolicking in the pool, water glistening on her curves; Jessica posing like a model; Amy laughing in her swimsuit. Selfies galore, all playful and hot.
But scrolling deeper, the tone shifted. Sexy solos: Summer in her robe, parted to show a nipple; Heather-Mom-in the nightgown, hand cupping her breast suggestively. Then nudes: Summer sprawled on the bed, legs spread, fingers teasing her pussy; Heather mirroring, her modest breasts bared, fingers dipped into her slit. And the foreplay shots-oh God-the two together: kissing passionately, Summer's larger tits mashed against Heather's; fingers intertwined in each other's pussies; scissoring positions, bodies grinding, faces contorted in pleasure. Explicit, unfiltered-cum-slicked thighs, moaning expressions captured in selfies.
John nearly dropped his phone, his cock instantly hard, straining against his jeans. This is, from last night. The 'dream.' But real. They did this. Summer and, Mom? Or me in Mom's body? And she's sending it to me? The message's words echoed: Curious about the real John. Did she know? Suspect the swap?
Amy glanced over. "You okay, bro? Look like you saw a ghost."
"Yeah, fine," he muttered, shoving the phone into his pants-right over his bulge, the vibration from another buzz making him twitch. Confront Mom? Text Summer back? What the hell is going on? But beneath the confusion, gratitude bloomed. Whoever-whatever-made this happen, thank you. He rejoined the conversation with a dazed smile, intrigued and aroused, the album's secrets burning in his pocket like a promise of more taboo adventures to come.
Epilogue: Revelations and Resolutions
The weeks following the spa trip blurred into a haze of normalcy laced with undercurrents of the extraordinary, like a dream that refused to fully dissipate. Willow Creek simmered under the relentless Texas sun, barbecues and pool parties filling the air with laughter and the scent of grilled burgers, but for John, every glance at Heather or text from Summer carried the weight of unspoken secrets. The photo album burned a hole in his phone's hidden folder-explicit reminders of a night he both cherished and questioned. Was it really me in her body? Or did some cosmic force just, make it happen? And Mom-why does she act like she knows more than she's letting on? He'd caught her staring at him during family dinners, a knowing smirk playing on her lips, her usual modest demeanor laced with a playful edge that mirrored his own geeky humor.
It all came to a head one humid evening, about two weeks after the trip. Amy had gone out with friends for a movie night, leaving the house quiet except for the hum of the AC and the distant chirp of crickets. John found Heather in the living room, lounging on the couch in a simple tank top and shorts that hugged her fit figure, her brunette hair loose and tousled. She was scrolling through her phone, but set it aside when he entered, her warm brown eyes lighting up with that new, intriguing sparkle. "Hey, sweetie. Come sit. We haven't had a real chat since the trip."
John's heart pounded as he sank into the armchair across from her, his mind racing. Now or never. Confront her. Figure out what the hell happened. He cleared his throat, trying to sound casual. "Mom, about that wink the day you got back. And asking about my games. You never cared about that stuff before. What's going on?"
Heather's expression softened, but there was a flush to her cheeks, a mix of guilt and something, excited? She leaned forward, her modest B-cup breasts shifting under the tank top, drawing his eye involuntarily-a taboo flicker he shoved down. "John, honey, I need to confess something. That night before the trip, when you, well, I heard you in your room. Wishing aloud about Summer. It was late, and I was passing by to check on you. I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but, it stirred something in me."
John's face burned, embarrassment mingling with shock. She heard me jerking off? Wishing to get closer to Summer? "Mom, I-"
She held up a hand, her voice steady but laced with vulnerability. "Let me finish. I've always felt responsible for you, especially after your dad. And hearing that wish, it unlocked memories of my own wilder days. College experiments, curiosities I buried. But that night, something shifted. Like a, spark. The next morning, I woke up feeling different. More alive. And during the trip," She trailed off, biting her lip, her eyes darting away as if reliving it. God, what did I do? With Summer-my daughter's best friend. It felt so right, so intense. But was it me? Or something else?
"What about the trip?" John pressed, leaning in, his pulse racing. She thinks she did it. With Summer. But it was me-in her body.
Heather sighed, running a hand through her hair-a gesture so like his own nervous tic that it sent a chill down his spine. "Summer and I, we got close. Intimate. She came to my room that night, and I, I went with it. Roleplayed, explored. It was like I was channeling something younger, hornier. Like parts of you, maybe? Your energy?" She laughed softly, but it was tinged with self-doubt. "I feel responsible. For crossing lines with her. She's Amy's friend, and I'm, well, me. But it happened, and now I can't stop thinking about it. The thrill, the taboo."
John's mind whirled. She wasn't in my body. No swap for her. But she felt it-my influence? My personality bleeding through? Internally, relief and arousal battled: So it was me, fully. But she thinks it was her own will. And now she's, changed? Showing my traits? "Mom, that's, intense. But why the game talk? The winks?"
She smiled, a playful glint in her eye that was unmistakably his own geeky charm. "Since that night, I've felt more, adventurous. Like I've got this new side. Your side? I've even looked up some of those videos you might like. Body swap stuff, gender transformations. Kinky, right?" She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper, laced with a seductive lilt he'd heard in her body. "What if we roleplayed one? Just us. I could be the son, you the mom-or swap it. Explore those scenarios. It'd be our secret. Fun, taboo, intimate."
John's cock stirred at the suggestion, the taboo heat of it overwhelming. Mom wants to roleplay a body swap? With me? Fuck, that's my kink. But she's my step-mom, He swallowed hard, nodding slowly. "I, yeah. Maybe. We can talk about it."
Heather's eyes sparkled, reaching out to squeeze his hand. "Good. I love you, John. And I'm sorry if I overstepped with Summer. But it felt, right." She pulled back, the moment heavy with unspoken possibilities, leaving John dazed as she headed upstairs. She's got my personality now. Wants to play out my fantasies. This summer's just getting weirder-and hotter.
As the days stretched into the final week of summer break, the neighborhood buzzed with back-to-school prep, but John's focus narrowed to Summer. Texts had flown between them-flirty at first, then explicit: shared memories of the album pics, teasing promises of "meeting the real John." She knows something. That 'thank you' and scissor motion-it's like she suspects I was involved. Amy headed back to college early for orientation, and Heather busied herself with work, leaving John with pockets of freedom. The climax came on a sultry Friday evening, a text from Summer lighting up his phone: "Meet me at the old park trailhead. 8 PM. Alone. Got something to show you, and do to you. ;)"
The park was a secluded spot on the edge of town-winding trails through woods, a hidden clearing by a creek where teens snuck off for privacy. John arrived as the sun dipped low, fireflies flickering in the dusk, his nerves electric. Summer waited on a picnic blanket, looking ethereal in a short sundress that hugged her taller frame, her blonde waves glowing in the fading light, E-cup breasts straining the fabric. "John," she purred, standing to hug him-bodies pressing close, her curves against his lean form. "Finally. The real you."
They sat, the air thick with tension, a bottle of wine between them. "Summer, those pics. The trip. What happened with, Mom?" He hesitated, probing.
She smiled mysteriously, sipping wine. "Oh, I know, John. You were responsible. Somehow. That night with Heather-it was you in there, wasn't it? Your energy, your kinks spilling out. The way she switched touches, knew my favorite scenes, it was too perfect. Too you." She leaned in, her hand on his thigh. "Don't ask how I know. A girl's got her secrets. But thank you. It opened my eyes. Made me want the original."
John's breath hitched, arousal surging. She knows. Doesn't care how. Wants me. "Summer, I-"
"Shh." She kissed him, soft at first, then hungry-tongues dancing, her larger body pressing him back onto the blanket. Hands roamed: hers under his shirt, nails raking his chest; his cupping her ass, squeezing the firm cheeks. "I've wanted this since that hug when I got home. But now, after tasting a piece of you, I need the full thing."
She pushed him flat, unzipping his jeans with deft fingers, freeing his hardening cock-thick and veined, already leaking pre-cum. "Look at you. Real boy parts." She licked her lips, blue eyes locked on his as she lowered her head. Her mouth enveloped him-warm, wet, tongue swirling the head, sucking gently at first, then deeper. John groaned, hands in her blonde hair, as she bobbed-taking him halfway, then all, throat relaxing around him. Fuck, her mouth, so skilled. Bigger tits bouncing as she sucks. She hummed, vibrations sending shocks through him, one hand stroking the base while the other fondled his balls.
"Summer, God, yes," he moaned, hips bucking lightly. She popped off briefly, grinning. "Taste different. Saltier. Love it." Back down, faster now-sloppy, saliva dripping, her free hand slipping under her dress to rub her pussy. The sight pushed him close, but she sensed it, pulling off with a wet pop. "Not yet. Want you inside me first."
She straddled him, dress hiked up-no panties, her wet pussy hovering over his cock. "Condom?" he gasped.
"On the pill. Clean. You?" He nodded, and she sank down-tight, hot walls gripping him inch by inch, her E-cups bouncing as she rode. "Fuck, John, feels so good. Different from scissoring, but, perfect." She ground her hips, clit rubbing against his base, moans filling the clearing. John thrust up, hands on her breasts-squeezing, pinching nipples-then flipped her onto her back, pounding deeper. Positions shifted: missionary, her legs over his shoulders for depth; doggy, ass jiggling as he slapped it lightly; cowgirl again, her taller body dominating.
Orgasms built-hers first, pussy clenching around him, crying out as she came. He followed, pulling out to cum on her stomach-hot ropes painting her skin. Breathless, they collapsed, laughing softly. "The real John's even better," she whispered, kissing him. "More this summer? And beyond?"
"Absolutely," he replied, the gender-bending whirlwind of the break culminating in this raw, real connection. As stars emerged overhead, John thanked whatever force had twisted his wish into this taboo, erotic reality-closer to Summer than ever, inside and out.
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Liam and Chloe is a couple and been dating each other for a long time. They enjoy their life, adventure, and even have sex. Suddenly, after they're climax, Chloe's body starts to glow and transforms into a different woman.
After Chloe transforms into Beatrice, he finds it kinky with her transformation or regeneration when she changes into someone else. Plus, it's hard to imagine that Beatrice was his girlfriend. Then again, it's way better than Doctor Who.
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Similar Stories on Outfox
(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.
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.)
All characters are 18 or older.
Rachel Smith came home from school exhausted. She did not want to think about going back to school for tomorrow, the tests she’d taken today alone had mentally drained her and going back tomorrow to finish the rest of them was not a pleasant thought. At least that would be their last day of testing for a while. I almost forgot Rachel thought as she plopped down onto the couch, I promised Elizabeth and Susan I'd check up on them.
Me: Hey all!
How were the tests?
Elizabeth: Ugh!
Don’t talk to me about them right now, alright?
Susan: I don’t think I did too well, honestly
Think I’m going to flunk biology at this rate…
I hope I’ll still be able to graduate though
Me: I’m not sure how the colleges will take that
You know, failing thing?
Susan: omg
Rachel, shut up.
Did you even do your tests?
Or were you doing your little “cheating”?
Rachel paused. Of course, she hadn’t cheated today, the thought hadn’t even crossed her mind to do so. Afterall, if she had, what would have been the point of all those sleepless nights studying for all this? But… I mean… for English, Matthew will be in the same class as me… Rachel swallowed, not sure if this was something she was really considering doing, then again, it would make her life a lot easier. As far as she knew, no one was able to tell what happened to them after she left, although there was the problem that she wouldn’t be able to stay inside them for too long, otherwise she might not have enough time to write down the answers on her own test.
Rachel shook her head and picked up her phone again:
Me:As if!
Unlike some people, I wouldn’t use my powers for selfish reasons!
Elizabeth: Girl,
You used them to see how large Trevor’s penis was
Me: That wasn’t selfish!
That was for science!
Anyway
I promise you girls I didn’t cheat
Well, she didn’t cheat today anyway. But tomorrow, well that was another story. Although Elizabeth and Susan didn’t need to know that. It wouldn’t be fair to them if they knew she was having an easier time just because of something like this. It’s funny how it all happened.
There were three of them, Rachel, Elizabeth, and Susan. Susan was the shortest of them, with tanned skin and dark hair. Elizabeth was the tallest, standing taller than even some of the boys at their school. Unlike Susan and Rachel, Elizabeth had lean muscles all along her body, although most people wouldn’t notice as she kept her clothes on the baggier side. And then there was Rachel who stood shorter than Elizabeth, but taller than Susan. Rachel’s red hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail and she was laughing at a joke Susan said.
They had taken a break from studying for their upcoming tests when Rachel noticed a yard sale in their neighborhood run by an old woman. When asked, the woman gave them a sad smile and told them most of these things belonged to either her late husband or her daughter, both of whom sadly passed away in a car accident a few weeks back.
While Elizabeth was consoling the woman, Rachel decided to look through some of the belongings that were up for sale. Some old clothes, a few sports equipment, and some books. Rachel paused when she noticed a box of books mostly hidden behind some golf clubs. She peered over the top, and nearly squealed when she saw they were first edition copies of Jane Smith’s Dearest Diary series. Is this the whole collection? Rachel wondered, flipping through some of the books in the box. It was indeed.
“Excuse me?” Rachel asked, “How much for the box of them?”
The old woman gave a small smile and walked closer, examining the thing that caught Rachel’s eye, “For the set, I’d say twenty dollars should do the trick,” the woman replied, “Hazel loved this when she was a kid.”
Rachel eagerly handed the woman the money and as soon as she took the box in her hands the woman piped up again, “Oh, I think my dear Tom might’ve left something in one of those books. He always liked getting into some trouble, if you find it it’s yours to keep!”
Trouble? Rachel smiled and waved for Elizabeth and Susan to follow her as they went back to her house. Once they were in his room, Rachel immediately got to work making room in her bookshelf to store those books. While she was doing so, Elizabeth and Susan were making light jokes at her expense, out of all the things in that yard sale, Rachel got books, most of which she already owned.
Of course you wouldn’t understand the pleasure of a first edition book you love Rachel thought, placing five of the twelve books in her bookcase. Something slipped out from between the pages of book six though. Rachel frowned, and bent down to pick it up, “What’s that?” Susan asked, as she and Elizabeth got closer.
“It looks like a letter,” Rachel replied, picking it up in her hands.
“Should we open it?” Susan asked.
“We probably shouldn’t,” Elizabeth replied, “it’s not ours.”
“That old lady said we could have whatever we find inside.” Rachel reminded her, getting ready to open it.
Elizabeth stepped forward and made a swipe for the letter, “What if it’s something dangerous? Like… drugs or something?”
Rachel managed to fend her off and Susan helped hold Elizabeth back, “We won’t know until we try. Besides, aren’t you two just the tiniest bit curious?”
Elizabeth swallowed, but didn’t answer. Susan, however, was nodding her head enthusiastically. That was all Rachel needed and she opened the envelope, not sure what might be inside.
To little fanfare, all that was inside was just a letter, “It looks like a simple letter,” Rachel revealed with a sigh.
“What’s it say?” Susan asked.
Rachel held the letter up, the handwriting wasn’t the greatest, and neither was the paper quality, but eventually she managed to work out the words. She read aloud:
To Hazel,
I want you to have something of mine. It’s a little trick I’ve picked up from my travels when I was younger. Maybe one day I’ll tell you where I found it, but until that day comes, I will leave with this and this alone.
Now, I don’t want to tell you much of the details of what I got up to with this little trick of mine, but just know that I know what to look for so don’t you think about causing any trouble with this, alright?
Rachel frowned when she tried to read beyond that point. She wasn’t sure if maybe the old man’s writing got particularly bad or if he was writing in another language, but she couldn’t make heads or tails of what was written after. It all just looked like a bunch of squiggly symbols.
“What’s wrong?” Susan asked.
“I can’t read anything else,” Rachel replied.
“Well maybe that’s for the best then,” Elizabeth said as Rachel stared harder at the words, “afterall, this seems like something intimate between a dad and his daughter, I don’t think it’s really our place to - OH MY GOD!”
At first, Rachel wasn’t sure what got Elizabeth so excited, and then Susan started freaking out too. They were shouting at her to drop the letter, and Rachel looked at them, not sure why they were freaking out, but then she realized the paper was burning in her hands.
She sucked in a breath, but before she could even think of letting go, the fire completely enveloped the paper, however, as the fire burned Rachel swore the strange words glowed white hot against the fire. What happened next, Rachel wasn’t exactly sure, the fire and the words flowed into her and Rachel felt something tugging at her very being. Suddenly, she felt herself lurching forward and she stumbled back until her back hit the wall.
“Ow!” Rachel cried out as the back of her head protested in pain.
“Rachel, oh my god, are you alright?” Susan cried.
Rachel, still with her eyes closed, replied, “I’m fine, just a little bump.”
“Elizabeth, this is serious!” Susan nearly shrieked.
Rachel opened her eyes, and she noticed she was taller, and her body felt stronger than it had before. She wiped some stray blonde strands from her face -- wait, blonde hair?
She looked over at Susan and saw she was crouching over Rachel’s own body. Rachel stared in horror, lifting up her hands to see they weren’t actually her hands, but were actually Elizabeth’s.
“Elizabeth!” Susan hissed, “Don’t just stand there! Get help!”
“I’m not Elizabeth!” Rachel breathed.
“What?”
“I said I’m not Elizabeth!” Rachel said, “I’m Rachel,” she pointed to her own body on the floor, “that… that’s my body… except,” she looked down at herself again, “I’m not in it.”
“Is Elizabeth in there?” Susan asked.
Hello? Rachel thought, Hello? Elizabeth! Are you there? She shook her head and crouched down beside her own body. Her body was still breathing, that was good, at least it wouldn’t die without her inside. She tried poking and prodding, but no response.
“Elizabeth isn’t in this body,” Rachel replied, “and it looks like mine’s empty.”
Before either of them could think of what happened, the door opened and Rachel’s mom came in. She was gasping for breath, “Girls! What happened? Why were you screaming?”
“O-oh! Mo-Mrs. Smith!” Rachel began, trying to think of a way out of this, “There was… a spider hiding in the books! A big one! It scared us all until we managed to kill it, but… I think Rachel fainted from the sight of it.”
Rachel’s mom sighed, “Well, that’s alright,” she frowned at the sight of Rachel’s body unconscious on the floor, “I think you should make sure Rachel didn’t hurt herself when she fell, it could be serious.”
“We will,” Susan piped up, “thanks, Mrs. Smith!”
With that, Rachel’s mom, thankfully left the room and Rachel and Susan were still trying to figure out what happened. Am I trapped here? Rachel wondered, How do I get back to my body?
“Can you get out of her?” Susan asked.
“I don’t know!” Rachel replied, running her fingers through Elizabeth’s blonde hair, “I’m-I’m trying to think!”
“Well what happened that made you go inside her?” Susuan asked.
“I-I-I don’t know!” Rachel hissed, “I just felt something pulling at me and one second I was in my body and the next I’m in Elizabeth’s!”
Susan looked around, trying to see if there were any remains of the paper left that might explain what happened. While she was doing so, Rachel was taking a few deep breaths as she looked back at her body on the floor. Alright, I’ll… see if I can’t replicate that, somehow.
Sitting down, Rachel closed her eyes and imagined herself, a ghost of herself, getting outside of Elizabeth’s body. She kept the image, concentrating harder and harder until she felt something, like a hook pulling at her. Is it working? Can I get out of here?
Rachel focused on that feeling and imagined that hook pulling her out of Elizabeth’s body. The feeling of pulling grew stronger and stronger until Elizabeth shuddered and Rachel was able to slip out. Only… she wasn’t back in her body.
She floated outside, like a ghost. From this, she was able to see her body still on the floor and Elizabeth slowly regaining consciousness. She went over towards her body, feeling a slight pull, but hesitated when she noticed Susan was still searching for any clue of what might’ve happened, crouching down to look for any remains of that strange letter.
