Consciousness returned in a sickening, dizzying swirl. Jake felt like he’d been tumbled in a washing machine filled with cold grease. He was a scattered, jellied mess, clinging to the slick curve of a porcelain bowl. A toilet bowl.

Memories slammed back: Stacey’s furious eyes, her impossibly strong grip, the agonizing rip as she tore him out of himself. The roaring vortex of the flush. That bitch. He’d been swept through miles of sewer pipe, a piece of sentient garbage, for who knew how long. Rage, cold and sharp, cut through the disorientation. He’d have his revenge. But first, he had to get back. And he had no idea how far he’d drifted.

He pooled his form, pulling the disparate, weakened parts of himself together into a cohesive, grapefruit-sized blob of violet slime. He pulsed, testing his strength. He was diminished, but whole. He looked up. The rim of the toilet was high above, a circle of dull light.

A door opened. Footsteps. Casual, unhurried. Jake went still.

He heard the rustle of fabric, the soft snick of a button, the whisper of denim sliding down thighs. The bowl went dark as a shadow blocked the light. Someone was sitting down.

Jake didn’t hesitate. This was his chance. As the person settled, he caught a glimpse from his low angle: the soft curve of inner thighs, and between them, the delicate, pink folds of a pussy. What luck!

He launched himself upward in a single, fluid motion. The slime stretched into a cord and dove inside.

The body above him jerked, a sharp intake of breath. The host reeled back on the toilet seat, a hand flying to her stomach. Jake flowed in, the familiar cold rush blossoming into warm, total control. He pushed the girl’s consciousness down into a deep, dreamless sleep.

He—she—stood up on slightly shaky legs, pulling up the jeans and fastening them. He walked to the mirror over the sink.

A pretty young face stared back. Big, doe-like blue eyes, currently wide with his own predatory glee. A smattering of freckles across a small, upturned nose. Dirty blond hair pulled into a messy, high ponytail. She was petite, maybe five-two, with a slender frame that still carried a soft, tempting swell in the chest and a cute, round backside. He smiled, and the girl’s face lit up with an expression it probably rarely wore: a look of hungry possession.

“Not bad,” Jake said, the voice a light, girlish soprano. He cupped the new breasts through the thin t-shirt, gave them an appreciative squeeze. He slid a hand into the jeans, exploring. A little pick-me-up after his humiliating blunder. He found all the right spots, making the body shiver and gasp until a flush painted the cheeks in the mirror. Satisfied, he zipped back up.

He left the bathroom, scouting. The hallway was lined with doors plastered with glittery letters and dry-erase boards. Loud pop music thumped from somewhere downstairs, and he could hear the shriek of feminine laughter. A sorority house. His grin widened. A house full of young, fit, gorgeous college girls. The possibilities were a delicious distraction.

But revenge came first. Stacey was waiting.

He found the room that belonged to his new host. It was messy in a cozy way: clothes everywhere, textbooks stacked on a desk, a laptop covered in stickers. He riffled through a purse on the bed. A student ID card gave him a name: Allyson “Ally” Reed. No driver’s license. He checked the desk, the closet, under the bed. No car keys. A wallet yielded a few crumpled singles and a debit card. Useless.

He needed wheels.

The room next door had a whiteboard that read “Leah & Chloe – KNOCK FIRST!! :)”. He knocked. A moment later, the door opened.

The girl who answered made Jake’s borrowed breath catch. She was taller than Ally, with rich, chocolate-brown hair tumbling around her shoulders. She wore tiny sleep shorts and a cropped tank top that showcased a flat, toned stomach and, more importantly, a pair of hips and an ass that absolutely rivaled Ava’s. The shorts strained over plump, powerful thighs.

“Ally? What’s up?” Leah asked, leaning against the doorframe.

Jake summoned Ally’s most charming, slightly ditzy smile. “Hey, Leah! So, I have, like, a huge emergency. Any chance I could bum a ride? My car’s totally dead.” He batted Ally’s eyelashes for good measure.

Leah laughed, a warm, bubbly sound. “You’re hilarious. You know I don’t have a car. Chloe’s the one with the Civic, remember? She’s at the library.”

Disappointment warred with a rising, insistent lust. The longer he looked at Leah, the more he wanted her. Those thighs… that ass… Revenge first. But a quick upgrade couldn’t hurt.

His smile turned sharp. “Right. Of course.” In one smooth motion, he stepped forward, shoving Leah back into her room and kicking the door shut behind him.

“Hey! What the—” Leah’s protest was cut off as Jake, using Ally’s smaller body with surprising force, drove her onto the bed, pinning her wrists.

