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  • Ch.06 - Contrary Impressions

    Chapter by FeverDreamer · 26 Feb 2025
  • Discovering a new and more effective means of conveying knowledge represented a great opportunity but also a risk. It wasn't that I didn't know what Fiona would do once she learned how to use the technology: I knew exactly what she wanted.
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  • Fiona was still in bed, or at least still in her room when I started to make breakfast. I’d just finished chopping the mushrooms and bacon for an omelette when I heard the door to her room open and she stumbled in, still in the pyjamas I’d put on for her and looking somewhat disheveled.

    “Morning,” I said, pointing to my piled ingredients with the knife to query if she was interested.

    Fiona nodded, but with an expression that suggested something was on her mind.

    After a lengthy silence filled only by the sound of food prep, she spoke in the exaggerated, sing-song tone of someone with a secret to share.

    “I had the weirdest dream last night.”

    “Yeah?” I said, trying to appear nonchalant while a chill of excitement ran across my scalp. There wasn’t any real risk of her objecting to what I’d done last night, but I was eager to know what the experience had been like from her perspective.

    “Yeah,” Fiona continued, slowly taking a seat at the table as though not convinced it wouldn’t dissolve when she sat down. “I dreamed that I was still me, but I wasn’t me inside. If that makes sense.”

    “Mm,” I said noncommittally, sliding the bacon bits into a bowl.

    Fiona let the silence drag out before dropping the bomb.

    “I dreamed that I was you.”

    I put the knife down and turned to face her, leaning back against the counter as casually as I dared. Fiona looked back with an intense, appraising look, waiting to see how I would react.

    “That’s interesting,” I said. “What gave you the impression that you were me?”

    Fiona shrugged. “I just did. I thought of myself as you, and when I found myself in this body, I thought of it as ‘Fiona’s’ body, not… you know, mine.”

    “And what did you do in your dream?”

    “I walked her - my - body in front of the mirror over there and tried to pose,” she said, gesturing towards the mirror behind her. “But because I wasn’t me, I didn’t really know how to do it very well. And I was kind of tired anyway, so I went to bed and after a while the dream kind of ended.”

    I didn’t say anything at first, choosing instead to let my gaze wander along the ceiling while I considered the implications of what she had said. Realising that breakfast still needed to be made, I turned around and got back to cooking.

    “Marcus?” Fiona said, sweetly. “That wasn’t a dream, was it?”

    I glanced over my shoulder, and she had an expression of almost predatory excitement on her face.

    “Short answer, no,” I said as I turned the heat on. “I was still controlling your body after you fell asleep last night. I did take a moment to try to pose in front of the mirror. You say that you didn’t think of ‘you’ as ‘yourself’ - do you remember thinking anything else?”

    “I remember being kind of excited at having control over F- I mean, my body with no-one else in it,” Fiona said, almost referring to herself in the third person. “And I remember thinking about a bunch of technical stuff. It made sense in the dream, but trying to think about it now, it’s like… It’s like I’ve got the top half of a skyscraper, but it’s just floating in midair because there’s no lobby.”

    Doing my best not to betray my own interest, I plated her omelette and served it to her before pouring the rest of the egg mix into the frying pan. Trying to recall the calculations I had made while still inside her head, I pulled one out at random.

    “Well, you’re clearly more receptive while you’re asleep. I can probably tweak the broadcast range to take advantage of that, but I don’t know what frequency to set as my floor.”

    “Sixteen hertz should do it,” Fiona said, freezing with a forkful of egg halfway to her mouth as she realised what she had just said.

    “Now hold on,” I said quickly to forestall any sudden outbursts.

    “I knew that!” Fiona exclaimed, standing out of her chair, breakfast forgotten.

    “You REMEMBERED it from me,” I corrected her.

    “Yeah, same thing!” Fiona said. “This is it! This is how you can teach me!”

    “Yes, fine, this is a positive development but hold on for just a moment,” I said, waving her back into her seat and gesturing at her cooling omelette. “WHY should we set the floor at sixteen hertz?”

    Fiona’s face took on a credulous expression, as though she’d been asked to explain why candy was sweet.

    “Obviously, it’s because you… you want to… that’s the…”

    Her condescension quickly gave way to confusion, then frustration as she tried to grasp at the traces of knowledge I’d inadvertently left in her mind.

    “Looks like you’ve only picked up on individual specifics without the underlying theories,” I said, taking a seat with my own plate. “There’s a lot of assumed knowledge behind those calculations that you’re not familiar with.”

    Fiona pouted, finishing her food in silence.