Rachel smiled, feeling a little mischievous, it wouldn’t be fair if only Liz got possessed, afterall. She floated closer to Susan and felt a slight pull as she got closer. She plunged herself into Susuan just as she was standing up and Susan shuddered, gasped, and then Rachel opened her eyes and found herself in Susan’s body.
Elizabeth groaned, “Ow… I think I hit my head… Oh my-! Rachel! Are you-?”
“I’m fine,” Rachel replied, facing Elizabeth.
“Susan, this isn’t the time for joking around, I think Rachel’s-”
Rachel held up a hand, “Liz, relax, it’s me, Rachel. I think that letter was a spell of some kind… it put me in your body and then I was able to get out and decided to possess Susan.”
Elizabeth swallowed, frowning, “You really expect me to believe that?”
“I know it sounds far-fetched, but it’s the truth! Look, would Susan really be trying to mess with you if I was really in danger?”
The wheels were turning behind Elizabeth’s eyes, but Rachel knew she still didn’t believe this. “Prove it,” she said, “Tell me something only Rachel would know.”
Rachel thought for a moment, but decided this might be the perfect opportunity to mess with Elizabeth for a bit. “You panicked in the fifth grade when you forgot to buy a gift for Susan’s birthday and had to piggyback off my gift. In middle school you decided to tell me that you thought boys were icky and had no idea why Susan was so interested in them, going as far as calling Maxwell, her current crush at the time, a loser dweeb,” Rachel saw Elizabeth’s expression changing from skeptical to disbelief and knew she believed her, but decided to keep going, “in freshman year you came out to me as a lesbian and I assured you that Susan would accept you, too, and after a week of planning you came out as a lesbian. The day afterwards, I decided to tell you I was bisexual and then told Susan the day after…” Elizabeth was looking a bit red in the face now, “and last year, you and I shared a kiss behind the school to test things out. We didn’t tell Susan and while we fooled around, we decided it was better to stay as friends.”
Elizabeth was covering her face with her hands now, “Jeez, I believed you after the second thing, you didn’t need to keep going.”
Rachel giggled and gave Elizabeth a quick peck on the cheek. She barely had time to react before Elizabeth lashed out, swiping at her with her hand. Rachel kept laughing, although she made sure to cover her face with her arms, “Woah! Careful, Liz! This is Susan’s body, you know!”
“I know,” Elizabeth growled, “and can you please get out of her? I’m already freaking out enough now.”
Rachel smiled and prepared herself to leave again. The pull came easier now, and she was able to easily slip out of Susan’s body and entered her own. She got up, wincing as she felt where her body had hit the floor when she flew out of it. Ow! I guess I have to be careful when I leave because I’ll feel the pain when I come back in! Ow!
While Rachel was tending to the ache in her head, Susan got up and looked around, confused as to why she was no longer near the bookshelf. She noticed, however, that both Elizabeth and Rachel were up. “What happened?” Susan asked slowly, “No way, Rachel? Did you possess me?”
“I thought it was the best way to explain to Elizabeth what happened,” Rachel replied, still rubbing her head, “Don’t worry, nothing happened while you were gone.”
“Yes,” Elizabeth replied, looking at Rachel with a dark expression, “nothing happened.”
“So neither of you were aware of anything while I was inside you?” Rachel asked, starting to get to her feet.
“Last thing I remembered before coming to was freaking out because that letter was on fire,” Elizabeth replied, “after that… I woke up on the floor.”
“Same,” Susan replied, “I was just looking for anything that might tell us what was happening when everything went black and then I was on the floor.”
After that little episode, the three of them decided to test out potential limits for Rachel’s powers. As far as they can tell, there was no distance limit to how far away she can get from her body, nor did there appear to be a time limit to how long Rachel can stay outside her body, although she didn’t want to stay out of it for too long as her body still needed to eat. As a ghost, Rachel wasn’t able to travel very fast, only going about walking speed, but she was able to go through walls and fly. She didn’t test out if she could possess animals because she was scared she might not be able to leave.
The three of them had some fun for her powers, with one of the first things Rachel did was possess Susan’s crush, Trevor, and go through his phone to look for any clues about what he might be interested in. Rachel found him alone in his room studying when she came upon him. As she slipped inside, Trevor shuddered and gasped, “What the f-!” before Rachel completely took over.
So, this is what it’s like being a boy, Rachel thought, flexing her arms, I could get used to this, anyway, time to see if I can find anything he’s interested in. His phone was, thankfully, unlocked and after combing through it, she gasped when she found his gallery and the stuff that was inside it. There were numerous pictures of girls in various states of undress, Rachel recognized them as being in her same grade and covered her mouth. Oh my… I never would’ve thought Trevor got around this much!
These pictures looked like they were taken by the girls themselves too, and they usually winked or smiled at the camera, no doubt intending this as a gift for Trevor for later. I need to tell Susan, now! she quickly messaged Susan from Trevor’s phone before deleting the conversation on his end so he wouldn’t have any evidence that she had been messing around with his stuff.
Rachel sighed and was about to leave Trevor’s body when she felt something pressing hard against her pants. Don’t tell me… she looked down and gasped when she saw Trevor’s boner winking at her. She licked her lips, she shouldn’t, she really shouldn’t, but… well she was always curious about what masturbating with a penis felt like and Trevor had plenty of material on his phone to get her going.
I'm going to masturbate as a boy!
Susan: Elizabeth is saying not to, but I wanna see a dick pic!
Alright! Before she could second guess the morality of the situation, Rachel got to her feet and locked herself in the bathroom before ripping off Trevor’s pants. Trevor’s penis wasn’t anything special, a bit on the smaller and slimmer side, but it reacted quickly to Rachel’s touch. She sent a quick picture to Susan before erasing all the evidence from Trevor’s phone before she got to work.
She opened Trevor’s gallery again, scrolling through the various pictures he had, all of it was making her feel warm and she quickly discovered a rhythm to stroking his cock. Mmh, Veronica definitely has a nice body! Rachel thought, sucking in a breath through clenched teeth, as she stared at a photo of a mostly naked Veronica, And Abigail's hot! Who knew she was hiding all that under her baggy clothes? Trevor’s dick was twitched in her hand as she scrolled his gallery, the pleasure beginning to overcome her. It was much faster than masturbating as a girl, and she could feel the pressure rising within herself. With one final grunt, Rachel experienced her first orgasm as a guy and decided it would be funny to leave Trevor in his own sperm soaked mess.
Susan decided not to pursue Trevor, not because of the various pictures on his phone, but because she thought his dick was too small, but Rachel thought she was caring too much about the wrong things, it felt perfect to her, the pictures on his phone, however, that would have turned her off of him if she had even been interested.
It was crazy to think that had all only been a few days ago, and now here she was, in class once again about to use her power to help her cheat on her tests. It was easy enough getting out of her own skin, she just had to make sure to make it look like she was thinking and not passed out in class. After leaving her body, she made her way to Matthew without much trouble and got inside of him.
As usual, there was a slight struggle as her consciousness overpowered the person already in here, but thankfully all Matthew did was let out a small gasp. Alright, I’m in! Rachel quickly flipped through Matthew’s test, doing her best to memorize what answers he’d pick before she returned to her own body.
As she left Matthew though, she saw something strange when she came back out. For a moment, she thought she saw a blur of something vaguely person-shaped slip into the body of one of the girls in class, a quiet girl with big glasses named Vanessa, someone Rachel rarely spoke to, but had heard some of the boys whisper about excitedly. At first, Rachel thought she imagined it until Vanessa gave the telltale shudder and gasped. What?
A wicked smile etched itself on Vanessa’s mouth and she raised her hand and asked to leave to go to the bathroom. Rachel was curious, wanting to see what was going on before she remembered she hadn’t written down any of the answers. Quickly, she returned to her own body and copied down the answers she’d gotten from Matthew, making sure to occasionally mark a different answer so she didn’t get flagged for cheating. Although how exactly they would prove she’d cheated was beyond her, it was better not to take any chances here.
From there, Rachel waited, keeping an eye on the clock. She’d finished her own test and almost an hour passed but Vanessa still wasn’t back. I need to go check on her. Putting her head down, Rachel slipped out of her body and left the classroom. She heard Vanessa, or whoever was inside Vanessa, say she was going to the bathroom so that’s where Rachel headed.
She slipped inside and immediately heard crying, mixed in with mumblings of words. Worried, Rachel came closer, stopping when she saw a pile of clothes, Vanessa’s clothes, laying in a puddle of water in front of the sinks and Vanessa huddled naked against the wall, crying.
Vanessa made little effort to hide her body, as her hands were busy covering her face rather than anything else, leaving her small breasts exposed, as well as exposing her shaved pussy. As she got closer, Rachel noticed something leaking from Vanessa’s vagina, like she had been aroused earlier.
What happened here? Rachel thought.
She approached Vanessa, examining her to see if something was wrong. It didn’t look like someone was inside her, but Rachel had no idea what happened. Naturally she couldn’t ask Vanessa this, and even if she could Vanessa wouldn’t have any memory of what happened when she was possessed.
Rachel looked down at the clothes on the floor. They were wet, and wouldn’t look like they’d dry until after the test. I… I need to help her. Rachel went inside Vanessa. She gasped as she found herself in control of the other girl's body, and shivered from the coldness of the bathroom tile against her naked skin.
She couldn’t help but notice something else. This body felt good like it had just recently orgasmed. Rachel gulped, and stood up. She grabbed as many paper towels as she could and went to work trying to dry off Vanessa’s clothes. It wouldn’t get it all out, but that wasn’t the plan.
She slipped the clothes on, shivering intensely at how cold everything was before leaving the bathroom where one of the hall monitors noticed her and flagged her down.
“Young lady,” he began, “why on earth are you soaking wet?”
“There’s a problem with the sink,” Rachel lied, “it sprayed water all over me when I tried to wash my hands.”
The hall monitor sighed, “Well, I can’t let you return to your classroom like this, follow me, we’ll see if we can get you some dry clothes from the lost and found.”
Vanessa returned to class wearing an oversized hoodie along with a pair of sweatpants that were slightly too big for her. It didn’t help that they both smelled of sweat and body odor, but at least now Vanessa could finish her test. Feeling extra helpful, Rachel decided to fill in the answers for her that she took from Matthew, again, making sure she separated them from her own answers. Alright, I hope this goes well for her, Rachel thought as she got ready to leave her body poor girl.
With that, she returned to her own body and waited until the bell rang and class was let out to go to lunch. Is there someone else here with powers like mine? she wondered as she grabbed her belongings. Rachel glanced around the room, wondering if maybe whoever it was might’ve been in the room with her. No, she hadn’t noticed anyone else seemingly passed out like how she looks when she becomes a ghost. Someone from outside her classroom then, but staff or student? Boy or girl? As Rachel walked into the hallway and towards the cafeteria, she continued to glance around as more and more students came into the hall. Any one of them could have powers like hers.
Rachel thankfully managed to find Susan and Elizabeth during lunch. She was worried they would have different lunch schedules because of the test, but that wasn’t the case. Elizabeth and Susan were in the middle of talking about what they were going to do after the test. They almost didn’t notice Rachel sitting down next to them until she asked, “Hey, has anyone in your class acted… weird today?”
“Well hello to you, too, Rachel,” Susan replied, “anyway… no, not really. Why? Did something happen?”
Rachel lowered her voice, it wouldn’t be good if whoever was behind this overheard what she was going to tell them. No telling how this other person would react. “During the test… you know that quiet girl, Vanessa? I saw someone jump into her and, after some time had passed, I decided to follow using my powers…” she paused as she gathered herself to prepare to explain what happened next as she was still shaken by the sight of it, “when I found her in the bathroom, she was naked and all of her clothes had been soaked in the sink. When I hopped inside of her I also felt like… like she had just orgasmed.”
Susan and Elizabeth gasped and leaned back in their seats, their eyes wide with horror. “What did you do?” Elizabeth asked.
“I dried off her clothes the best I could,” Rachel explained, “afterwards, I picked up some clothes from the lost and found and finished her test for her.” After she finished, Rachel looked around the cafeteria, wondering if anyone had been listening in to their conversation. None of the students seemed to notice or care, being far more interested in their own meals or conversations. Still, Rachel felt her skin crawl at the thought that the person responsible was in this room with them.
“Should…” Susan hesitated, “should we do something about this?”
“What can we do?” Elizabeth asked, “I don’t think any member of the staff will believe us if we tell them what happened and I’m not sure if there’s anything we can do to this creep without putting ourselves in harm's way!”
“I might be able to do something.” Rachel said.
“Rachel, no-” Elizabeth began.
“I’m the only one with powers like this,” Rachel cut her off, “I’m the only one who would be able to see them, and I might be able to put a stop to all this.”
“Rachel,” Elizabeth said, “please be careful, alright? From what you said, I… don’t feel comfortable with you going to confront this guy alone.”
“Elizabeth is right,” Susan agreed, “what if he’s, I don’t know, able to turn the tables on you?”
Rachel swallowed, feeling sick, “I don’t know,” she replied honestly, “but I can’t just sit here and do nothing.”
For the rest of the day, Rachel was on high alert, keeping a close eye on any of her classmates to see if they acted off. However, nothing happened. At least, not in her class anyway. After the tests were over and everyone got their phones back, Rachel was immediately hit with several messages from both Susan and Elizabeth.
Elizabeth: Rachel, we have a problem
He struck again.
Melissa, you know, the girl in the school band with the freckles?
She left for the restroom and didn’t come back
Going to check on her now
Susan: Rachel, problem.
several girls were straight up missing when we came back
The teacher didn’t know what happened to them
Some of their friends said the girls left during lunch and then they just didn’t come back
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! Rachel took in a breath, and as calmly as she could, she looked around for anything suspicious. She almost missed it, but she saw one of the girls in the cheer leading team, a tall brunette named Victoria, suddenly gasp and shudder, stopping briefly mid walk and suddenly turning around with a slight smile on her face. Bingo.
Me:I found him. I’m going to follow him for a bit and see what happens
Elizabeth: Careful.
Susan: Stay safe
With that, Rachel put her phone away and followed Victoria, or rather the person possessing Victoria, through the hallways. She made sure to keep her distance, didn’t want whoever was inside Victoria getting suspicious about her, but she also made sure to keep Victoria in her line of sight so she wouldn’t get away.
At first, Rachel thought the possessor would take Victoria into another bathroom, but no, whoever it was was taking Victoria inside the girls locker room. No one else was inside when Victoria walked in, and Rachel was barely able to slip in herself without the door closing on her. From there, she decided to hide herself away near the entrance where, hopefully, her body wouldn’t be seen.
Alright, Rachel thought, her mouth a bit dry, I’m going in. She separated herself from her body and floated over in the direction of the lockers.
She wasn’t surprised when she saw Victoria’s body already in a state of undress. Whoever was inside her had already taken off Victoria’s shoes, socks, pants, and shirt, leaving her in just her white bra and panties. The imposter stood in front of the mirror inside Victoria’s locker, admiring Victoria’s body with a wicked grin on her face as her hands reached behind her back to unclip the bra, slipping it off her and allowing Victoria’s full breasts to come into view.
Rachel caught sight of herself in the locker mirror and froze, Oh god, does he see me? The imposter, however, didn’t look like he was able to see ghosts while he was possessing someone, much like how Rachel didn’t see him while she was inside Matthew’s body. While Rachel stood frozen, the imposter took the opportunity to slide off Victoria’s panties and was now standing completely naked in front of the mirror, admiring how Victoria looked. “Oh yeah,” she growled, “much better than that mousy little Vanessa, no idea what the other guys were seeing in her.”
Rachel continued floating over, moving agonizingly slow.
One of Victoria’s hands went to her breasts, cupping them and squeezing the nipples. “Mmm, bigger than Melissa’s,” she moaned, “but not as sensitive-OH!” Victoria arched her back as her fingers slipped inside her vagina, “Oh FUCK! Oh! I think she’s the most sensitive one so far!”
Rachel held out her hands as she got closer to Victoria. Unlike before, where she always felt a slight pull towards the body she was about to enter, here she felt a slight push and she had to force herself to get closer. Fortunately, the imposter didn’t seem to notice, lost as he was busy pleasuring himself in Victoria’s body. As he got closer to the climax, Rachel was able to make her way into Victoria’s body. Get out!
”What the? Who are you? You get out!”
Rachel jerked, causing Victoria’s leg to jerk. Her vision was darkness until she saw flashes of the locker room from Victoria’s perspective. She felt a hand closing in on her throat and wasn’t sure who was the one squeezing, if it was her or the other person. I said… GET OUT1
With a shove, Rachel pushed the other presence out of Victoria and gained control for a brief moment. She looked around and was about to leave when she felt the presence trying to come back in, Victoria’s body started shuddering and Rachel once again found herself fighting for control against this creep.
I won’t let you take advantage of anyone else! Rachel screamed, leaving Victoria’s body, but making sure she dragged the other presence out with her. Bodiless, as ghosts, they both floated in the locker room, and while they had each other’s hands around the other person’s throat, neither of them were able to feel pain, just mild discomfort.
But Rachel gasped when she saw who the other person was. It was Trevor, and he was glaring down at her, but the anger quickly melted into surprise and they both let go, floating a little bit away from each other. “Trevor?” Rachel gasped.
“Rachel?” Trevor gasped.
Rachel thought back to when she searched Trevor’s phone, some of those pictures of the girls were taken from their perspectives, at first, she had thought Trevor was flirting around with all those girls, but could he have actually been possessing them and used them to give himself those pictures?
“How… how long did you have this power?” Rachel asked.
“A month, just about,” Trevor replied, sneering, “I think you can see what I’ve been using it for. You?”
“A little over two weeks.”
Trevor thought for a moment, and his sneer deepened, “Ah, so I guess it was you I have to thank for waking up covered in my own mess that one time. Well, as you can see, you might’ve inspired me to do more with my powers than just simple pictures.”
“Why did you leave them stranded without clothes?”
Trevor shrugged, “I didn’t do that will all of them, just the ones who went out of their way to mock me, judge me, call me a creep! A pervert! Loser!”
Rachel scoffed, “I don’t think they were too far off with those claims seeing what you’ve done,”
“Really?” Trevor asked, coming closer, “You violated me, and then judge me when I do the same? Well, let’s see how you like it then! Your body must be around here, somewhere, right?”
Before she could react, Trevor shoved her aside and started floating off towards the exit of the locker room, right where her body was. Shit! Rachel thought, floating behind him. Trevor glanced behind him as he floated, “Heh, guess I’m getting close.”
Fuck! Rachel thought, I shouldn’t have followed! Now he knows where my body is! She tried going faster, using her ghostly arms and legs to try to propel herself forward, but it was no use, both her and Trevor were going the exact same speed, but Trevor was ahead of her. No.
Her body came into view, slumped over against the wall. Trevor chuckled as he got closer and slowly started to slip inside. NO! Rachel reached forward, forcing herself inside before Trevor could get in her body. She expected resistance, a fight, anything, but she gasped awake as she easily slipped inside her body.
What? Where’s-? Suddenly, she gasped, her body jerking on its own accord, she felt him then, trying to force his way inside of her. Rachel knew then that he wanted her to get inside first, so she’d be trapped while he possessed her. She needed to leave! Now!
“You’re not going anywhere.” Trevor whispered in her mind as Rachel felt the pulling turn into pushing as she forced inside her body as Trevor took control. She continued fighting, but she was quickly losing. She stopped feeling her legs, then her arms, until all she controlled was her eyes and then her vision slowly slipped away as she lost all control. no…
Trevor gasped awake, grinning as he looked down at his hands, Rachel’s hands. Okay Rachel, let’s see how you like being played with. He made his way over to the lockers again, having completely forgotten about Victoria until she finally regained consciousness and shrieked when she discovered she was naked.