“Just a little upgrade,” Jake whispered. He focused, and from between Ally’s legs, the violet slime emerged. Leah’s eyes went wide with terror as it snaked toward her, slipping effortlessly beneath the waistband of her shorts. She stiffened, then went limp.

Ally’s body collapsed beside her.

Jake opened his eyes. He was looking at the ceiling from Leah’s bed. He sat up, marveling at the new height, the feeling of power in Leah’s longer limbs. He stood and quickly stripped both unconscious bodies, tossing Ally’s clothes and Leah’s sleepwear into a pile.

He was admiring Leah’s naked form in her full-length mirror when Ally began to stir on the bed with a soft groan.

Jake was ready. He climbed onto the bed, straddling Ally’s smaller body as she blinked awake, confusion etched on her pretty face.

“Wh… Leah? What happened?” Ally mumbled, trying to cover herself.

Jake leaned down, capturing her mouth in a deep, passionate kiss. When he pulled back, he let Leah’s face show playful reproach. “What happened? We were in the middle of something amazing, and you totally spaced out on me! You okay?”

Ally’s brow furrowed. Fragments of memory—sitting on the toilet, a strange cold feeling—clashed with the overwhelming present: her naked body, Leah’s naked body on top of her, the lingering buzz of arousal Jake had left in Ally’s system. The simpler, more exciting explanation won.

“I… I spaced out? God, I’m sorry,” Ally breathed, her hands coming up to rest on Leah’s hips. “Don’t stop.”

Jake didn’t. He made love to Ally with Leah’s body, learning its strengths, reveling in the contrast between Leah’s athletic curves and Ally’s petite softness. When Ally cried out her climax, shuddering beneath him, he smiled. Perfect.

He waited until her breathing evened out into post-coital drowsiness. Then he focused. Switch.

In an instant, he was back in Ally. He looked over at Leah’s body, which was just beginning to stir.

“Mmm… Ally?” Leah murmured, her eyes fluttering open. She saw Ally naked beside her, felt her own nakedness, the pleasant, used ache between her legs. Her confusion mirrored Ally’s from minutes before.

Jake-in-Ally put a finger to Leah’s lips. “Shhh. You were incredible, but you totally passed out for a sec at the end. You okay?” He let Ally’s face show concern mixed with hungry desire. “I’m not done with you yet.”

The trick worked just as seamlessly the second time. Leah, blushing and smiling, pulled Ally on top of her. “I’m more than okay,” she whispered.

After they had both climaxed again, a tangled, sweaty heap, Jake transferred once more, settling back into Leah’s superior form. He left Ally asleep and sated in Leah’s bed.

Revenge. He needed a car. He’d forgotten to ask which sister actually had one.

No matter. He’d ask in person.

He pulled on a pair of Leah’s yoga pants and a tight t-shirt and left the room. He knocked on the next door down. It was opened by a redhead named Megan, who was studying at her desk. “Leah! What’s up?”

“Hey Meg, quick question,” Jake said, leaning in the doorway with Leah’s easy smile. “My phone’s dead. Can I borrow your car for like an hour? Emergency.”

Megan winced. “Sorry, I wish! I don’t have one either.”

“No worries,” Jake said, his smile not slipping. He stepped inside, closing the door. “But since you’re here…”

Ten minutes later, Jake left Megan’s room, now in control of Megan’s lithe, pale body. The redhead’s consciousness was tucked away, and her roommate was napping peacefully, convinced they’d just shared a spontaneous, passionate study break.

He repeated the process. Room by room, body by body. He became a blonde volleyball player named Skye, then a curvy engineering major named Priya, then a bubbly dance minor named Kelsey. Each time, he asked about a car. Each time, the answer was no, or the car was gone with another sister. Each time, he enjoyed his new host thoroughly before moving on, a chain of blissful, oblivious women left in his wake.

Finally, he reached the room of a tall, serene-looking girl named Hannah. When he asked—now using Kelsey’s perky voice—about a car, Hannah nodded. “Yeah, my Jetta’s out back. Keys are on my desk. You need it?”

Jake’s heart leapt. “You’re a lifesaver, Hannah!” He didn’t need to switch this time. He just took the keys.

In Kelsey’s body, he jogged downstairs, through the now-quiet common room, and out the back door. A silver Volkswagen Jetta sat in a designated spot. He slid into the driver’s seat, the leather cool against Kelsey’s bare legs (he’d appropriated her shorts, too). He started the engine, the familiar vibration feeling like victory.

He plugged the sorority house address into the car’s GPS, then searched for his old apartment. The route calculated. He hadn’t been carried as far as he’d feared. A few hours by car. Manageable.

A fierce, determined grin spread across Kelsey’s sweet face. He put the car in drive and pulled out of the lot, merging into the late-afternoon traffic.

Stacey had no idea what was coming for her. He was on his way.