    “But this is good,” I said, only half-thinking it actually was. I’d gotten used to the idea of being the only one in control, but as much as I would have liked things to stay that way, the discovery had pushed the agenda forward. The only way to keep her subservient at that point would be to stunt her will, which wasn’t about to do.

    Fiona brightened up.

    “I’ll grab some sleeping pills while you work and we can do another transmission this afternoon!”

    “No,” I said, watching her sag with annoyance and disappointment. “No pills. No drugs. I have no idea what the effects of trying to transmit to you would be while you’re under the influence, so natural sleep only. Besides, I thought you had plans today?”

    Fiona huffed and grumbled. “Just a house party. I don’t even like the guy that much, but I’m friends with his friends I guess.”

    Internally I froze, recognising a pang of jealousy at the mention of another man in her life. A stupid, childish emotional response: As if I needed to worry about anyone stealing the woman whose mind and body I’d spent the last week corrupting with my own thoughts. It was even possible that her apathy was a result of the part of me still controlling her.

    Fiona saw me hesitate and grinned. “Want me to stay here and watch you work instead? Like I said, I don’t even like him, I just agreed to show face for a bit. You know how it is.”

    I did not, in fact, know how it was, having lived a very solitary life at her age, but that was besides the point.

    “Best that you keep up appearances while I’m working,” I said. “Until I can fully catch you up, you’ll just be a distraction.”

    Fiona looked like she was about to deny the accusation, then pulled a face that expressed grudging agreement before shifting into an impish grin.

    “Fine. I’ll get changed now - I’m sure there’s at least a few people there early for pre-drinks.”

    Somewhat unnerved by her change in demeanour but also not wanting to seem indecisive, I let her go and cleaned up.

    Less than an hour later, Fiona was dressed in something skimpy and flying out the door, leaving me alone to get some work done.

    Her memory of my own thoughts was both fortunate and frustrating. I really would have liked to have more time enjoying my dominant role in our relationship, but the frustration of not knowing how to progress things when I was ready had been a burr in my brain. Grateful at least for the breakthrough, I spent the next several hours disassembling and fine-tuning the equipment I had with painstaking care: Almost every component was critical and I didn’t have the hardware needed to create replacements if I broke something, so fucking up wasn’t an option.

    I was in the kitchen giving my eyes a rest when Fiona burst in through the door - not exactly drunk, but certainly louder than usual.

    “Hey!” she half-yelled when she spotted me. “Is it done? Is it ready?”

    I shrugged. “It’s as ready as I can make it with the tools I’ve got.”

    Fiona punched the air. “Fuck yeah! Let’s do it then!”

    I grimaced. “Not with you like that. No drugs, remember? I don’t want to have you drunk while you’re under.”

    “Pfft, I’m not drunk,” Fiona scoffed, sitting down and sprawling her arms out on the table. “I’ve just got a bit of a buzz on, it’ll be fine. Come ooon~ the party was sooo boring. Don’t be a dick.”

    “You didn’t make out with any cute guys?” I asked, half out of mischief and half insecurity.

    “No,” Fiona said, pulling a face. “They’re all idiots. God, they’re so full of themselves. And dumb. And boring. And boring and dumb. Also, they’d be totally weirded out if they found out I’ve kind of had a guy inside me for an entire week solid.”

    “That’s… not exactly,” I said.

    “But the girls are kinda into it,” Fiona continued, grinning with her eyes closed. “Obviously, they don’t believe me, but we’re just fooling around, so it’s funny. And I feel that little bit of you making me want to do things that the old me never would have thought of. Makes me want to take them over the way you took me over and make them into weirdo pervs, too.”

    Fiona suddenly raised one arm, pointing a finger at me. “On that note! We’ve got the nanites in us, right?”

    I hesitated, not certain I was going to like where the conversation was headed.

    “Yes?”

    “And they can’t survive for long outside of a body, right? Like, if I sneeze or cough, any nanites I spit out are just going to dissolve or whatever.”

    “That’s right…”

    “But if they leave my body and go straight into another body, they should be able to multiply and take over, yeah?”

    “That’s… oh.”

    Fiona’s grin widened as she spoke in a sing-song voice. “I think you’re going to have a few new test subjects soon. And when I invite them over, we’ll get to play with them together~”

    I hadn’t really considered the consequences of the nanites being functionally infectious. It wasn’t as if I was going to have the opportunity to seduce someone who wasn’t already a host. It was reckless of Fiona to go around infecting her friends, but then I really wasn’t in a position to criticise her, having already done the same thing to a few of them myself.

    I resisted the urge to run downstairs. Unless they were right outside the house, they wouldn’t show up on the monitor, but the second they were in range, I could take control of them too.