“Rachel!” Victoria shrieked, grabbing Rachel’s shirt, “What happened? Why am I naked? Did you see whoever did this?”
Trevor smiled, and leaned closer, kissing Victoria on the lips, when he pulled back, Victoria was staring at him wide eyed, “I’m sorry,” he said, “I just couldn’t resist, especially seeing you like this.”
Victoria pulled away, quickly grabbing her clothes and using them to cover herself, “Rachel, what the hell? This isn’t the time for anything like that!”
Trevor held up his hands, “Easy, easy, I was just suggesting we can take advantage of the moment, you know?”
Victoria’s face went red and she quickly ran out of the locker room. Damn, Trevor thought, watching her go, I was really looking forward to trying sex as a woman. Maybe I came off too strong. Oh well, at least I still have this body.
Trevor stood in front of the mirror of Victoria’s locker. Let’s see what we’re working with here. Trevor went to work, taking off Rachel’s boots first. He was surprised to see she wasn’t wearing any socks, but that was fine, less work for him. Afterwards, her shirt came off, Oh Rachel, naughty girl, underneath, a black bra held back her freckled breasts. I can’t wait to play with those Trevor thought, but first, her pants came off next, and Trevor eagerly ripped off the matching black panties. Oh my! Trevor laughed giddily as the underwear came off, I was not expecting this! Rachel’s pussy was completely shaved, giving him a nice clean view of her mound and puffy lips.
His hands went to his bra, he shook slightly from anticipation before taking it off. Rachel’s breasts weren’t as large as Victoria’s, but they were very soft and bouncy, and the freckles dusting across her skin drew his eyes to her breasts' natural roundness. He swallowed, breathing deeply as heat gathered between Rachel’s legs.
No sense putting all this off, then Without further ado, Trevor sat down and got to work fingering Rachel. Oh! Trevor bit his lip, Rachel’s back arching of its own accord as his fingers slipped inside her warmth, Shit! She’s sensitive! He licked his lips, moaning deeply as he fingered her. He found her clitoris easily and a few flicks nearly incapacitated him from the sheer pleasure.
He grunted, his free hand cupping her breasts and rubbing her erect nipples. Finally, it came. With a loud groan, Trevor felt Rachel’s body climax and laid dazed for a moment, unable to feel his legs. Fuck, Rachel. I think… out of all the bodies I’ve possessed, yours is my favorite. Trevor was about to get up and leave Rachel laying here in her shame when he heard a ding coming from her discarded pants.
It was Rachel’s phone.
Elizabeth: Rachel, you alright?
Did you find out who did it?
Trevor grinned, maybe he might be able to have sex with a woman after all. He just needed to play his cards better this time. Sorry, Rachel, looks like I’m staying in here for a little longer.
Me: Don’t worry, I’m fine.
Wanna meet up at my house?
I’ll tell you what I found out.
Elizabeth: Sure
I’ll bring Susan with me.
Oh, this was just getting better and better.
The End?
However, instead of trying to fix things when she discovers this, Ryan sets her sights on fulfilling her all longheld ambitions with Logan's newfound abilities.
Logan is initially keen with just going along things as he possesses more bodies and pushes the extent of his capabilities. However, when a desire to be more than just her golden goose begins to stir within him, he soon finds himself starting to make plans to fulfill his own longheld desires...
Abstract
In a drab concrete parking structure, sitting inside a car that looked too small for his large frame, a sizable young man silently debated a life choice. It had occupied his mind for days, ever since a certain woman from his past had reached out for the first time in years. Even though he felt indecisive, he had a few mental tools to help him make his mind up. No matter how big the choice, the real decision was whether to start the engine back up and drive away… or open the car door and step out.
…
With a muted pop, the car door swung open.
He had already driven this far, turning back would be a waste of time and gas. Maybe the choice had already been made the very instant he got into his car earlier. Then all the worrying afterwards was just pointless emotion, the last-minute anxiety and doubt that comes with seeing “abandon all hope, ye who enter here” on the gates of hell despite knowing exactly what must be done.
The large man’s heavy footsteps made the only sound in the echoing gray maze. He was a tall mountain of a man that few would challenge physically. He was dressed nicely enough, something a little more than casual, something to wear when reuniting with an old… friend. After exiting the parking structure, he found himself a short distance away from a security booth, its red and white bar hanging guarding the street entrance and a separate pedestrian gate on the opposite side. Behind the booth’s bulletproof glass, a uniformed guard watched the man approach, asking for his ID as soon as he was close enough.
“Name and date of birth?”
“Logan Miller, February 19th. It says on my ID.”
“Reason for visiting?”
“I’m getting a tour from Ryan Everly.”
The guard returned Logan’s ID alongside a freshly printed plastic badge on a lanyard. An audible metallic click could be heard from the pedestrian gate. Logan passed through the gate and headed towards the monolithic building ahead.
As Logan walked, he inspected the plastic badge he was given. At the top, a logo for SynthraForma, followed by VISITOR in bold black letters, then his name, face, and a barcode with small numbers beneath.
Reaching the entrance, he tried the door handle and found it locked. He tried to use his badge on a nearby reader, but it beeped and showed a red light in rejection. Just as Logan was thinking of returning to the guard, the locked doors violently swung open from the inside. Barely dodging the doors, Logan suddenly stood before a stunning woman.
Beautiful red hair that instantly drew stares, captivating hazel eyes that were framed by complementary glasses, flawless skin that supermodels would envy, and a killer figure underneath a white lab coat. Ryan Everly, Logan’s high school best friend that he hadn’t seen since. She cracked a charming smile on her rosy lips, and spoke with her enchanting voice.
“Long time no see. It’s been a while hasn’t it?”
Introduction
Logan hadn’t seen Ryan since graduating high school a considerable number of years ago. In the past she was already pretty, but during the years that he hadn’t seen her, Ryan’s natural beauty was further enhanced to perfection. Judging by her current workplace, her intellect had no problems keeping pace either. Logan gave a polite smile and met Ryan’s mesmerizing eyes.
“Yeah, it sure has. How have you been?”
Ryan’s smile remained, but something subtle changed in her expression.
“Well, I wouldn’t want to lie to a friend. I’ve been a bit busy recently. Deadlines, disappointing results, and demanding superiors. You know how it can be. But anyways, I’m so glad you went out of your way to come here. I really appreciate it.”
Logan did expend quite some effort to get there. Scarce paid-time-off was spent from his job as an office clerk, not to mention the cost of a rental car and hotel. Still, it was a trip that he needed to take for his own sake, not just Ryan’s.
“It’s good to see you too. I can’t wait to see what you’ve been up to. Cured cancer or something?”
Ryan let out a little giggle that played like melodic birdsong in Logan’s ears.
“Well then, let me show you. Welcome to SynthraForma. I obviously can’t give you a full tour of the lab. In fact, even I don’t have access to everything, but I’ll show you what I can. Just a reminder, don’t breathe a word of this to anyone, okay? Not. A single. Breath.”
“Of course. My lips are sealed.”
Ryan accepted Logan’s promise and both of them entered the building. He stepped into a long hallway illuminated by harsh fluorescent lights. Before Logan could go anywhere, Ryan pointed towards a part of the wall next to the door. There was a plastic mount that held a stack of blank forms, a clipboard, and a pen on a string.
“Just a silly little NDA, for the suits and whatnot. Every visitor has to fill one out, but we don’t get that many visitors anyways.”
Logan gave it a quick skim before signing it, submitting the document in an empty slot clearly meant to receive them. Ryan then led him down the hallway. There were no windows inside, only heavy metal doors flanking them on both sides. Occasionally, there were laminated papers taped onto the walls, usually displaying some information or reminder for the employees.
Don’t hold doors open for others.
Keep your badge clearly visible at all times.
Thoroughly wash your hands before eating.
The potluck is this friday.
Finally, the two of them reached a door no different from the others. Ryan used her badge to unlock it and entered with Logan following behind. Now past three layers of security, Logan found himself in an unexpectedly mundane office. There were uniform cubicles to both sides, some with small decorations and knick knacks to add a splash of personality.
“These are our desks. It’s not glamorous, but most of our work happens here. Compiling data, writing reports, reading emails… Not very exciting, but it’s part of the job. This one is mine.”
Ryan’s desk had a computer like the others, with that addition of multiple stacks of books and papers, not to mention a couple of mugs with coffee stains. It looked like Ryan was about to say something, but someone else caught her attention. A woman was approaching them, dressed in the professional attire of a white button-up blouse and suit pants. She looked Asian, around her mid thirties, with light makeup and her hair in a bun. The authoritative click of her heels almost served as an introduction.
“Hello, you must be Ryan’s guest. I hope you don’t mind me interrupting your tour, I just need to have a little chat with Ryan if that’s okay.”
Her words were sharp and assertive, ensuring that no one would challenge them. Logan certainly didn’t want to at least.
“I don’t mind at all. I’m Logan. It’s a pleasure to meet you Miss…”
“Doctor. Doctor Li, SynthraForma research supervisor, pleased to meet you too Logan.”
“Anyways Ryan, I’ll make this quick. The deadline for your current project is coming up. I have great expectations of you, and I’ll make sure that your future assignments will reflect how well you perform here. I’m sure an incredible breakthrough is just on the horizon.”
Doctor Li left as quickly as she arrived, not waiting for Ryan to respond. Looking at Ryan, Logan could tell that she wasn’t particularly happy about her supervisor’s reminder. Her face didn’t give much away, but her silence and stiff body language gave it away. It took her a moment to compose herself, before she returned to Logan.
“I guess the tour wouldn’t be complete without an introduction to my kind and caring supervisor. Anyways, let’s get on with it.”
Ryan left her cubicle and promptly started walking again with Logan in tow. They reached another door that required Ryan’s badge. Logan noticed way more signage on this door than the ones before, being plastered with a variety of colorful symbols and labels warning about hazards of all kinds. Past the door, Logan saw a proper laboratory, filled with multitudes of complex-looking devices.
“Here on the left, high temperature superconductors.”
She carelessly gestured towards a workstation full of electronics, wires, and gas tanks of some kind.
Curiously, there was a plush of a squid on one of the workstation shelves. Ryan continued walking on without sparing a moment for Logan to really look.
“Over here on the right, artificial neural networks composed of lab-grown neurons.”
This workstation had a big microscope, with a collection of slides and plastic petri dishes next to it. Tons of papers, binders, and books filled this station out. Again, Ryan practically walked right past it, barely sparing the effort to mention it in her tour. This continued for the rest of the workstations until they reached the back of the lab.
“And here, in the back corner… my project… the slug project.”
Hypothesis
Ryan gestured to a small rectangular glass tank with some twigs and bedding. Logan had to lean in close to spot the first slug. It was an unremarkable little green thing, no different from something you’d find in somebody’s garden. Still though, being in this lab, there had to be more than met the eye. Or Ryan was pranking him.
Either way, Logan’s best choice was to play along.
“Interesting. What’s special about them?”
“These unassuming little blobs are a new species discovered in the Amazon. They were found in primate brains and initially mistaken for some sort of large parasitic worm. However, their biology and behavior is significantly different. A mature slug, ready to lay eggs, has the unique ability to enter a host’s brain without damaging the surrounding tissue, where it influences the host’s behavior. It compels the host to climb into the forest canopy, where it exits the host’s body and safely lays its eggs high up in the trees.”
Logan looked at the slugs again, watching as one lazily crawled on a leaf of lettuce. Brain slugs huh? It reminded him of something out of a sci-fi show, the image of a big green blob with a single eye coming to mind.
“The higher ups say that they’re interested in the mechanics of how it enters and exits the host's brain without damaging anything. They say that it could be a revolution in neurosurgery. But I think that we all know what really brings in all the funding. Mind control.”
Logan almost had to hold back a chuckle. It sounded more like the premise to a horror video game or movie, a cheap one at that.
Experimenting with mind control slugs? Logan was waiting for Ryan to tell the punch line at this point.
“We’ve studied their natural behavior and made significant progress. We’ve selectively bred them to trigger their ‘control’ behavior independent from their breeding cycle, and to extend that control duration. We’ve conducted limited human testing and confirmed compatibility and functionality as well.”
“Human testing?”
“Yes, of course. Given the premise of this project, it would be unavoidable, don't you think?”
Logan was able to avoid laughing out loud, but he couldn’t help a little grin. He was surprised by the matter-of-fact tone that Ryan was able to keep up. So she had tested these mind control slugs on people huh?
“Well, who’d you test this on?”
“For obvious reasons, I can’t discuss any of their identities, but they were all fully consenting individuals that were compensated for their involvement. Also, I should mention that I wasn’t working on this project during the period that these tests were conducted, so I had no direct involvement. I’ve only joined recently.”
Logan was a little confused by her response. That little fact at the end there didn’t seem to be a part of the joke, it seemed a little too realistic. The idea bothered Logan. Maybe she wasn’t joking. Maybe this was real. What kind of place was Ryan working at? Logan shifted to a more serious tone.
“Hold on. This whole slug thing. The human testing. Doesn’t that… I don’t know, concern you or something? Like, the stuff that you’re working on… this whole project seems…”
“Unethical? Inhuman? Evil? I certainly thought so too when I was first assigned, but the project’s current state is far from what it was in the past.”
Ryan picked up a spray bottle next to the tank, opened its lid, and spritzed some clear fluid around the enclosure before closing it again.
“Everything I told you about was done years ago. The project hit a wall. The slugs just couldn’t execute complex commands, only the most basic trained actions in response to verbal triggers. A far cry from mind control. Continued investments of time and resources yielded nothing, resulting in researchers and funding getting pulled. When I was assigned to this project, it was already dead and buried for a long time.”
Logan could see tints of frustration in Ryan. He had seen her get frustrated at hitches in experiments before, but this seemed like a deeper kind of frustration. She probably felt trapped with a project like this.
“Currently, most of my day-to-day is being a slug keeper. Moisturize the habitat at least twice a day, feed the slugs and replace the food before it rots, replace the soil every few weeks. I’m almost envious of Sisyphus, at least he got a boulder.”
“Sorry to hear that you’ve had it so rough. Maybe it would be a good idea to ask for a different project, or just leave all this behind and look for a different lab?”
“Oh believe me I’ve tried, but there are certain… factors… that prevent me from transfering projects. Leaving for another lab isn’t a good option either. No lab in this country can compare to SynthraForma’s. The resources and secrecy here are exactly what I need.”
Hmm… it seemed like Ryan was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Any choice would be a compromise, and a pretty lousy one at that. Watching Ryan’s expressions, Logan could tell she wasn’t happy about things, but she seemed to perk up as she continued speaking.
“It’s not all doom and gloom though, I have a plan. Imagine this. I succeed with this project out of nowhere. Why, news of such a miracle will go straight to the highest executives. They’ll hear that little ol’ me, a single researcher with no support, managed to break through an impenetrable wall that defeated the best of the best. I’ll get the recognition I deserve and free reign to work on what I want.”
Logan could see a flame burning within Ryan, a determination that pushed her forward.
Instead of admitting defeat, she was fighting harder than ever before. Logan was worried that Ryan was feeling down, maybe searching for solace or even pity, but those worries were cleared by her display of brash, unashamed confidence. He almost wanted to start applauding her.
“I’m glad that you’ve got a goal to aim for, but how’re you gonna do it?”
Ryan cracked a mischievous smile, giving Logan a look that sent a little shiver down his back. He knew that look. Oh, he knew that look. Trouble was coming.
Method
Well Logan, my good friend, that’s where you come in! I have an idea, a theory, a breakthrough! The main problem is the slugs’ lack of cognitive ability. Well it just so happens that one of my colleagues is working on a neuron growth promoter, top secret of course. Normally I wouldn’t have access, but let’s just say that I helped with his homework and he’s helping with mine.”
Ryan nodded towards a small glass vial nearby the slug tank. That must be the neuron growth stuff.
“Unfortunately, that alone would only produce slugs that are better at being slugs. Not exactly what we need. It would require far too much training to reach the levels needed for true mind control. That’s where another little gadget comes in.”
Ryan gestured towards something else near the tank. It looked like a bundle of multi-colored wires, each wire connected to a small device that had a suction cup.
“This is a prototype electroencephalogram, or EEG. It detects electrical activity within your brain, amplifies it, and sends it to the target. I’m sure you’re catching onto my idea now. We’ll be sending your brainwaves into a slug injected with the neural growth promoter. This external stimulation combined with the neuron growth will potentially create neural pathways within the slug that mirror yours.”
Logan took a moment to let things sink in. Ryan had conducted plenty of wild experiments in high school, Logan being intimately involved in most of them. All of them were attempts at something never done before, but at least they were somewhat based in reality. This experiment seemed to jump over that line and land fully into the territory of fantasy and madness. Combining all this experimental tech in an attempt to create mind controlling slugs? This had to be desperation more than anything else.
“Why’s it gotta be my brain waves? You’re the most intelligent person I know, so wouldn’t your brain waves be better?”
“Thanks, but if I could do this alone, I would have. The slugs wouldn’t just mirror the intelligence of the donor, but also their traits. I wouldn’t describe myself as particularly obedient, so it would be a big problem if the slugs mirrored me. You, on the other hand, have always been very… generous and helpful. I couldn’t think of a better person to ask.”
Logan wasn’t quite happy about being called generous and helpful in this context. He could tell that she really meant obedient, willing to make a fool of himself for her sake. In high school, Ryan always took advantage of Logan’s affection for her, and he gratefully allowed it. Anything to get the girl right? Well, it didn’t end up that way. He assisted Ryan in many of her experiments, sometimes to his detriment.
There were lots of reasons and rationalizations.
Teenage hormones, desperately avoiding loneliness, a dose of simple adolescent stupidity, all things that Logan told himself he completely left behind in the past. Reflecting on it over the years after graduation, he vowed to never allow himself to be taken advantage of like that again. Yet here he was, having his resolve put to the test.
Ryan could tell that Logan was deliberating. There was a possibility that he’d make the wrong choice. She leaned a little closer to him, looking up with a gentle expression.
“Please? I’m in a real tough spot here, and I could really use some help. Please Logan?”
Logan kept his expression stern as he gazed upon Ryan’s fragile beauty, looking into her pleading eyes. It wasn’t the first time that she’d used this trick. In high school, this was her ace-in-the-hole to convince Logan against his better judgment. And it worked every time. Logan let out a little sigh as he relaxed a little. It couldn’t hurt to get some more info right?
“What are the risks?”
Ryan broke into a smile, happy to hear that her faithful assistant was still her’s.
“None, absolutely none. You just put on the EEG’s electrodes and they’ll record everything that we need. No risks at all.”
Logan kept his expression even as he made his choice. He looked at Ryan again, searching for any indication of a lie or half-truth. She looked genuine, a real friend in need. Well, there really was no choice. To refuse at this point would be cruel. Logan hoped this wouldn’t end poorly.
“Okay, I’ll do it.”
“Thank you. This means the world to me. I’ll make it up to you later, but let’s begin the experiment as soon as possible.”
Ryan pulled up a chair for Logan, indicating to take a seat. She then grabbed a petri dish, went over to the slug tank with a pair of tongs, and carefully lifted a wiggly green critter onto the dish. She set it near Logan, and he glanced over. It almost felt like the slug was looking back at him with its little antennae.
It took a while, but eventually every single one of the numerous electrodes were attached to Logan’s head. Each electrode connected to a wire, all of which met in a braid that connected to a small device. The small metal box was connected to Ryan’s lab computer, and also had another side where a smaller braid of wires exited. Those tiny wires went over to the slug, where they connected to miniature electrodes that were placed all over the slug’s body.
“Alright, checks done, double checks done. I think we’re ready to go. Hanging in there
Logan?”
Logan had tried his best to keep still while the electrodes were put on him, as if he was getting a haircut. He also made an effort to avoid staring at Ryan as she worked. He didn’t want to creep her out or make things awkward, but for him, she was the only thing worth looking at in this lab. The way that her white lab coat contoured over her perfect figure, the way she moved around him, the view of her chest when she put the electrodes on his head…
“Yeah, I’m fine. Ready to go.”
“Okay, perfect. Then let’s begin the experiment.”
Ryan went back to the tank and took the vial of neuron growth promoter along with a syringe. Logan watched as she carefully measured out a dosage. After loading the syringe, Ryan carefully injected its contents into the slug. She then returned to her computer.
“Let’s hope for the best.”
With that, she activated the EEG. The device began to record Logan’s brain waves, sending them into the slug. Logan didn’t feel anything different on his end. The slug seemed fine too. Ryan turned a tablet screen towards Logan and started to play a video. It showed a slideshow of various things, ranging from apples to horses to people to mountains and much more. The video was supposed to help Logan’s brain stay active and somewhat direct the learning for the slug.
“Okay, everything looks good. It’ll be a few hours, but I’ll be here with you. If anything happens, let me know immediately. Again, I just want to say thanks for your help, I really appreciate it.”
“Yeah, of course. Anything for you.”
Experiment
The first ten minutes were fine. Just look at the pictures and videos on the tablet, easy right?
The next ten minutes were the toughest. Logan had to stay disciplined, forcing himself to sit still and keep watching. Every image that appeared on the tablet blended and blurred with the last. Logan even found it difficult to keep his eyes focussed.
Another ten minutes later, Logan managed to fall into a sustainable rhythm of sorts, and wasn’t struggling as much. He started playing a little mental game with the images, trying to improvise a story with each object that popped up on the tablet screen.
The man in a black suit… went to the windmill?
And in the windmill he… found a flock of sheep. Okay, so he was actually a manager for the mill, and the sheep were workers on a break. As a reward for hard work, the manager gave each of them a… butterknife? Woah, okay, so the manager was actually inciting the sheep to revolt against their oppressors. The oppressors that were forcing the sheep to work were… mongooses… mongeese?
The story unfurled itself, on and on, sometimes needing the occasional reset. Logan did his best to keep his neurons activated for this experiment. He kept going and going and going, persevering and relentless. To his credit, he managed to keep his focus most of the time, but as the process dragged on, his focus wavered more and more. The ideas were less creative, the mental image grew blurry, and the plot moved slower. Logan tried to pull himself back into the groove, but his descent was inevitable at this point. His mind grew dimmer and dimmer, a dark fog growing thicker and more impenetrable until the last candle flame of thought flickered out, and nothing remained.
…
…
…
Ryan checked up on Logan, looking over at him slightly slumped in his chair. His head was slightly tilted to the side and his eyes were closed. Must’ve dozed off. She had already noticed that Logan was struggling to stay awake for some time. Unfortunately, any stimulant like coffee could affect the experiment, so Ryan would have to wake him up everytime he nodded off.
Ryan got up and walked over to Logan, shaking him by the shoulder.
“Logan? Logan wake up.”
No response. She shook him harder. Nothing. She lightly tapped him on the cheek. Still nothing. She carefully opened his eyelid. Logan’s eye blankly stared back at her. Ryan felt a wave of dread flood through her. Logan? Logan!
…
…
…
Ryan had done everything that she could. Logan was unconscious when she found him. She had immediately called for help, and he was rushed to the hospital by paramedics. She was in shock. What happened? What caused this? Was it the experiment? Impossible. But the timing… Healthy young men like him don’t just… stop, not like this.
Ryan knew that she was screwed. Even if it somehow wasn’t her fault, there was no way that SynthraForma would overlook all the attention she was bringing in.
Ryan sat in her little corner of the lab, feeling hollowed out like an empty shell. Her eyes drifted to Logan’s empty chair. He was just there, not long ago, healthy and energetic.
The prototype EEG laid on the floor nearby, still in the same place that it landed after
Ryan had yanked it off of Logan’s head when trying to wake him. Ryan knew that the prototype EEG and neuron growth promoter would cast a lot of suspicion on the situation, but hiding or destroying evidence would practically be an admission of guilt. Ryan knew that there was a good chance that the experiment had nothing to do with Logan’s sudden decline, and that it was just a coincidence. But there was no way for her to know. She’d have to wait to hear from the hospital, or the police.
While Ryan was sitting, sorting through her thoughts, her supervisor Doctor Li showed up.
“I’m sure you’re shaken by all of this. Go home. I’ll give you a call if we need anything from you. Don’t even think about coming to work until you’ve fully recovered from this shocking incident, okay?”
Ryan didn’t want to respond, she didn’t even make eye contact. She just continued sitting with her head hung as Doctor Li promptly left. When Ryan heard the sound of the lab door closing, she raised her head. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the tank of slugs. A sudden rush of heat filled her body as she felt a fierce hatred towards them. Stupid fucking slugs! She wanted to get a hammer and smash the tank, crushing the pathetic little bastards.
But she restrained herself. She just glared at them, cursing their very existence. Freaks of nature. She got up from her seat, deciding that the privacy of her apartment would indeed be better than sulking in the lab. She reached over and grabbed her white lab coat. She had taken it off earlier while trying to help Logan.
Ryan stuck her left arm through its sleeve before draping it over her back and filling out the other sleeve. As she left the lab, Ryan was completely unaware of the little green hitchhiker in her lab coat’s pocket.
Recalibration
Dark…
Familiar… smell… Rough… all over…
Where…?
…
Hungry…
Move…
Need to move…
That way…
…
In the darkest hours of the night, a little green slug crawled out of a lab coat pocket thrown on top of a laundry basket. Confused and disoriented, it did the only thing that it could, follow its instincts.
Delicate slivers of moonlight leaked through the thin blinds of the bedroom. The room wasn’t particularly messy or clean, just lived-in. There were two beds opposite to each other in this small space. The plucky little slug crawled along the floor, inch by inch, towards the bed on the right.
Progress was slow, but steady. A few inches every minute. The slug finally reached the foot of the bed and began its journey upwards. It climbed against gravity, leaving a shiny trail of slime behind on the wood. After a few minutes, the unyielding green spelunker reached the top of the bed, where a sleeping beauty lay enveloped in a peaceful slumber. Her chest periodically rose and fell as silent breaths came and went.
The slug continued, crawling onto the sheets of the bed, eventually making its way onto the pillow. The slug’s small, pulsating body made the insidious last legs of its journey as it aimed for a small opening.
The slug touched the sleeping woman’s skin, feeling her warmth as it began to climb the side of her neck. She didn’t even stir. The slug climbed closer, closer, until it reached… the entrance. The slug dipped itself into her ear, pushing its head in and quickly filling the small tunnel’s width. The slug squeezed its malleable body into the small space, crawling deeper and deeper and deeper…
The woman stirred a little. A small readjustment of the body in response to mild discomfort. A light groan escaped her lips, as if she was just having a bad dream. There was no way to know that something was entering her… invading her… burrowing deep deep inside. She would undoubtedly panic if she was awake, if she knew what was happening to her, but it was just the slug’s luck that she was deep asleep, that she was defenseless.
Deep inside her head, the slug finally felt… satisfaction. It had reached its destination. Now, it could rest, just for a little. The woman’s body settled back down, returning to its restful state. Her breathing returned to a slow, rhythmic rise and fall of her chest. The only thing amiss was a small trail of dried slug fluid.
Hasti adjusted the rearview mirror of her parked car, glancing at her reflection. Dark waves framed her face, her lips glossed and eyes lined with kohl—effortless, striking. But she wasn’t admiring herself tonight; she was strategizing. The glowing neon sign of The Blue Note Lounge flickered across the street, pulsing with the bass of loud music and laughter. Inside, the kind of girls who never got overlooked were already laughing too loudly at boys who wouldn’t give Hasti a second look if she walked in as herself.
But she wasn’t planning to walk in as herself.
She exhaled, squared her shoulders, and closed her eyes. A tingling sensation rippled down her spine, the familiar pull of separation as her spirit lifted free from her body. She glanced back—her physical form slumped slightly against the seat, limp as a doll. Vulnerable. But she couldn’t think about that now.
Hasti’s spirit drifted through the car door and across the street, passing effortlessly through the crowded bar. Bodies pulsed to the rhythm of the music, conversations blurring into white noise. Then she spotted her target: a tall blonde with sharp cheekbones and legs that seemed to stretch for miles. She was leaning against the bar, tossing her hair over her shoulder while some frat-boy type grinned at her like she’d hung the moon. Perfect.
Hasti floated closer. The girl—Alyssa, according to the bartender’s greeting—was sipping a cocktail, oblivious to the spirit hovering inches from her. With a deep breath (or the ghost of one), Hasti reached out, pressing ethereal fingers to Alyssa’s forehead. A sharp tug, and—
The blonde’s body stiffened for a second before slumping forward, her spirit peeling free like mist from water. Hasti guided the empty shell of Alyssa’s consciousness to hover near the ceiling, where it drifted lazily in dreamless suspension. Then, without hesitation, she stepped into the body.
Warmth. Weight. The sudden rush of sensation—tight fabric hugging curves, the chill of air conditioning on bare arms, the thrum of bass vibrating through high heels. Hasti flexed Alyssa’s fingers, rolled the unfamiliar shoulders, and grinned.
The frat boy blinked. “You good?”
Hasti tossed Alyssa’s hair—her hair now—and smirked. “Better than good.”
His smile widened. Finally, someone who looked at her like that.
All part of the plan.
Hasti—now in Alyssa’s tall, blonde, effortlessly desired body—flashed another dazzling smile at the guy in front of her. God, this is easy.
"Another drink?" he asked, already flagging down the bartender. His name was Jake, according to the stupidly expensive watch on his wrist and the way he kept mentioning his dad’s law firm.
She let out a practiced laugh, leaning in just enough to let him catch a whiff of Alyssa’s vanilla perfume. "Only if you’re having one with me."
Jake beamed, like she’d just handed him the keys to the city. "Hell yeah."
As they clinked glasses, Hasti couldn’t help but marvel at how different this was from her usual nights out. Back in Chicago, she’d been the queen of the scene—hips swaying, eyes locking, men tripping over themselves to get her attention. But here in Nashville? In her body? She might as well have been invisible. Their loss, she thought, taking a sip of the too-sweet cocktail.
The rest of the night played out like something out of a movie—Jake’s hands occasionally grazing her waist, his friends hyping him up like he’d just won the lottery, the bartender sliding them free shots when the crowd got rowdy. Hasti let herself enjoy it all—the way heads turned when she walked by, the way Jake’s voice got lower and slower the more he drank, the warmth of being wanted without having to try so damn hard.
By closing time, Jake was whispering against her ear, lips brushing her neck as he murmured, "You should come back to my place."
Hasti grinned. Oh, I could. She could take Alyssa’s body back to his apartment, let him peel that tight dress off her, do all the things she knew he’d never consider doing with her real self.
But then she glanced at the clock above the bar. Two hours—her limit before Alyssa’s drifting spirit might start getting restless. And as much as she loved the game, she wasn’t reckless enough to test her own limits.
She feigned disappointment, running freshly French-tipped nails along his bicep. "Rain check, Jake. Early morning."
He pouted, but she kissed his cheek before he could protest—lingering just enough to leave him wanting more—and sauntered toward the ladies' room. Locked in a stall, she closed Alyssa’s eyes, exhaled, and—
Pop. as she left Alyssa's body and saw her body slump over. She floated back to the middle of the bar and grabbed Alyssa's spirit from the ceiling, dragging it back to the bathroom and gently guiding her spirit back into it's body. Then she flew back to her car.
Back in her own body, still tucked safely in her car. She stretched, shaking off the lingering thrill, and glanced in the mirror. Dark eyes stared back at her, familiar and fierce.
Damn, that was fun.
Hasti checked her phone—no missed calls, no emergencies. Nobody had even noticed her empty shell just sitting there. A perfect night, no complications.
As she started the engine, she smirked. "Same time next week?" she said to herself as she went home to get sleep and prepare for the work day ahead.
-
The next morning, Hasti leaned back in her office chair, twirling a pen between her fingers as she stared at her computer screen. The glow of spreadsheets and project deadlines made her eyes ache, but at least her cubicle in the marketing department gave her some privacy. Corporate life. She sighed. If her coworkers knew half the things she did on weekends, they’d probably faint.
A knock on the cubicle wall made her jump.
"You zoning out again?"
Maggie, her work bestie—curly red hair, freckles, and a perpetual coffee cup in hand—peeked in with a smirk. "I’ve been calling your name for, like, a full minute."
Hasti blinked, then laughed. "Sorry, just strategizing."
"Oh, for work?" Maggie wiggled her eyebrows. "Or for your mysterious Friday night plans?"
Maggie was the only one at the office who knew Hasti had something wild going on—just not the specifics. She thought it was secret Tinder dates.
Hasti smirked. "Wouldn’t you like to know?"
Maggie groaned. "Ugh, you’re the worst." She plopped down in the spare chair, kicking her feet up. "Fine, keep your secrets. But you are coming to drinks with me and Layla tonight, right? No ‘emergencies,’ no disappearing acts?"
Hasti hesitated. "Depends. Where are we going?"
"The Foxglove—that new rooftop bar downtown. Super bougie."
Her pulse quickened. Bars meant potential new "hosts" for her little astral vacations. But she promised herself that she would only project once or twice a week, and only if it was a Friday or Saturday night. She still needed to spend time with her friends however, or they'd start thinking she didn't like them. After considerate, she relented. "Yeah, I’m in."
Maggie squealed. "Finally! Maybe you'll actually stay for once."
-
The Foxglove was everything Maggie had promised—glamorous, crowded, and pulsing with energy. Twinkling lights strung across the rooftop terrace cast a golden glow over the sleek marble bar, while the Nashville skyline glittered beyond the glass railing. The air smelled like expensive perfume and citrus-infused cocktails.
Hasti adjusted the strap of her little black dress as she followed Maggie and Layla to a high-top table near the edge. Layla—Maggie’s bubbly roommate—immediately flagged down a server and ordered a round of martinis without even glancing at the menu.
"So, how’s life in the marketing trenches?" Layla asked, leaning in conspiratorially. "Anyone’s soul crushed yet this week?"
Maggie groaned. "Don’t even get me started. Johnson emailed me again about the ‘brand synergy’ report like it’s not literally the most meaningless document in existence."
Hasti laughed, letting the familiar rhythm of their banter wash over her. For once, she wasn’t scanning the room for potential hosts, wasn’t plotting where she’d stash her body while her spirit slipped free. Tonight was just drinks. Just friends.
"And you," Layla pointed at Hasti, a playful accusation in her eyes. "Spill. Why do we never see you anymore? Are you secretly married? In witness protection?"
Hasti rolled her eyes, swirling her martini. "Please. Like I could keep a husband quiet."
Maggie snorted into her drink. "True. You’d be texting us every five minutes complaining about his socks on the floor."
The conversation flowed, effortlessly pulling Hasti in. They gossiped about coworkers, debated which downtown restaurant had the best tacos (Layla insisted it was the food truck by the park; Maggie swore by the overpriced fusion place), and laughed until Hasti’s cheeks hurt. For a dizzying hour, she almost forgot about astral projection altogether.
Until she saw her.
Across the rooftop, perched on a velvet lounge chair like she owned the place, was a girl with porcelain skin, cascading honey-blonde waves, and a laugh that carried like wind chimes. The kind of girl who made heads turn without trying—exactly the sort Hasti would have loved to borrow for an evening.
A familiar itch prickled under her skin.
No. Not tonight.
She forced her gaze back to Maggie, who was mid-story about her disastrous attempt at online dating. "—and then he actually said, ‘I don’t usually go for redheads, but—’"
"Ugh, men," Layla groaned, throwing a napkin at her. "Why are they like this?"
Hasti half-listened, her fingers tapping restlessly against her glass. The blonde girl was sipping champagne now, surrounded by a group of adoring guys hanging onto her every word. One of them leaned in, whispering something that made her giggle, and Hasti could practically feel the effortless power she carried.
It would be so easy. Just a quick trip to the bathroom, a momentary disconnect, and—
"Earth to Hasti." Maggie snapped her fingers. "You okay?"
Hasti blinked. "Yeah. Yeah, totally." She plastered on a smile. "Just got distracted by… the view."
Layla followed her gaze to the blonde and smirked. "Ohhh, I see. Someone’s got a girl crush."
Hasti laughed, forcing herself to relax into her seat. "Hardly. Just appreciating aesthetics."
But the temptation hummed in the back of her mind like a song stuck on repeat.
Not tonight, she reminded herself firmly. Tonight is for real life.
She picked up her drink and clinked it against Maggie’s. "To not letting Johnson ruin our will to live."
Maggie grinned. "Amen to that."
Hasti exhaled, pushing aside the lingering urge. Tonight, she’d stay present. At least that's what she told herself for about 2 minutes.
Hasti's gaze drifted past the rooftop lights, landing on him. Tall, tousled dark hair, a crooked smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes as he joked with his friends. He had the kind of confidence that wasn't loud—just effortless, like he didn't need to prove a damn thing. And the way his dress shirt clung to his shoulders? Damn.
"Oh. Ohhh no," Maggie drawled, snapping her fingers in front of Hasti’s face. "I know that look. You’re into him."
Layla twisted in her seat, scanning the crowd. "Which one? Wait—black shirt, stupidly good jawline?”
Hasti groaned into her drink. “It doesn’t matter. Guys like that don’t—”
“Don’t what?” Maggie challenged. “Don’t date gorgeous, hilarious women with the most iconic cheekbones in Nashville?”
Hasti swirled her martini, her voice lowering. “Don’t date brown girls. Not here.” The words tasted bitter, but it was the truth. She’d seen it a hundred times—guys like him lighting up for blondes, for petite girls with freckles and doe eyes, while she faded into the background no matter how tight her dress was.
Layla slammed her glass down. “Bullshit. Go talk to him.”
“What’s the point?”
“The point,” Maggie said, leaning in, “is that you never let them win. Walk over there like you own the air he’s breathing. And if he’s stupid enough to not see it? His loss.”
Hasti chewed her lip. The temptation to slip into someone else’s body—someone palatable to guys like him—flared again. But tonight wasn’t about shortcuts.
“Fine,” she muttered, tossing back the rest of her drink for courage. “But if this goes south, I’m blaming you for peer pressure.”
Layla grinned. “Deal.”
Hasti willed her pulse to settle as she approached his table. “Hey,” she said, aiming for casual but landing somewhere between confident and please-don’t-make-this-awkward. “I’m Hasti.”
The guy—Ethan, his friend supplied—turned, his smile polite but distracted. “Hey.”
She kept her chin up, her body language loose like this didn’t matter. “You in town for work, or…?”
“Yeah, finance,” he said, glancing past her toward the bar. Then, after a beat, he added, “Look, you seem cool, but—”
She already knew.
“But I’m not your type,” she finished, her voice steady.
His cheeks flushed. “It’s not—I mean, you’re gorgeous, just not—”
“Yeah. Got it.” She forced a smile. “Thanks for being honest.”
She walked away before he could stammer out another empty compliment.
“Asshole,” Layla declared the second Hasti slumped back into her seat.
Hasti shrugged, reaching for Maggie’s untouched shot of tequila. “At least he didn’t lead me on.”
Maggie snatched the shot back, sliding a fresh one toward her instead. “His loss. And now?” She pushed the salt and lime toward Hasti. “We drink to trash men and better prospects.”
“To better prospects,” Layla echoed, clinking her glass to Hasti’s.
The tequila burned, but the warmth in her chest wasn’t just from the alcohol. It was from Maggie’s arm slung around her shoulders, from Layla’s dramatic retelling of her worst rejection (“He said I looked ‘too exotic’—what does that even mean?!”), from the certainty that tonight, at least, she wasn’t alone.
Hasti licked the salt from her lips, grinning. “Next round’s on me. And if Ethan over there looks this way?”
“He’ll wish he was your type,” Maggie finished.
Hasti laughed, tossing her hair. Damn right.
The night blurred into laughter and too many tequila shots, the sting of rejection dulled by the warmth of good liquor and even better friends. Hasti leaned against the rooftop railing, the neon glow of downtown smudging in her vision. Maggie was mid-sentence—something scandalous about her boss’s secret affair—when Hasti’s gaze snagged on the exit across the terrace.
There they were.
Ethan—Mr. Not My Type—was slipping his arm around that honey-blonde girl’s waist, whispering something in her ear that made her toss her hair and giggle. The girl pressed into him like she’d known him for years instead of hours, her manicured fingers curling possessively around his bicep.
Hasti’s grip tightened around her empty glass.
"Ohhh no," Layla murmured, following her stare. "Don’t even look at them."
Hasti didn’t reply. The tequila was a hot, liquid defiance in her veins, and suddenly, she was done. "I’m tired of this," she muttered.
"Tired of what?" Maggie hooked an arm through hers, trying to steer her away.
"This!" Hasti gestured wildly toward the happy couple disappearing into the elevator. "I could’ve been fun. I could’ve been amazing. But he didn’t even try to see it—none of them ever do!"
Layla squeezed her shoulder. "Then he’s an idiot."
Hasti scoffed. "No, he’s typical." The words spilled out, sharp with liquor and frustration. "And I’m sick of pretending it’s fine. Sick of being overlooked. Sick of watching guys like him fall all over girls like that when I’m right here."
Her friends exchanged a glance. "Okay," Maggie said carefully, "let’s get you home before you incinerate someone with your eyes."
Hasti let them tug her toward the exit, but her mind was already racing. Ethan and Blondie were probably headed to some bougie afterparty, some dim-lit bedroom where he’d worship her in ways Hasti wouldn’t even get the chance to experience.
Not in her own skin, anyway.
The thought hit like lightning.
"Bathroom," Hasti announced abruptly, pulling free. "One sec."
She didn’t wait for their protests. The second she was locked in a stall, she braced her hands on the sink, staring at her reflection—flushed cheeks, smudged eyeliner, the fire in her own dark eyes.
She could go home. She could let this night be another anecdote for Maggie and Layla to laugh about later.
Or.
A slow, wicked smile tugged at her lips.
She closed her eyes.
And let her spirit slip free.....
The hallway outside the bathroom was empty. Hasti’s spectral form darted past oblivious bartenders and stumbling drunk girls until she found them—Ethan and Blondie, waiting for the elevator, his hands already under her jacket.
Hasti hovered behind them, revenge sweet on her tongue.
With a deep breath, she reached out. Her fingers—ghostly, but firm—gripped the blonde’s shoulder.
A sharp tug.
The girl slumped forward, her consciousness lifting away like smoke. Ethan frowned, steadying her limp body. "Babe? You okay?"
Hasti didn’t hesitate. She stepped in.
Blonde hair. Pink lips. Long legs. Skin that Nashville adored without question.
When she opened her eyes, Ethan’s face melted into relief. "There you are."
Hasti—no, Aubrey, according to the ID in her clutch—smiled. "Here I am."
And when his lips met hers, she kissed him back, savoring the irony.
Ethan’s mouth was warm, insistent—the kind of kiss that probably made most girls melt. But Hasti (currently piloting Aubrey’s stolen body) felt nothing but burning satisfaction.
Here he is, so eager for a girl who’s basically a mannequin right now.
She let the kiss deepen for exactly three seconds—long enough to really sell it—then abruptly pulled back.
“Wait, what—” Ethan started, eyes dazed.
Hasti smirked. “Oops. Forgot something.”
And then she kneed him square in the crotch.
Ethan doubled over with a strangled “Guh—!”, his face turning a spectacular shade of purple as he crumpled against the elevator doors.
“Asshole,” Hasti hissed in Aubrey’s voice, smoothing down the girl’s short skirt. “Hope that stings all night.”
She left him wheezing on the floor and marched straight to the ladies’ room. Behind the locked stall door, she exhaled and let Aubrey’s consciousness slip back into place, guiding it gently like tucking a sleeping child into bed.
The blonde girl blinked, swaying slightly as she glanced around the bathroom, confused but unharmed. “What the… did I black out?” she muttered, touching her lips like she’d missed something.
Hasti’s spirit zipped back to her own body—still slumped in the bathroom stall—and gasped, her eyes snapping open. Her reflection stared back at her, grinning like a cat who got the cream. The tequila haze hit her full-force, but the giddy thrill of payback was stronger. She checked her reflection, wiped the smudged eyeliner, and strutted out to meet her friends.
"Oh my God, Hasti!" Maggie practically tackled her the second she stepped out of the bathroom. "You missed the best part!"
Layla was wheezing, clutching her stomach. "That blonde girl—the one you were just talking about? She knee’d that guy in the dick."
Maggie mimed an explosion with her hands. "Like, full-on ends of the earth devastation. He looked like he was gonna puke."
Hasti pressed a hand to her chest, feigning shock. "Really? But they seemed so perfect for each other."
Layla dabbed at her smudged eyeliner, still laughing. "Turns out Aubrey"—she said the name like it was a punchline—has standards. King Dickhead got exactly what he deserved."**
Hasti looped her arms through theirs as they stumbled toward the exit, the night air cool on her flushed skin. "Karma’s a beautiful thing," she sighed, grinning.
"Preach," Maggie said, raising an imaginary toast.
And as they spilled onto the sidewalk, laughing under the city lights, Hasti decided something: maybe she didn’t need to borrow anyone’s body to feel powerful.
But damn, it sure was fun.
And as they piled into an Uber, giddy and triumphant, she didn’t even glance back at the club—or the blonde girl now glaring at a still-wincing Ethan.
Some victories were sweeter in silence.
Chapter 1: Backstory
The sun hung high over the quiet suburban neighborhood of Willow Creek, casting a golden haze over manicured lawns and white picket fences that seemed frozen in time. It was the kind of place where everyone knew everyone's business, but no one ever admitted it-secrets simmered beneath the surface like the humid Texas air in mid-July. John Thompson, an 18-year-old fresh out of high school, wiped the sweat from his brow as he pushed the old lawnmower across Jessica's expansive front yard. The machine's rumble drowned out the distant chirp of cicadas, and the scent of freshly cut grass mixed with the faint floral perfume wafting from the nearby rose bushes Jessica so meticulously tended.
John had been helping out both families for years now-his own and the neighboring one headed by Jessica and her daughter Summer. It started as odd jobs to earn pocket money: mowing lawns, fixing fences, even helping with groceries when Heather, his step-mom, was swamped with her part-time job at the local boutique. Heather had married John's dad when John was just a kid, but after his dad passed away five years ago from a sudden heart attack, it had been just the three of them: Heather, John, and Amy-Heather's biological daughter from her first marriage. Amy was 20 now, home from college for the summer, and she treated John like the annoying little brother he sometimes felt he was.
But Summer, oh, Summer was different. She'd been Amy's best friend since middle school, the kind of girl who turned heads without even trying. John had nursed a crush on her for as long as he could remember-those stolen glances during family barbecues, the way her laughter echoed like music when she and Amy gossiped in the backyard. She was 20 now too, taller than most girls at 5'10", with a lithe, athletic build from years of volleyball, sun-kissed blonde hair that cascaded in waves down her back, and a bust that filled out her tops in a way that made John's heart race. Her mom, Jessica, was the stuff of local legend-the town's ultimate MILF at 46, with platinum blonde locks, a curvy figure boasting a generous D-cup bust, and legs that seemed to go on forever. She owned a small yoga studio downtown, which kept her toned and flexible, and her flirtatious smile had broken more than a few hearts.
John paused the mower to chug from his water bottle, his t-shirt clinging to his lean, teenage frame. He wasn't unattractive-tallish at 5'11", with messy brown hair and a boyish charm-but he felt invisible next to the likes of Summer. "Just finish this up," he muttered to himself, wiping his face with the hem of his shirt. That's when he heard the car pull into the driveway.
The sleek SUV doors opened, and out stepped Summer, looking every bit the college bombshell in cutoff denim shorts that hugged her firm ass and a crop top that revealed a sliver of toned midriff. Her bigger bust-easily an E-cup-strained against the fabric, bouncing slightly as she slung her duffel bag over her shoulder. "John? Is that you?" she called out, her voice bright and melodic, waving enthusiastically.
John's heart skipped a beat. He killed the mower's engine, suddenly hyper-aware of how sweaty and disheveled he looked-grass clippings stuck to his sneakers, beads of perspiration dripping down his neck. "Uh, hey, Summer! Welcome home!" He tried to play it cool, but his voice cracked just a little.
She dropped her bag and bounded over, enveloping him in a tight hug before he could protest. Her body pressed against his-soft, warm, and smelling faintly of vanilla and sunscreen. He could feel the swell of her breasts against his chest, the curve of her hips brushing his, and for a split second, his mind blanked. "It's so good to see you! You've gotten taller or something," she laughed, pulling back but keeping her hands on his arms. Her blue eyes sparkled with genuine warmth.
John's face flushed crimson. "Y-yeah, maybe. Sorry, I'm all sweaty and gross. Wasn't expecting, you know." He gestured vaguely at himself, inwardly cursing his awkwardness. God, she looks incredible, he thought. Even better than I remembered. Those lips, that smile, what I wouldn't give to just...
Summer giggled, tilting her head. "Aw, don't worry about it. You're doing us a huge favor with the lawn. Mom's been raving about how helpful you've been." She glanced back at the house, where Jessica was unloading more bags, her own figure poured into yoga pants and a tank top that accentuated her ample cleavage. Jessica caught John's eye and waved with a wink, her blonde hair catching the light like a halo.
John opened his mouth to reply, but words failed him. Summer's proximity was overwhelming-her scent, her touch, the way her top rode up just enough to show a hint of underboob. He stood there, dumbstruck, his brain short-circuiting as he imagined what it would be like to hold her, to kiss her, to explore every inch of her perfect body. "I, uh, yeah, no problem," he finally stammered, stepping back awkwardly.
Summer smiled sympathetically, picking up her bag. "Well, catch you later? Amy and I are planning a pool day soon- you should join!" With that, she sauntered off, her hips swaying in a way that made John's knees weak.
He watched her go, his mind reeling. How does she do that? Just exist and make everything else fade away? Shaking his head, he restarted the mower, but his thoughts lingered on her-the crush that had only grown stronger over the years.
Later that afternoon, after finishing up and heading home, John bumped into Amy in the kitchen. She was perched on the counter, scrolling through her phone, her brunette hair tied back in a ponytail. Amy took after Heather-modest but attractive, with a fit body from her college track team, perky C-cup breasts, and a girl-next-door vibe. At 20, she was confident and teasing, especially with her little step-brother.
"Hey, loser," she said without looking up, popping a grape into her mouth. "Heard you were over at Jessica's. See Summer yet?"
John grabbed a soda from the fridge, trying to act nonchalant. "Yeah, she just got home. Hugged me and everything." He couldn't help the grin that crept onto his face.
Amy finally glanced at him, smirking. "Ooh, a hug? Careful, John, you might actually talk to a girl for once." She hopped down, nudging him playfully. "Seriously, though, when are you gonna get a girlfriend? You're 18 now-high school's over. You can't just mope around playing video games all summer."
John rolled his eyes, but her words stung a bit. "I'm not moping. Just, busy helping out. And who says I need a girlfriend right now?"
Amy laughed, ruffling his hair. "Come on, make some friends at least. Hit up the beach, the mall-anything. Summer's single, you know. But you'd have to actually, like, speak in full sentences around her."
If only it were that easy, John thought, his mind flashing back to the hug. She's way out of my league. But god, what I wouldn't do to be closer to her... "Yeah, yeah. I'll think about it."
The conversation fizzled as Amy headed upstairs, leaving John to ponder her advice. Dinner that evening was a typical affair-Heather had whipped up a simple pasta dish, her brunette hair pulled back, her modest blouse and jeans hugging her still-fit 45-year-old figure. Heather was classically attractive: soft curves, a B-cup bust that she carried with quiet confidence, and warm brown eyes that always seemed to know more than she let on. She was the glue holding the family together, working her boutique job while keeping the house running smoothly.
They ate at the kitchen table, chatting about mundane things-Amy's college stories, John's lawn-mowing adventures, Heather's latest customer drama. "John, sweetie, thanks for helping Jessica out today," Heather said, smiling across the table. "You're turning into quite the responsible young man."
John shrugged, blushing slightly. "No big deal, Mom." The meal wrapped up normally, with everyone retreating to their own spaces: Amy to her room for a video call with friends, Heather to the living room with a book, and John upstairs to his bedroom.
He locked the door behind him, flopping onto his bed with a sigh. The room was a typical teenage haven-posters of video games and bands on the walls, a cluttered desk with his laptop, and a faint scent of Axe body spray. But tonight, his mind was fixated on Summer. That hug, her body against mine. Fuck, she's perfect. He felt a familiar stir in his pants, his cock twitching at the memory.
Unable to resist, he grabbed his laptop, dimming the lights as he settled against the pillows. A quick incognito search brought up porn sites, and he typed in descriptors that reminded him of her: "tall blonde big tits college girl." Videos popped up-women who vaguely resembled Summer, but none captured her essence. He clicked on one: a busty blonde riding a guy reverse cowgirl, her moans filling his headphones.
John's hand slipped into his boxers, wrapping around his hardening shaft. He stroked slowly at first, imagining it was Summer on top of him, her breasts bouncing, her tight pussy gripping him. God, I wish I could get closer to her, he thought, his pace quickening. Not just know her, but be intimate. Feel her from the outside, sure, but, inside too? Like, understand her completely. The fantasy spiraled-taboo thoughts of body swaps, gender bends from the weird porn he'd stumbled upon before, where guys became girls and explored forbidden desires.
His breath hitched as the orgasm built, more intense than usual. "Fuck, I wish I could be closer to Summer, inside and out," he whispered aloud, his voice hoarse. The video played on, the actress crying out in ecstasy. John's body tensed, cum erupting in hot spurts over his hand and stomach. Waves of pleasure crashed over him, stronger than ever, his vision blurring as a strange dizziness took hold. The world spun, and suddenly-blackness. He collapsed back, unconscious, the laptop still humming softly in the dim room.
Chapter 2: Freaky Morning
The first rays of dawn filtered through the sheer curtains of Heather's bedroom, casting a soft, ethereal glow over the king-sized bed with its crisp white sheets and plush comforter. The room was a sanctuary of feminine elegance-walls painted a calming lavender, a vanity table cluttered with perfumes and jewelry, and a full-length mirror propped against the far wall, reflecting the orderly chaos of a woman's life well-lived. Heather's closet stood slightly ajar, revealing rows of neatly hung blouses, dresses, and jeans, while the faint scent of lavender sachets mingled with the subtle musk of her favorite body lotion. It was a space John had only glimpsed in passing, never truly entered, let alone woken up in.
But this morning, that's exactly where he found himself-or rather, where she found herself. John's consciousness stirred groggily, his mind foggy from what felt like the deepest sleep of his life. His body felt, off. Lighter somehow, yet weighted in unfamiliar places. He blinked against the light, rubbing his eyes with hands that seemed smaller, more delicate. What a weird dream, he thought hazily, the remnants of last night's intense orgasm flickering in his memory like a half-remembered fantasy. That blackout, must've passed out hard. A pressing urge built in his lower abdomen-the need to pee-and without much thought, he swung his legs over the side of the bed.
The nightgown whispered against his skin as he stood, a silky fabric that clung in ways his boxers never did. It was Heather's favorite-a simple lavender slip that reached mid-thigh, with thin straps and a lace-trimmed neckline that dipped just enough to hint at cleavage. John didn't register the difference yet; his brain was still booting up. He padded across the plush carpet, the cool hardwood of the en suite bathroom floor sending a shiver up his spine as he entered. The bathroom was pristine: marble counters, a deep soaking tub, and a rainfall showerhead that Heather loved for its spa-like feel. He lifted the toilet seat out of habit-wait, no, that felt wrong. Instinct took over, and he hiked up the nightgown, sat down on the cool porcelain, and let go.
The stream came easily, a soft trickle that felt strangely relieving but, different. No standing, no aiming-just sitting and releasing. He reached for the toilet paper without thinking, wiping front to back in a motion that came as naturally as breathing. Flush. Stand. Wash hands. It was all autopilot, muscle memory kicking in from a body that wasn't his. Huh, that was, easy, he mused internally, still half-asleep. Usually takes forever to wake up properly.
He shuffled to the vanity sink, the mirror fogged slightly from the humidity of the night. Grabbing Heather's toothbrush-pink-handled, with soft bristles-he squeezed on a dollop of minty toothpaste and began brushing. The rhythm was familiar, but as he raised his arm, it brushed against something soft and yielding. A jolt of sensation shot through him-nipples hardening under the fabric, a subtle weight shifting on his chest. What the...? He paused, toothbrush in mouth, and glanced down. Breasts. Actual breasts, modestly sized but pert, straining slightly against the nightgown. The toothbrush clattered into the sink as awareness crashed over him like a wave.
John's eyes widened in the mirror, staring back at a face that wasn't his. Heather's face: high cheekbones, full lips painted a natural pink from last night's gloss, warm brown eyes framed by long lashes, and a cascade of brunette hair tumbling over shoulders. "Oh my God," he whispered, but the voice that emerged was soft, feminine-Heather's voice, with its gentle Texas lilt. He gasped externally, a sharp intake of breath that echoed in the tiled room. Internally, his mind screamed: What the fuck is happening? This can't be real. Am I still dreaming? Did I die? Panic bubbled up, his new heart pounding in a chest that felt both alien and intimately responsive.
He leaned closer to the mirror, hands-slender, with manicured nails-gripping the counter. Calm down, John. Breathe. Figure this out. How had this happened? Last night, the porn, the wish whispered aloud as he came. I wish I could get closer to Summer, inside and out. Was this some cosmic joke? A body swap? Like those weird stories he'd read online, the gender bender fantasies that always got him off harder than he cared to admit. But this was real-the cool air from the AC vent brushing against his skin, making goosebumps rise, and lower, a chill teasing at exposed folds he shouldn't have. Holy shit, I have a vagina.
Curiosity edged out the panic as he calmed. If this is a dream, might as well explore. He started with the face, poking and prodding gently. Heather's skin was smooth, softer than his ever was-no stubble, just the faint peach fuzz of a woman's complexion. He stuck out his tongue-pink and agile-wagging it experimentally. Then, an UwU face: cheeks puffed, eyes wide and innocent, lips pursed in a cute pout. It looked ridiculous on Heather's mature features, but oddly endearing. A sad face next-eyebrows furrowed, lower lip trembling-as if practicing for a role in a drama. She looks, kinda hot like this, he admitted to himself, a forbidden thought creeping in.
Now, the voice. "Hello?" he tested, the word coming out smooth and melodic. He cleared his throat-her throat-and tried seductive: "Come here, big boy," drawled low and husky, with a sultry emphasis that made his new nipples tingle. Angry and authoritative: "Young man, you're grounded!" barked out, stern and commanding, the kind of tone Heather used when scolding him. Curse words for fun: "Fuck, shit, damn," he whispered, giggling at how prim and proper it sounded in her voice, then louder, "Oh, fuck me," with a moan that surprised him with its authenticity. This is insane. I sound just like her. But better? Sexier?
Satisfied for now, he ventured back into the bedroom, the nightgown swishing around his thighs. The full-body mirror beckoned, a ornate antique piece Heather had inherited from her mother. John stood before it, heart racing anew. He slipped the straps off his shoulders, letting the nightgown pool at his feet. Naked now, he stared. Heather's body-his body-was stunning in a way he'd never appreciated. At 45, she was fit from yoga classes with Jessica, her skin glowing with a natural tan. Modest B-cup breasts hung with a natural heft, nipples a dusky pink and erect from the cool air. He cupped them experimentally, feeling the weight-soft yet firm, like ripe fruit. These are, heavy. But nice. Sensitive too. A gentle squeeze sent a spark straight to his core, a warmth building between his legs.
His hands roamed lower: smooth, hairless skin everywhere except a neatly trimmed patch above his new slit. No coarse body hair, just silkiness. Legs long and dainty, toned calves leading to petite feet. He turned, admiring the curve of his ass-round and perky, not as voluptuous as Jessica's but inviting. Fingernails painted a soft nude, longer than he was used to, scratching lightly over his skin. She's gorgeous. Why didn't I notice before? Taboo, I guess. But now... The thought aroused him-her. A slickness grew between his thighs, a moist heat that made him clench involuntarily. I'm getting wet. Fuck, that's hot. But not now-gotta figure this out.
Shaking it off, he headed to the closet, an instinctive pull guiding him. Muscle memory? Heather's knowledge seeped in-he knew exactly where her lingerie drawer was, tucked in the back. He pulled out a comfortable bra: beige lace, supportive underwire. Slipping it on was effortless-arms through straps, clasp in front with a twist, adjust the cups. Whoa, that was easy. Like I've done it a thousand times. It felt amazing: the lift pushing his breasts up, creating subtle cleavage, the fabric hugging like a second skin. Panties next-a thong, black and silky, something he wouldn't have pegged for Heather's modest style. Does she wear these? Kinky, Mom. He stepped in, pulling it up; the string nestled between his ass cheeks, a constant teasing pressure, while the front panel cupped his mound, the fabric brushing his slit in a way that made him gasp. Feels, exposing. But good. Like it's right there, ready.
Clothes: tight skinny jeans that hugged his hips and ass like a glove, zipping up with a satisfying snugness. A button-up blouse in soft blue, rolling the sleeves for a casual look that accentuated his figure. This outfits screams 'hot mom.' Matches perfectly.
Drawn to the makeup vanity next-a wooden table with a lighted mirror, drawers full of palettes and brushes. He sat, brushing out the long brunette locks-silky and thick, falling to mid-back. Tying it into a loose ponytail was second nature, strands framing his face. Feels lighter now. Smells like her shampoo-floral and fresh.
The makeup array was overwhelming: foundations, blushes, eyeshadows in every shade, lipsticks from nude to bold red. So much stuff. Eyeliners, mascaras, how does she choose? But again, instinct guided him. He applied a light foundation, blending seamlessly; a touch of blush for a rosy glow; eyeliner winged just so, making his eyes pop; mascara for length; and a lipstick a shade pinker than Heather's usual, with a gloss that made his lips look fuller, kissable. Cuter, slightly seductive-eyebrows arched playfully, a hint of shimmer on the lids. Not her everyday look. More, flirty. Like I'm dolling up for something special.
Stepping back, he admired the full effect in the mirror: a vision of mature allure, jeans accentuating curves, blouse hinting at cleavage, makeup enhancing natural beauty. If this is permanent, what now? Excitement mingled with fear, but a thrill coursed through him. Summer. This could be my chance to get close. Really close. With that, he headed downstairs, ready to face whatever bizarre day awaited in his step-mom's body.
Chapter 3: "Heather"'s Day
The aroma of sizzling bacon and fresh coffee wafted through the Thompson household, a cozy two-story home nestled in the heart of Willow Creek. The kitchen was Heather's domain-granite countertops gleaming under pendant lights, a farmhouse sink piled with mixing bowls, and a window overlooking the backyard where John had spent countless summers playing catch with his late dad. But this morning, it was John-or rather, "Heather"-commanding the space with an ease that surprised even him. Dressed in those tight skinny jeans that hugged his new curves like a second skin and the button-up blouse that teased just a hint of cleavage, he moved with a fluid grace, flipping pancakes and scrambling eggs as if he'd done it a thousand times. Which, in a way, he had-Heather's muscle memory was a godsend, guiding his hands through the motions without a second thought.
What the hell is going on? John pondered internally, stirring the eggs with a wooden spoon. Am I stuck like this forever? Is this some kind of freaky punishment for jerking off to Summer? Or, fulfillment of that wish? The confusion gnawed at him, but a strange exhilaration bubbled underneath. No more awkward stares from afar; he could be close now, in ways he never imagined. But first, gotta play the part. Don't freak out the family. He set the table with Heather's favorite floral plates, humming a tune he didn't even know he knew-a soft melody from one of her yoga playlists.
As the first one up, John had the house to himself for a blissful half-hour, but soon enough, footsteps thudded down the stairs. His heart-or Heather's-skipped a beat as he wondered about his old body. What if Mom's in there? Trapped, screaming? Or, what if it's empty? The question was answered when "John" shuffled into the kitchen, yawning in his rumpled pajamas, hair tousled just like always. "Morning, Mom," the body said in John's own voice, wrapping arms around "Heather" in a casual hug. The embrace felt surreal-hugging himself, essentially-but there was no hint of anything amiss. "John" pulled back, sniffing the air. "Smells awesome. You making pancakes? Sweet."
"Yeah, sweetie, your favorite," John replied in Heather's warm tone, forcing a smile while his mind raced. He's acting just like me. Saying shit I'd say, moving like I do. Is it, on autopilot? Some kind of echo? Relief washed over him; at least no one was suffering in his place. Amy joined moments later, her ponytail bouncing as she plopped into a chair, phone in hand. "Morning, everyone! Ooh, bacon-thanks, Mom."
Breakfast unfolded in a haze of normalcy that bordered on the absurd. They chatted about the weather-hot and humid, as always in Texas-the latest neighborhood gossip, and Amy's excitement about her summer classes. John, as Heather, navigated it flawlessly: laughing at "John's" dumb joke about a video game boss, passing the syrup with a maternal nod, even scolding Amy gently for scrolling too much at the table. Internally, though, it was a mindfuck. This is me, eating with my family, but I'm Mom. Watching myself chew with my mouth open. Hearing Amy call me 'Mom.' It's like a VR sim gone wrong. A flicker of arousal stirred as he caught sight of Amy's tank top riding up, revealing a sliver of her toned stomach-taboo thoughts he quickly shoved down. Focus, dude. You're her mom now.
As the meal wrapped up, plans emerged. "John" mentioned heading out to mow more lawns-my old job, John thought wryly-while Amy talked about meeting friends downtown. "Hey, Mom," Amy said, stacking plates, "you should hit the mall today. Get that new bathing suit we talked about. Remember, tomorrow's the double date at the beach spa with Jessica and Summer! It's gonna be so fun-sun, sand, massages..."
John's new body reacted instantly: a flush of heat between his legs, nipples tightening under the bra. Double date? With Jessica and Summer? Holy shit. Images flooded his mind-Summer in a bikini, water glistening on her curves, her laughter echoing over waves. This is it. The wish. Getting closer to her, even if it's as Mom. Bizarre, but, hot? He nodded enthusiastically, Heather's voice steady. "That sounds perfect, honey. I could use a little retail therapy."
Amy grinned. "Awesome! Pick something cute. Maybe something a bit, sexier? You're still got it, Mom." She winked, and "John" chuckled, oblivious.
Once they left-the door clicking shut behind them-John was alone, the house silent except for the hum of the fridge. Okay, game on. He grabbed Heather's purse from the hook by the door-a stylish leather satchel stuffed with wallet, keys, and lip gloss-and slung it over his shoulder. Stepping out, he felt a literal spring in his step: lighter on his feet, hips swaying naturally, the thong riding up just enough to remind him of his new anatomy. Feels, empowering? Like I'm strutting.
Heather's car-a reliable SUV-waited in the driveway. Sliding into the driver's seat, he adjusted the mirror, buckling up. The seatbelt nestled between his breasts, the strap pressing against the soft mounds, creating a valley of cleavage. Whoa, that's, distracting. Unable to resist, he glanced around-no nosy neighbors watching-and cupped his boobs through the blouse, squeezing gently. The sensation zinged straight to his core, a moist warmth building. These feel amazing. So sensitive. He admired his reflection: ponytail bouncing, makeup flawless, lips plump. Looking good, 'Heather.' A little crazy? Maybe. But fuck it. Starting the engine, he pulled out, heading to the mall with a mix of nerves and excitement.
The Willow Creek Mall was bustling mid-morning: families milling about, teens in clusters, the air scented with pretzels and perfume. As "Heather," John drew glances-not suspicious, but appreciative. Men stealing looks at his ass in the jeans, women nodding at his outfit. They're checking me out. Because I'm hot. Female hot. It was a power trip, boosting his confidence as he navigated to a trendy store aimed at the 18-25 crowd-think fast fashion with edgy vibes, blasting pop music and lined with racks of crop tops and mini skirts.
Browsing the swimsuit section, he blended in at first, but soon noticed the giggles from a group of college-aged girls nearby. They're laughing at me? The 'old lady' in their store? But he ignored it, fingers trailing over fabrics until he spotted a two-piece white bikini: skimpy top with padding for extra lift, high-cut bottoms that would hug and expose his ass cheeks. This is cute. Revealing, but, why not? Summer might notice. Heart pounding, he grabbed a size that felt right-Heather's instincts again-and headed to the changing rooms.
The attendant, an 18-year-old with neon hair and a judgmental smirk, eyed him up. "Uh, can I help you? These are for, like, our demographic..."
John channeled Heather's charisma-poise he'd never had as himself. He flashed a warm smile, tilting his head flirtatiously. "Oh, honey, age is just a number. But if you insist, maybe you can help me decide if this makes me look too, youthful?" He added a wink and a light laugh, funny yet charming, disarming her completely.
The girl blinked, then grinned. "Okay, fair. Room three's open. Knock yourself out."
Inside the cramped stall, mirror-lined walls reflecting every angle, John stripped slowly. Off came the blouse, jeans pooling at his feet, bra unclasped-breasts freed, nipples perking in the cool air. The thong slipped down, revealing his smooth mound, already glistening slightly from anticipation. Time to see. He stepped into the bikini bottoms, the fabric snug against his slit, riding up to accentuate his ass. The top tied on, padding pushing his B-cups into fuller, perkier cleavage. Damn, I look, fuckable.
Letting his hair down-waves cascading-he posed: hands on hips, seductive smirk, touching himself all over. Fingers traced his collarbone, down to squeeze his enhanced boobs, thumbs circling nipples until they ached. So soft, so responsive. He turned, admiring his ass-cheeks peeking out, firm and inviting. Then, cutesy mode: innocent pout, batting lashes, imagining compliments from Jessica and Summer. "Oh, Heather, you look amazing!" he'd coo in a high pitch, giggling.
But thoughts turned to Summer: her taller frame in a bikini, bigger bust spilling out, water droplets tracing her curves. God, she'd look incredible. Wet, shiny... Arousal hit hard-his pussy throbbing, slickness soaking the bottoms. Can't ignore this anymore. He slipped a hand down, rubbing his clit through the fabric-electric sparks shooting through him. Fuck, that's intense. Boldly, he pushed the bottoms aside, fingers dipping into his wet folds, one then two sliding in. The fullness, the warmth-moans escaped, soft at first, then louder: "Oh, yes..." He pumped gently, thumb on clit, imagining Summer's body against his. The attendant might have heard-the stall walls thin-but he didn't care, stopping just short of climax. Later. Save it.
Composed again, he dressed and checked out. The cashier-a young guy-rang him up, but John scratched an itch near his crotch crudely, like a guy adjusting his balls. Oops. The cashier flushed, thinking, Hot mom, but, that was weird. Kinda unladylike.
Back home, cooking dinner was effortless: Heather's recipes ingrained, whipping up lasagna with garlic bread. When Amy and "John" returned, he roleplayed perfectly-asking about their days, laughing at stories, no suspicions raised. This is trippy. Engaging with myself.
After dinner, alone time with Amy in her room: posters of bands, clothes strewn about. She changed for bed into a provocative outfit-tiny shorts and a crop top, no bra, nipples visible through thin fabric. John stared voyeuristically, heat building. She's hot. Like Mom, but younger. Amy chatted about the spa: private massages, saunas, hot tubs. "And who knows, Mom? We might spot some hot guys. You could use a fling!" She teased, winking.
John laughed, but internally: Guys? Nah. But Summer... Excited, he headed to bed, following Heather's routine: face wash, lotion, nightgown. In the nightstand, a small vibrator-pink, discreet. Mom's got toys? Kinky.
Lying back, he buzzed it to life, pressing against his clit. Oh fuck. Imagining the spa: Jessica in a thong, bust overflowing; Summer nude, legs spread; even Amy, playful and bare. They touched, kissed-taboo fantasies blending. Orgasms crashed over him, waves of pleasure making his body arch, moans muffled into the pillow. Exhausted, he drifted to sleep, dreaming of tomorrow's possibilities.
Chapter 4: Before the Outing
The alarm on Heather's nightstand buzzed softly at 7 AM, pulling John from a deep, dreamless sleep. He stretched languidly under the sheets, his body-Heather's body-responding with a supple arch that made his breasts shift and his hips roll in a way that felt both foreign and intoxicating. The vibrator from last night lay innocently on the pillow beside him, a silent reminder of the explosive orgasm that had rocked him to his core. Holy shit, that was real, he thought, a grin spreading across Heather's full lips as he sat up. I'm still here. Still her. And today, today I get to see Summer up close. In a spa. With bikinis and massages and, God, what if things get steamy? Excitement coursed through him, mingling with a low hum of arousal that made his new pussy tingle faintly.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed, the cool morning air teasing his skin through the thin nightgown. Padding to the en suite bathroom, he caught his reflection in the mirror-hair tousled from sleep, makeup smudged just enough to look sultry rather than sloppy. I look like a woman who's had a wild night. Fitting. Stripping off the nightgown, he stepped into the shower, turning the water to a steamy hot spray that cascaded over his curves like a lover's touch. The sensation was overwhelming: water beading on his breasts, trickling down his flat stomach, pooling between his thighs. He lathered up with Heather's body wash-a luxurious blend of vanilla and jasmine that made his skin slick and silky.
This feels incredible, he marveled internally, hands roaming as he washed. Fingers grazed his nipples, hardening them into peaks that sent jolts straight to his core. Lower, he soaped his pussy gently, the suds mixing with a fresh slickness as thoughts of Summer invaded his mind. Her body wet like this, blonde hair plastered to her big tits, laughing as she splashes Amy, Fuck, I can't wait. But the real star was the shampoo: a fruity, botanical concoction of mango and hibiscus that filled the steam with an exotic, heady aroma. He massaged it into his scalp, the long strands heavy and fragrant under his fingers. Smells like paradise. Like her-Summer always has that tropical vibe. Rinsing off, he lingered under the spray, one hand slipping between his legs to rub his clit in slow circles. A soft moan escaped-Heather's voice, husky with desire. Just a tease. Save the big one for later, maybe with her. He stopped before climax, toweling off with a fluffy robe that hugged his figure, still buzzing with anticipation.
Downstairs in the kitchen, the family routine kicked in. John, as Heather, whipped up a quick breakfast-avocado toast with eggs, fresh fruit on the side-while "John" and Amy trickled in. "Morning, everyone," he said brightly, plating the food. Time to probe. What's my old body been up to? He turned to "John," who was shoveling toast into his mouth just like he always did. "So, sweetie, what have you been up to these last couple days? Any fun plans while we're gone?"
"John" shrugged, mid-bite. "Eh, mostly gaming. Finally beat that level in Elden Ring- you know, the one with the fire giant? Took forever, but I cheesed it with the bleed build."
John's excitement spiked-That's my game! I was stuck on that boss for weeks!-and he leaned in, Heather's eyes lighting up. "Oh, really? The fire giant? Isn't that the one where you have to dodge those massive AOE attacks? And the bleed build-smart, using rivers of blood katana, right? Pairs great with the mimic tear summon."
"John" blinked, surprised but nodding. "Yeah, exactly! Wait, Mom, since when do you know about Elden Ring builds?"
Amy, overhearing from her seat, paused with her coffee mug halfway to her lips. "Whoa, Mom, you're a gamer now? That's, kinda cool, but random."
Panic flickered in John's mind-Shit, too much. Slipped into my own geek mode. But Heather's poise bubbled up, that effortless charisma saving the day. He laughed lightly, waving a hand dismissively. "Oh, honey, I've picked up a thing or two listening to you ramble about it. Plus, I read an article the other day-something about how video games improve reflexes. Keeps me young!" He added a wink, steering the conversation smoothly to Amy's classes, and the moment passed without suspicion. Close call. But damn, it's weird hearing about my own life from the outside.
After breakfast, with "John" heading out for more chores and Amy lingering to help clean up, John retreated upstairs to pack. The closet called to him again, and rummaging through Heather's wardrobe, his eyes landed on a sexy sun dress he'd somehow overlooked before: a vibrant red number with a deep V-neck that plunged daringly between the breasts, thin straps, and a flowy skirt that hit mid-thigh, perfect for showing off legs and a hint of cleavage. This is fire. Shows off everything-boobs, ass, the works. He slipped it on, the fabric whispering against his skin, hugging his curves before flaring out. Twirling in the mirror, he admired how it accentuated his bust, the material thin enough that his nipples poked through if he got chilled. Summer's gonna love this. Wait, no- she's straight, right? But maybe...
Packing was quick: the new white bikini folded neatly into an overnight bag, along with other fun outfits-a sheer cover-up that would tease skin, lacy lingerie just in case things heated up, and casual shorts with a crop top for lounging. Prepared for anything. Massages, saunas, who knows what could happen in private? A thrill shot through him, his pussy clenching at the possibilities.
As they got ready to leave, Amy appeared in the doorway, eyeing the dress with raised eyebrows. "Damn, Mom! That dress is hot. You're gonna turn heads at the spa. Jessica might get jealous-she's usually the MILF queen."
John flushed-Heather's cheeks warming-but played it cool with a playful spin. "Thanks, sweetie. Figured why not? Life's too short for boring clothes." Amy laughed, complimenting his makeup too-the subtle smokey eyes he'd added for extra allure. They headed out together, leaving "John" with a wave and instructions to behave, the SUV purring down the driveway toward the beach spa an hour away.
---
Meanwhile, across the neighborhood at the Summers' residence-a modern ranch-style home with a sprawling backyard pool and Jessica's yoga mats scattered on the deck-preparations were in full swing. Jessica, at 46, moved with the grace of a woman who knew her power, her platinum blonde hair tied in a high ponytail as she packed her bag in the sunlit kitchen. She wore yoga leggings and a sports bra for the drive, her generous D-cup bust straining against the fabric, curves honed from years of downward dogs and warrior poses. Summer, her 20-year-old daughter, was upstairs in her room, a feminine haven of pastel walls, volleyball trophies, and posters of indie bands.
"Summer, honey, you almost ready?" Jessica called up the stairs, zipping her bag with swimsuits, lotions, and a bottle of wine for the evening. "Heather and Amy should be meeting us soon-don't forget your sunscreen!"
"Coming, Mom!" Summer replied, her voice light but laced with a secret excitement. She stood before her mirror, adjusting a casual tank top and shorts over her bikini, her taller frame making everything look model-esque. Blonde waves framed her face, and her E-cup breasts filled out the top perfectly, a natural bounce with each movement. God, I'm buzzing, she thought, inner monologue racing as she packed. A whole day at the spa with Amy, and Heather. Heather. A flush crept up her neck at the thought. Summer had always been the popular girl-cheerful, athletic, surrounded by friends-but deep down, she harbored a secret: a growing attraction to women that she'd never voiced. College had opened her eyes-stolen glances in the dorm showers, butterflies around pretty professors-but back home, it simmered unspoken.
Heather's always been so, elegant. Fit, brunette, that quiet sexiness. And lately, I've caught myself staring. Is it a crush? She bit her lip, imagining Heather in a swimsuit, their bodies close during a massage. Women are just, softer. Curvier. More intoxicating. Amy's hot too, but Heather-mature, experienced. What if I could, explore? The thought made her nipples harden, a warmth pooling between her legs. She shook it off, grabbing her bag. "Okay, Mom, let's go!"
Downstairs, Jessica hugged her daughter, their dialogue easy and affectionate. "You excited? It's been ages since we did a girls' trip like this."
"Totally," Summer said, grinning. "Pool time, massages-perfection. And hanging with Amy and Heather will be fun."
Jessica raised an eyebrow teasingly. "Heather, huh? You've always had a soft spot for her. She's like a second mom."
Summer laughed it off, but internally: If only you knew. "Yeah, something like that."
They loaded the car, chatting about spa details-private saunas, ocean views-and headed out, the drive filled with laughter and playlists.
---
Back to John as Heather: they arrived at the beach spa first, a luxurious resort overlooking the Gulf, with palm trees swaying and the scent of salt air mingling with essential oils. Stepping out, John smoothed the sun dress, the skirt fluttering in the breeze to reveal toned thighs. Here we go. Jessica's SUV pulled up moments later, and as she emerged-looking every bit the cougar in a wrap dress that hugged her bust-John greeted her with la bise, the European cheek kisses they always did. "Jessica, darling, you look fabulous," he purred in Heather's voice, their cheeks brushing, scents mingling.
"You too, Heather- that dress! Sexy as hell," Jessica replied with a laugh.
But then Summer stepped out, and John froze. She was stunning: a floral sundress similar to his but shorter, accentuating her long legs, bigger bust spilling slightly at the neckline, blonde hair glowing in the sun. Fuck, she's a goddess. Taller, thinner, those tits, I could stare forever. His body reacted-pussy dampening, heart racing.
Summer, meanwhile, was equally awestruck. Heather looks, different. Hotter. That makeup, the dress-cleavage for days. Is she flirting with the world today? Her cheeks pinked as they locked eyes. "Hey, Heather," she said softly, moving in for a hug.
The embrace was electric: bodies pressing close, John's breasts mashing against Summer's larger ones, soft and yielding through thin fabrics. He inhaled her scent-vanilla and sunscreen-feeling the warmth of her skin, the subtle curve of her hips. Oh God, this feels amazing. Her boobs against mine, so full, so perfect. A forbidden thrill shot through him, his nipples hardening.
Summer pulled back reluctantly, blushing deeper. That hug, her body feels so good. Soft, warm. I want more. Jessica and Amy were already chatting animatedly about the itinerary, laughing as they grabbed bags. "Come on, ladies-let's check in!" Jessica goaded, leading the way.
John followed, mind spinning with possibilities, the group entering the spa's grand lobby, ready for whatever intimacies the day held.
Chapter 5: Getting Close to Summer
The Azure Waves Beach Spa Resort sprawled along the Gulf Coast like a hidden paradise, its white stucco buildings accented with turquoise trim, palm-fringed pools shimmering under the relentless Texas sun, and the distant crash of waves providing a rhythmic soundtrack to indulgence. The lobby was a haven of luxury: marble floors cooled by ocean breezes, plush seating areas dotted with tropical plants, and the faint scent of eucalyptus from the spa diffusers. As the group checked in, the receptionist-a perky young woman with a name tag reading "Mia"-handed over key cards with a smile. "Welcome, ladies! Your suites are in the Ocean Wing. Pool's open all day, and your massages are booked for 3 PM. Enjoy!"
John, still inhabiting Heather's body, clutched his key card tightly, his manicured fingers trembling slightly with a mix of nerves and exhilaration. The hug with Summer lingered in his mind-the press of her larger breasts against his, the warmth of her breath on his neck, that telltale blush coloring her cheeks as they pulled apart. She blushed. Hard. Was that because of me? Or, Heather? Does she feel something too? He wondered internally, a spark of hope igniting in his chest. This body swap thing is nuts, but if it means getting close to her like this, I'll take it. The group dispersed to their individual suites with plans to reconvene at the main pool in an hour, Amy and Jessica chattering excitedly about cocktails and sunbathing.
John's suite was a slice of opulence: a spacious room with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the beach, a king bed draped in crisp linens, and a private balcony where the sea air whispered promises of relaxation. A mini-bar stocked with chilled wines and fruits sat invitingly by the desk, and the bathroom boasted a rainfall shower and plush robes. Alone at last, he set his bag down and faced the full-length mirror, Heather's reflection staring back-sun dress hugging curves, ponytail slightly tousled from the drive. Time to change. Make it fun. A mischievous grin spread across his lips as he decided to indulge in the moment, turning the simple act of changing into a private spectacle.
He started slow, swaying his hips to an imaginary beat, fingers tracing the thin straps of the dress. Strip tease for one. Why not? This body's made for it. He slipped one strap down, then the other, letting the fabric pool at his waist, exposing Heather's lacy bra that cradled his modest B-cup breasts. Cupping them, he squeezed gently, thumbs circling nipples until they peaked, a soft gasp escaping-Heather's voice, breathy and feminine. Feels so good. Sensitive as hell. The dress fell to the floor in a whisper, leaving him in just the thong panties, the string nestled teasingly between his ass cheeks. He turned, admiring the view: smooth skin, toned legs, the curve of his hips flaring out invitingly. Hooking thumbs into the thong, he bent forward dramatically, sliding it down slowly, ass presented to the mirror as his pussy came into view-already glistening with arousal. Look at that. Wet just from thinking about her. He stepped out of the panties, fully nude now, and struck poses: one hand on hip, the other trailing down his stomach to brush his clit, eliciting a shiver.
Grabbing the white two-piece bikini from his bag, he made the donning equally erotic. First the bottoms: stepping in exaggeratedly, pulling them up so the fabric hugged his mound, the high-cut sides framing his ass like a work of art. He adjusted the front, fingers dipping briefly into his folds for a teasing rub. Mmm, tight fit. Shows off everything. The top came next-tying it behind his back with a flourish, the padding lifting his breasts into fuller, perkier cleavage that spilled slightly at the edges. He bounced on his toes, watching them jiggle. Damn, I look hot. Summer's gonna notice. Hair down in waves, a quick touch-up of lip gloss, and he wrapped a towel around his waist like a sarong, heading out with a sway in his step that felt utterly natural.
The pool area was a tropical oasis: infinity edges blending with the ocean horizon, cabanas with billowing white curtains, and lounge chairs lined up under umbrellas. Waitstaff in crisp uniforms circulated with trays of fruity cocktails. John spotted Jessica first, and his jaw nearly dropped. She lounged by the chairs like a predator in wait-a super sexy MILF cougar ready to pounce. Her one-piece swimsuit was a masterpiece of temptation: black with strategic cutouts along the sides and midriff, plunging neckline showcasing her generous D-cup bust, the fabric clinging to her curves like a second skin. It looked straight off a supermodel runway, accentuating her toned legs and the subtle sway of her hips. Blonde hair cascaded freely, sunglasses perched on her nose, a knowing smile on her lips.
Holy fuck, Jessica, John thought, a droplet of drool nearly escaping as he approached. She's always been hot, but this? Lethal. "Jessica, wow-you look incredible," he said in Heather's warm voice, eyes lingering a beat too long on her cleavage.
She laughed, standing to hug him-bodies pressing close, her bust against his making his nipples harden instantly. "Coming from you? Please, Heather, that bikini is fire. White on your tan? Chef's kiss." She pulled back, handing him a vibrant cocktail-something pink and garnished with pineapple. "Mai Tai. Figured we'd start strong." Then, with a flirtatious grin, she offered her hand. "Shall we? Chairs are this way."
John took it, their fingers intertwining, skin warm and soft. Internally, he freaked: Hand-holding with Jessica? While she looks like that? How do I even talk without staring at her tits? But as they walked, the panic ebbed, replaced by awe as his gaze shifted to the pool. There, frolicking in the water, was Summer-splashing Amy with gleeful abandon, her laughter ringing out like music. She wore a skimpy red bikini that left little to the imagination: top straining against her E-cup breasts, bottoms tied at the sides with bows that begged to be undone. Water glistened on her taller, thinner frame, droplets tracing paths down her toned abs and long legs. Amy, in a sporty blue two-piece that hugged her perky C-cups and athletic build, laughed back, but John's eyes were glued to Summer. Oh my God. She's perfection. Bouncing in the water like that, I could watch forever.
They settled into adjacent lounge chairs, cocktails in hand, the sun warming their skin. John sipped his drink-sweet and potent, rum hitting just right-while freaking out internally about small talk. What do I say? Weather? No, too lame. But Heather's essence surged forward: that natural charisma, the ease of conversation she'd always had. "So, Jess, tell me-how's the yoga studio been? Any new hot instructors catching your eye?" he asked with a teasing lilt, leaning back to mirror her relaxed pose.
Jessica chuckled, sipping her drink. "Oh, you know me-always scouting talent. There's this one guy, mid-20s, abs for days. But honestly, I've been too busy. What about you? Dating scene treating you well since, you know." Her voice softened, referencing Heather's widowhood without dwelling.
The chat flowed effortlessly: gossip about neighborhood drama (Mrs. Wilkins' latest affair scandal), shared laughs over parenting woes (Amy's college antics mirroring Summer's), and deeper tidbits-Jessica confessing her secret love for trashy romance novels, John sharing Heather's fondness for gardening mixed with his own taste in indie films. This is wild. I'm learning stuff about her I'd never know as John. All the while, his eyes darted to Summer in the pool: her lithe body diving under, emerging with hair slicked back, breasts heaving with each breath. So close. I can hear her laugh, see every curve. This is heaven.
Summer, mid-splash with Amy, glanced over occasionally, catching "Heather" watching. She's staring. At me? Curiosity bloomed in her chest, a warm flutter between her legs. Heather's always been gorgeous, but today, that bikini, those eyes on me. Does she feel it too?
Hours melted away in glorious voyeurism-John reveling in Summer's every move, the way water beaded on her skin, her playful shrieks as Amy dunked her. But Amy eventually broke the spell, swimming to the edge. "Hey, ladies! Massage time-let's go! Don't want to be late."
Summer climbed out, water cascading off her body as she approached the chairs. Up close, John drank her in: the red bikini clinging wetly, nipples faintly visible through the fabric, her taller frame towering slightly, ass cheeks peeking from the bottoms. Fuck, she's dripping. Warm and fuzzy? I'm on fire. Summer's eyes roamed Heather's body too-the white bikini enhancing cleavage, the way it hugged her slit subtly. Heather looks, edible. That lift in her boobs, her legs, God, I'm getting wet just looking.
The group toweled off and headed to the massage suite, a serene wing with dim lighting, soft instrumental music, and the scent of lavender oil. Private rooms branched off a central changing area with lockers and robes. John decided to go with the flow-Never had a massage before. Might as well enjoy. In the changing room, privacy screens offered partial cover, but glimpses were inevitable. He stripped slowly: bikini top untied, breasts freed with a bounce; bottoms slid down, exposing his smooth pussy. Sneaking peeks, he caught Jessica's nude form-voluptuous curves, shaved mound, ass like a peach. Amy's athletic body-perky tits, trimmed bush. But Summer, Jesus. Tall and lithe, her E-cups heavy and natural, pink nipples erect from the cool air, pussy with a neat landing strip. She bent to pick up her robe, ass presented, folds peeking invitingly.
Summer stole a glance back, eyes widening at Heather's body: modest but toned, breasts pert, pussy bare and glistening slightly. She's beautiful. Smooth everywhere, I want to touch. Both flushed, slipping into thin massage gowns-paper-thin fabric that hid little.
In the massage room-four tables side by side, therapists waiting with oils-John lay face-down, the gown parting to expose his back. As hands kneaded his muscles, tension melted, and conversation sparked with Summer on the next table. "This feels amazing," he sighed in Heather's voice. "First time for a pro massage?"
Summer turned her head, smiling. "Yeah, me too. Kinda nervous, but, relaxing. How's your summer been, Heather? Amy says you've been busy."
Small talk evolved: college life (Summer's volleyball team drama), favorites (John mixing his indie rock playlists with Heather's classic jazz, movies like his sci-fi faves blended with her rom-coms). "I love those mind-bendy films," he shared. "Like, ones that twist reality."
Depth crept in: dreams, fears. Then, intimacy. "Speaking of twists," Summer ventured shyly, "have you ever, experimented? With, um, relationships?"
John's heart raced-Heather's bi-curiosity surfacing in memories. "Honestly? Yes. I've always been curious about women. Experimented in college-a few flings. It's, liberating." True for her body. And hot to admit.
Summer's eyes lit up, ecstatic. Heather? Into women? Experimented? Oh my God. Internally: This could be my chance. Make a move later?
They delved deeper-Summer confessing, "I'm curious too. About my sexuality. Not sure yet, but, girls intrigue me. Not tell Amy or Mom, okay? Secret."
"I promise," John replied, mind whirling with ideas. She's a closet lesbian? Perfect. Crazy plans brewing-could I, with her? As Heather?
Topics shifted, landing on porn anecdotes for laughs. "Weirdest kink?" Summer teased.
John feigned shyness. "Oh, God, okay, MILF stuff, mom/son or mom/daughter roleplay. And, gender transformation, body swaps. Some TG/trans stuff. Plausible for me, right?" My actual kinks. Living one now.
Summer's intrigue peaked-surprised, aroused. Body swaps? Hot. I could listen to her forever. "Tell me more sometime?"
Massages ended, leading to dinner at the resort's seaside restaurant: candlelit tables, fresh seafood, wine flowing. Gossip flew-day's highlights, spa tales. Amy probed: "So, who caught your eye today? Hot guys around?"
Jessica grinned. "That lifeguard-tall, tanned. Yum." But John and Summer blushed, stammering vague answers, eyes meeting across the table with shared heat.
Back in his suite, John unwound, reflecting. Unbelievable. Staring at Summer all day, sharing secrets. She's into girls-maybe me. Even if not as John, worth it? He pondered his kinks: Living a body swap fantasy. Porn come to life.
Chapter 6: Summer Makes Her Move
The resort's restaurant lingered in Summer's mind like a hazy afterglow as she slipped back into her suite, the door clicking shut behind her with a soft finality. The room was a mirror of Heather's-ocean views framed by gauzy curtains, the bed inviting with its turned-down sheets, and the faint hum of waves crashing outside like a lullaby. But sleep was the last thing on her mind. Dinner had been electric: the way Heather's eyes had met hers across the table, that shared blush when Amy teased about crushes, the wine loosening tongues and inhibitions. Heather, into women? Experimented? And those kinks-body swaps, MILF roleplay. God, it's like she read my fantasies. Summer's skin tingled with the memory, a warmth spreading from her chest downward as she kicked off her sandals and padded to the mirror.
She stood there, illuminated by the soft glow of the bedside lamp, her red bikini swapped earlier for a simple tank top and shorts that clung to her damp skin from the evening humidity. Look at you, she thought, inner monologue swirling with a mix of nerves and desire. Twenty years old, closet lesbian, crushing on your best friend's mom. Pathetic? Or, bold? Her hands moved almost of their own accord, slipping under the hem of her tank top to lift it slowly over her head. Blonde waves tumbled free, framing her face as she tossed the top aside. Her E-cup breasts bounced gently, freed from confinement, nipples already hardening in the cool air-conditioned room. She cupped them, thumbs brushing the sensitive peaks, a soft sigh escaping her lips. So full, so sensitive. Imagine her hands on them-Heather's. Mature, knowing touch.
The shorts came next, shimmying down her long legs to reveal lacy panties that matched her earlier bikini-red and sheer, hinting at the neatly trimmed blonde patch beneath. She turned, admiring her reflection: taller frame lean and athletic from volleyball, ass firm and rounded, thighs toned from endless practices. I'm hot. She noticed me today-ogling at the pool, in the changing room. Those eyes on my body, Arousal built like a tide, her pussy aching with need. She slipped a hand into her panties, fingers finding her clit-swollen and slick already. Circling slowly, she moaned softly, imagining Heather's voice from the massage: I've experimented, curious about women. "Fuck," Summer whispered, her free hand pinching a nipple. What if I went to her room right now? Knocked, told her I can't stop thinking about her. Experimented, with me.
The fantasy spiraled: Heather pulling her inside, lips crashing, hands exploring. She's bi-curious. Shared those secrets. This could happen. Her fingers dipped lower, sliding into her wet folds, pumping gently as her knees weakened. Mentor me, like in those porn vids-the mom teaching the daughter. God, yes. Orgasm hovered close, but she stopped, breathing ragged. No. Not alone. Go to her. Now. Panties off, she grabbed a silk robe from the closet-thin and short, tying it loosely so it gaped at the front, hinting at her nudity beneath. Heart pounding, she slipped out into the dimly lit hallway, bare feet silent on the carpet, making her way to Heather's door. This is crazy. But if she turns me away, at least I tried. She knocked softly, pulse racing.
---
Back in Heather's suite, John paced the room, the nightgown whispering against his skin like a lover's promise. The silk fabric clung to his curves, nipples visible through the thin material, a constant reminder of his borrowed body. Dinner replayed in his mind: the gossip, the laughter, Summer's blush mirroring his own. She shared she's curious. About girls. And I-Heather-admitted to experimenting. Fuck, the ideas in my head, could I seduce her? As Mom? Taboo as hell, but, hot. He ran a hand through his brunette waves, arousal simmering from the day's sights-Summer's body, wet and glistening, her secret glances. Living my kink. Body swap porn come true. If only I could-
A knock shattered the silence. John's heart-or Heather's-leaped into his throat. Who the hell? At this hour? Peeking through the peephole, his breath caught: Summer, in a robe that barely contained her, blonde hair tousled, eyes wide with nervous determination. Oh shit. It's her. What does she want? Internally freaking: Calm down. Play it cool. But, what if this is it? He smoothed the nightgown, took a deep breath, and opened the door. "Summer? Is everything okay?"
She didn't answer with words. Stepping inside, she pushed the door shut behind her, locked it with a click, and surged forward. Her hands cupped Heather's face-John's face-and she kissed him fiercely, lips soft and urgent, tongue seeking entry. John gasped into the kiss, body responding instinctively: arms wrapping around her waist, pulling her close. The robe gaped, her naked breasts pressing against the nightgown, heat radiating through the fabric. Holy fuck, she's kissing me. Naked under there? This is happening. They stumbled backward, Summer guiding him toward the bed, her taller frame dominant yet gentle.
Breaking the kiss, Summer's blue eyes locked onto his, cheeks flushed. "Heather, I can't get you out of my head. All day-the pool, the changing room, the massage. You were staring. Ogling me. And what you said, about being curious, experimenting. It lit something in me."
John's mind reeled, but Heather's charisma surged: "Summer, honey, I noticed you too. Blushing, glancing back. You're beautiful. Irresistible." This is insane. My crush, making the move on me-as her. His pussy throbbed, wet and aching.
Summer's hands roamed, slipping under the nightgown to caress his hips. "I, I've never done this. With a woman. But I want to. With you." She hesitated, biting her lip. "Remember your kinks? The roleplay stuff? I have a favorite porn vid, the mom mentoring her daughter, teaching her about sex. Gentle at first, then, passionate. Will you? Roleplay that for me? Be the mom, show me?"
John's arousal spiked-One of my favorites too. The taboo mentor scene. He nodded, letting go, autopilot kicking in. Heather's sultriness blended with his knowledge, reciting lines perfectly. "Oh, sweetie," he purred in Heather's voice, seductive and maternal, "come here. Mommy's going to teach you everything. Make you feel so good." He pushed Summer gently onto the bed, climbing atop her, nightgown hiking up to reveal his thighs.
Summer moaned, robe falling open completely, exposing her nude body-breasts heaving, pussy glistening. John fondled her with grace: hands tracing her sides, cupping her E-cups softly, thumbs rolling nipples with deliberate, experienced touches. "Like this, baby? Feel how sensitive they are?" Summer arched, gasping. "Yes, Heather-Mommy-more."
But John switched to a male touch-his old instincts-groping harder, massaging her breasts roughly, pinching just enough to elicit a yelp. Summer's eyes widened. "That's, different. Rougher. Like a guy would."
He caught himself, switching back to Heather's graceful strokes, fingers trailing down her stomach. "Sorry, sweetie. Got carried away. Let Mommy show you properly." Lower now, he spread her legs, face inches from her pussy-pink and wet, scent musky and inviting. Diving in like a horny teenager-his true self-tongue lapping eagerly, sloppy and enthusiastic, sucking her clit with fervor. "Taste so good," he mumbled against her folds.
Summer writhed, hands in his hair. "Oh God, that's intense. Like a teen boy eating me out for the first time." She noticed the shift, but moaned louder. "Don't stop-switch back if you want. It's hot."
John obliged, alternating: graceful licks with Heather's precision, then teen-like enthusiasm-fingers plunging in, curling to hit her G-spot. Summer bucked, crying out. They kissed passionately next-tongues dancing, tastes mingling, bodies grinding. "Finger me," Summer begged, guiding his hand.
He did, two fingers sliding into her tightness, pumping rhythmically while his thumb worked her clit. "Like this? Feel Mommy filling you?" Summer reciprocated, hand slipping under the nightgown to find his pussy-wet and eager-fingers dipping in, exploring. "You're so wet, Heather. Taste yourself?" They ate each other out in turns: John on his back, Summer's face buried between his legs, tongue flicking his clit expertly now, drawing moans that echoed Heather's voice. "Yes, right there, baby. Lick Mommy's pussy."
Climax built, leading to scissoring: legs intertwined, pussies grinding. First position-side by side, hips rocking, clits rubbing in slick friction. "Fuck, yes," Summer gasped, breasts bouncing. They switched: Summer on top, dominant, grinding down hard; then John atop, using Heather's hips to maximize contact, juices mixing. Multiple positions-facing each other, backs arched; one on her back, the other straddling backward for deeper pressure. Orgasms crashed simultaneously: bodies shuddering, moans filling the room, waves of pleasure rippling through them.
Exhausted, they collapsed, embracing-Summer's head on Heather's chest, legs tangled, breaths syncing. "That was, incredible," Summer whispered, kissing his neck. "Thank you."
John held her, mind blissed: My dream. Intimate with Summer. Inside and out. They drifted to sleep, bodies entwined.
Morning light filtered in early, Summer stirring first. She slipped from the bed quietly, robe on, glancing back at the sleeping form. Can't get caught. But, wow. More later? She snuck out, door clicking softly.
John woke moments later, alone, sheets tangled and scented with sex. Was that, a dream? Felt so real. But the ache between his legs, the lingering taste on his lips-No. It happened. He rolled over, wondering if it was all a massive lucid fantasy, heart racing with confusion and lingering ecstasy.
Chapter 7: Back to Reality?
John's eyelids fluttered open to the familiar sight of his bedroom ceiling, the posters of video game characters and bands staring back at him like old friends. Sunlight streamed through the half-drawn blinds, casting striped patterns across his rumpled sheets. He groaned, shifting under the covers, immediately aware of the insistent throb between his legs-morning wood, tenting his boxers, and a sticky wetness that suggested a wet dream had spilled over into reality. What the hell was that? he thought, fragments of the night flashing like a fevered montage: Summer's body writhing against his-Heather's-scissoring in ecstasy, moans echoing in a spa suite. It felt so real. Too real. But, a dream? Yeah, must be. The most intense wet dream ever. Disappointment washed over him like a cold shower, his cock twitching one last time at the memory before he willed it down. Gone. All of it-the body swap, the explorations, Summer. Just my horny brain playing tricks.
He swung his legs over the bed, feet hitting the cool hardwood floor of his room-a teenage mess of discarded clothes, gaming controllers, and empty soda cans. The house felt eerily quiet, no clatter from the kitchen or Amy's music blasting from her room. Weird. Usually Mom's up making breakfast. He stripped off his sticky boxers, tossing them into the hamper, and grabbed a fresh pair from his drawer along with jeans and a t-shirt. A quick cleanup in his attached bathroom-splashing water on his face, brushing his teeth-did little to shake the lingering haze. That dream, possessing Mom's body, fucking Summer as her. Taboo as hell. Hot, though. Wish it wasn't just a subconscious jerk-off session.
Dressed now, he headed downstairs, the stairs creaking under his weight. The kitchen was empty, no coffee brewing, no note on the counter. "Mom? Amy?" he called out, voice echoing in the silence. A glance at the clock-9 AM on a Sunday-confirmed they should be home. Where is everyone? Did they go out early? His stomach rumbled, but before he could raid the fridge, a car horn blared outside, sharp and insistent.
Curiosity piqued, John peered through the front window. There, in the driveway, was Heather's SUV, doors open as four women unloaded bags: Heather, Jessica, Amy, and Summer. The spa trip. They must've just gotten back. But something felt off-Heather looked radiant, her brunette hair windswept, wearing that sexy sun dress from the dream, hugging her curves. Jessica, ever the MILF, laughed with Amy as they hauled luggage, her blonde locks catching the light. Summer, oh, Summer. She stood a bit apart, slinging a duffel over her shoulder, but her eyes were locked on Heather, scanning her up and down with an intensity that bordered on hunger. Is she, ogling Mom? Like, checking her out? Nah, can't be. John's mind spun, the dream's echoes making everything feel surreal.
The group spotted him in the window, waving him out. John stepped onto the porch, the warm Texas air hitting him like a wave. Heather was first to approach, arms open wide. "John, sweetie! There you are." She pulled him into a tight hug, her body pressing against his-soft breasts against his chest, the faint scent of jasmine shampoo and something muskier, like sex and sweat. He hugged back awkwardly, hyper-aware of how good she felt, the dream's intimacies flashing unbidden.
Pulling back, Heather's warm brown eyes met his, a playful sparkle in them that wasn't quite, her. "So, what did you get up to while we were gone? Play any good games?" She tilted her head, smiling. "That Elden Ring you mentioned-is it still as interesting as you said? The fire giant boss sounds brutal."
John froze, his brain short-circuiting. What? Mom knows about Elden Ring? The fire giant? I never told her that. He'd rambled about it to friends, sure, but Heather? She barely knew Mario from Minecraft. "Uh, yeah, it's cool. Beat it finally." His voice came out strained, confusion mounting.
Heather winked-actually winked-at him, leaning in closer so her breath tickled his ear. "Good boy. We should chat later about some, RPGs and scenarios we could try out. When we have more privacy." Her hand lingered on his arm, a subtle squeeze that sent a jolt straight to his groin. RPGs? Scenarios? Like roleplay? What the fuck is going on? Is she, flirting? With me? Her son? His mind reeled, the dream's body swap theory suddenly not so dreamlike. No way. Did it actually happen? Was I really in her body? And she, in mine?
He stammered a response-"Sure, Mom, sounds fun?"-but recovered enough to glance at the others. Jessica and Amy were busy with bags, chatting animatedly about the spa's hot tubs. Summer, though, waved from afar, her taller frame stunning in shorts and a crop top that showcased her E-cup bust and toned midriff. "Bye, John! Catch you later?" she called, blowing him a kiss with a wink. Then, when Jessica and Amy turned away, she mouthed "Thank you," her lips forming the words clearly, followed by a scissoring motion with her fingers-index and middle crossing like grinding legs.
John's jaw dropped, heat flooding his face-and his pants. Scissoring? Like, what we did in the dream? Thank you? For what? Confusion crashed over him like a tidal wave. This can't be coincidence. It happened. The swap was real. And Summer, she knows? Or thinks it was Mom? Fuck, I need answers. He waved back weakly, hoping to grill Heather later for insights.
The goodbyes wrapped up quickly-Jessica and Summer heading next door, Amy disappearing inside with her bags. Heather shot John one last knowing smile before following Amy, leaving him on the porch, mind spinning like a glitchy game.
Later that day, the living room hummed with normalcy-or what passed for it. John lounged on the couch, controller in hand but game paused, his thoughts a whirlwind. Amy sprawled nearby, scrolling her phone, while Heather sat in the armchair, flipping through a magazine but stealing glances at him. She's different. More, aware? Flirty? If the swap happened, does she remember? Did she experience my body while I was in hers? The taboo implications made his cock stir uncomfortably-imagining Heather in his teenage form, maybe even jerking off, exploring.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, jolting him. An unknown number, but the message preview showed a link and a heart emoji. He pulled it out, opening the text: "Hey John, it's Summer. Hope you enjoy these pics from the trip ;) Maybe we can meet up later to explore and have some 'fun'? as she was curious about meeting the real John," Attached was a link to a private photo album.
Summer? Texting me? With a winky face? Heart pounding, he clicked the link, the album loading in his browser. First, innocent group shots: the four women in sexy outfits at the spa-Heather in that white bikini, cleavage enhanced; Summer frolicking in the pool, water glistening on her curves; Jessica posing like a model; Amy laughing in her swimsuit. Selfies galore, all playful and hot.
But scrolling deeper, the tone shifted. Sexy solos: Summer in her robe, parted to show a nipple; Heather-Mom-in the nightgown, hand cupping her breast suggestively. Then nudes: Summer sprawled on the bed, legs spread, fingers teasing her pussy; Heather mirroring, her modest breasts bared, fingers dipped into her slit. And the foreplay shots-oh God-the two together: kissing passionately, Summer's larger tits mashed against Heather's; fingers intertwined in each other's pussies; scissoring positions, bodies grinding, faces contorted in pleasure. Explicit, unfiltered-cum-slicked thighs, moaning expressions captured in selfies.
John nearly dropped his phone, his cock instantly hard, straining against his jeans. This is, from last night. The 'dream.' But real. They did this. Summer and, Mom? Or me in Mom's body? And she's sending it to me? The message's words echoed: Curious about the real John. Did she know? Suspect the swap?
Amy glanced over. "You okay, bro? Look like you saw a ghost."
"Yeah, fine," he muttered, shoving the phone into his pants-right over his bulge, the vibration from another buzz making him twitch. Confront Mom? Text Summer back? What the hell is going on? But beneath the confusion, gratitude bloomed. Whoever-whatever-made this happen, thank you. He rejoined the conversation with a dazed smile, intrigued and aroused, the album's secrets burning in his pocket like a promise of more taboo adventures to come.
Epilogue: Revelations and Resolutions
The weeks following the spa trip blurred into a haze of normalcy laced with undercurrents of the extraordinary, like a dream that refused to fully dissipate. Willow Creek simmered under the relentless Texas sun, barbecues and pool parties filling the air with laughter and the scent of grilled burgers, but for John, every glance at Heather or text from Summer carried the weight of unspoken secrets. The photo album burned a hole in his phone's hidden folder-explicit reminders of a night he both cherished and questioned. Was it really me in her body? Or did some cosmic force just, make it happen? And Mom-why does she act like she knows more than she's letting on? He'd caught her staring at him during family dinners, a knowing smirk playing on her lips, her usual modest demeanor laced with a playful edge that mirrored his own geeky humor.
It all came to a head one humid evening, about two weeks after the trip. Amy had gone out with friends for a movie night, leaving the house quiet except for the hum of the AC and the distant chirp of crickets. John found Heather in the living room, lounging on the couch in a simple tank top and shorts that hugged her fit figure, her brunette hair loose and tousled. She was scrolling through her phone, but set it aside when he entered, her warm brown eyes lighting up with that new, intriguing sparkle. "Hey, sweetie. Come sit. We haven't had a real chat since the trip."
John's heart pounded as he sank into the armchair across from her, his mind racing. Now or never. Confront her. Figure out what the hell happened. He cleared his throat, trying to sound casual. "Mom, about that wink the day you got back. And asking about my games. You never cared about that stuff before. What's going on?"
Heather's expression softened, but there was a flush to her cheeks, a mix of guilt and something, excited? She leaned forward, her modest B-cup breasts shifting under the tank top, drawing his eye involuntarily-a taboo flicker he shoved down. "John, honey, I need to confess something. That night before the trip, when you, well, I heard you in your room. Wishing aloud about Summer. It was late, and I was passing by to check on you. I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but, it stirred something in me."
John's face burned, embarrassment mingling with shock. She heard me jerking off? Wishing to get closer to Summer? "Mom, I-"
She held up a hand, her voice steady but laced with vulnerability. "Let me finish. I've always felt responsible for you, especially after your dad. And hearing that wish, it unlocked memories of my own wilder days. College experiments, curiosities I buried. But that night, something shifted. Like a, spark. The next morning, I woke up feeling different. More alive. And during the trip," She trailed off, biting her lip, her eyes darting away as if reliving it. God, what did I do? With Summer-my daughter's best friend. It felt so right, so intense. But was it me? Or something else?
"What about the trip?" John pressed, leaning in, his pulse racing. She thinks she did it. With Summer. But it was me-in her body.
Heather sighed, running a hand through her hair-a gesture so like his own nervous tic that it sent a chill down his spine. "Summer and I, we got close. Intimate. She came to my room that night, and I, I went with it. Roleplayed, explored. It was like I was channeling something younger, hornier. Like parts of you, maybe? Your energy?" She laughed softly, but it was tinged with self-doubt. "I feel responsible. For crossing lines with her. She's Amy's friend, and I'm, well, me. But it happened, and now I can't stop thinking about it. The thrill, the taboo."
John's mind whirled. She wasn't in my body. No swap for her. But she felt it-my influence? My personality bleeding through? Internally, relief and arousal battled: So it was me, fully. But she thinks it was her own will. And now she's, changed? Showing my traits? "Mom, that's, intense. But why the game talk? The winks?"
She smiled, a playful glint in her eye that was unmistakably his own geeky charm. "Since that night, I've felt more, adventurous. Like I've got this new side. Your side? I've even looked up some of those videos you might like. Body swap stuff, gender transformations. Kinky, right?" She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper, laced with a seductive lilt he'd heard in her body. "What if we roleplayed one? Just us. I could be the son, you the mom-or swap it. Explore those scenarios. It'd be our secret. Fun, taboo, intimate."
John's cock stirred at the suggestion, the taboo heat of it overwhelming. Mom wants to roleplay a body swap? With me? Fuck, that's my kink. But she's my step-mom, He swallowed hard, nodding slowly. "I, yeah. Maybe. We can talk about it."
Heather's eyes sparkled, reaching out to squeeze his hand. "Good. I love you, John. And I'm sorry if I overstepped with Summer. But it felt, right." She pulled back, the moment heavy with unspoken possibilities, leaving John dazed as she headed upstairs. She's got my personality now. Wants to play out my fantasies. This summer's just getting weirder-and hotter.
As the days stretched into the final week of summer break, the neighborhood buzzed with back-to-school prep, but John's focus narrowed to Summer. Texts had flown between them-flirty at first, then explicit: shared memories of the album pics, teasing promises of "meeting the real John." She knows something. That 'thank you' and scissor motion-it's like she suspects I was involved. Amy headed back to college early for orientation, and Heather busied herself with work, leaving John with pockets of freedom. The climax came on a sultry Friday evening, a text from Summer lighting up his phone: "Meet me at the old park trailhead. 8 PM. Alone. Got something to show you, and do to you. ;)"
The park was a secluded spot on the edge of town-winding trails through woods, a hidden clearing by a creek where teens snuck off for privacy. John arrived as the sun dipped low, fireflies flickering in the dusk, his nerves electric. Summer waited on a picnic blanket, looking ethereal in a short sundress that hugged her taller frame, her blonde waves glowing in the fading light, E-cup breasts straining the fabric. "John," she purred, standing to hug him-bodies pressing close, her curves against his lean form. "Finally. The real you."
They sat, the air thick with tension, a bottle of wine between them. "Summer, those pics. The trip. What happened with, Mom?" He hesitated, probing.
She smiled mysteriously, sipping wine. "Oh, I know, John. You were responsible. Somehow. That night with Heather-it was you in there, wasn't it? Your energy, your kinks spilling out. The way she switched touches, knew my favorite scenes, it was too perfect. Too you." She leaned in, her hand on his thigh. "Don't ask how I know. A girl's got her secrets. But thank you. It opened my eyes. Made me want the original."
John's breath hitched, arousal surging. She knows. Doesn't care how. Wants me. "Summer, I-"
"Shh." She kissed him, soft at first, then hungry-tongues dancing, her larger body pressing him back onto the blanket. Hands roamed: hers under his shirt, nails raking his chest; his cupping her ass, squeezing the firm cheeks. "I've wanted this since that hug when I got home. But now, after tasting a piece of you, I need the full thing."
She pushed him flat, unzipping his jeans with deft fingers, freeing his hardening cock-thick and veined, already leaking pre-cum. "Look at you. Real boy parts." She licked her lips, blue eyes locked on his as she lowered her head. Her mouth enveloped him-warm, wet, tongue swirling the head, sucking gently at first, then deeper. John groaned, hands in her blonde hair, as she bobbed-taking him halfway, then all, throat relaxing around him. Fuck, her mouth, so skilled. Bigger tits bouncing as she sucks. She hummed, vibrations sending shocks through him, one hand stroking the base while the other fondled his balls.
"Summer, God, yes," he moaned, hips bucking lightly. She popped off briefly, grinning. "Taste different. Saltier. Love it." Back down, faster now-sloppy, saliva dripping, her free hand slipping under her dress to rub her pussy. The sight pushed him close, but she sensed it, pulling off with a wet pop. "Not yet. Want you inside me first."
She straddled him, dress hiked up-no panties, her wet pussy hovering over his cock. "Condom?" he gasped.
"On the pill. Clean. You?" He nodded, and she sank down-tight, hot walls gripping him inch by inch, her E-cups bouncing as she rode. "Fuck, John, feels so good. Different from scissoring, but, perfect." She ground her hips, clit rubbing against his base, moans filling the clearing. John thrust up, hands on her breasts-squeezing, pinching nipples-then flipped her onto her back, pounding deeper. Positions shifted: missionary, her legs over his shoulders for depth; doggy, ass jiggling as he slapped it lightly; cowgirl again, her taller body dominating.
Orgasms built-hers first, pussy clenching around him, crying out as she came. He followed, pulling out to cum on her stomach-hot ropes painting her skin. Breathless, they collapsed, laughing softly. "The real John's even better," she whispered, kissing him. "More this summer? And beyond?"
"Absolutely," he replied, the gender-bending whirlwind of the break culminating in this raw, real connection. As stars emerged overhead, John thanked whatever force had twisted his wish into this taboo, erotic reality-closer to Summer than ever, inside and out.
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Chapter by
ninhjimmy007 · 14 Jun 2025 -
Liam and Chloe is a couple and been dating each other for a long time. They enjoy their life, adventure, and even have sex. Suddenly, after they're climax, Chloe's body starts to glow and transforms into a different woman.
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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.
Chapter 2 - The British MILF in Girlfriend What - A Doctor Who Regeneration Parody
After Chloe transforms into Beatrice, he finds it kinky with her transformation or regeneration when she changes into someone else. Plus, it's hard to imagine that Beatrice was his girlfriend. Then again, it's way better than Doctor Who.