    A grunt from Fiona brought me out of the hypothetical future and back to the present.

    “Mmm, I miss having a dick.”

    “You… what?”

    “Not literally,” she mumbled, waving a hand dismissively. “But I’ve seen the way you look at me when you’re wearing my face. Even when you’re inside me, you want to fuck me and because you’re in my head, that means I want to fuck me, too. Except you actually get to do it sometimes and I don’t get to do it at all. The best I can hope for is the second-hand memory I got from when I was in you when you were in me. It’s not fair.”

    Another unintended side effect, but one that I could sympathise with. She apparently hadn’t realised it, but I felt something very similar, just from the other direction, as it were.

    “Get some rest,” I said. “We can try the transfer tomorrow.”

    “But I’m not drunk!” Fiona protested.

    “Well, you’re not sober, so I’m not going to risk it. Go to bed, sleep it off, we’ll do this when you’re back tomorrow night.”

    With a harrumph, Fiona stood up from the table, made a face at me and trudged off to her room.

    I admitted to myself that maybe it would have been better to let her stay for the day, if only to keep her out of trouble, but it was too late for regrets. Instead, I resolved not to take any unnecessary risks and go to bed myself.

    That lasted all of about an hour.

    As much as I wasn’t about to admit it to her, I had been hoping to test the changes I’d made that night as well. If I hadn’t been so bent on feigning indifference about her going to a party, she would have still been sober and we could have tried it immediately.

    I lay in bed, staring at the faint street light casting shadows on my ceiling.

    What would the actual consequences of transmitting to an inebriated target be? Ultimately, the signal either makes it or it doesn’t, right? I could check the readings to make sure the nanites weren’t experiencing any interference to and from the console - there’s no reason a little alcohol in the bloodstream would cause that, but I could check just to be sure. If anything, it should make transmission easier, because the target’s inhibitions would be lowered if they were conscious and if they were asleep, then it wouldn’t make a difference, right?

    Minute after excruciating minute crawled by and I was no closer to falling asleep. Instead, I felt the increasing itch of temptation at the back of my mind until finally I threw aside the covers, climbed out of bed and went downstairs.

    I knocked softly on the door to Fiona’s room, and when I didn’t hear anything, I opened the door, revealing her half-naked and sprawled out on her bed in the dim light of her bedside lamp.

    “Fiona!” I hissed.

    She didn’t respond.

    Worried that something might have happened - and not really concerned about propriety, given what we had already done together - I let myself in and made sure she was still breathing and hadn’t been sick anywhere. Satisfied that she was just asleep, I pulled some sheets over her and left the room quietly.

    I already had her permission. Not that I needed it, but I had it. I was the one who had originally held out, but now that I’d changed my mind, there was no reason to ask again, right?

    I steadied my breath as I convinced myself that it made perfect sense.

    Still in my pyjamas, I went to the basement and booted up the modified equipment. I’d reconfigured it to allow a much higher throughput of information, specifically removing blocks on frequencies that we had isolated during lab tests to avoid any unnecessary or distracting noise.

    I set the timer for a short session. I didn’t know what effect a longer one would have on the quality of sleep either of us received, and with Monday ahead, I didn’t want to impact Fiona’s ability to study the next day. Laying back on the chair, I started the timer to initialisation and closed my eyes.

    And opened them again in the dim light of Fiona’s room. It was a bit strange: Every transmission had started with a mild case of vertigo as I shifted not only perspective but also from my inert position into whatever activity Fiona had been doing at the time. Jumping into a sleeping body, there was no sense of disorientation at all.

    That didn’t last long, however. As soon as I sat up in her bed, I was struck by the strangeness of having to move someone else’s body without the benefit of being able to utilise their own control and familiarity. Stranger still, this was a fresh solo jump rather than being left alone only at the end of a lengthy joint session.

    More than ever, I was acutely aware of the weight on my chest, the emptiness between my legs, the smoothness of my skin and how much bigger everything felt in this smaller body. The muscles in my arms and legs felt weird as I shifted my weight, bringing my legs towards the side of the bed. My skin was much more sensitive, and I felt the texture of the sheets with greater acuity than I’d ever felt them in my own body. It was the same for the carpet as my feet touched the floor and the shirt against my breasts as they wobbled with my movements.

    I’d spent the last week enjoying myself in this body, but the difference between pulling on Fiona’s strings while she was conscious and having to pilot it myself was disorienting.

    It wasn’t so different that I was unsteady on my feet, but nevertheless I found myself a little unbalanced as I made my way out of Fiona’s room and downstairs to the basement. The difference in my body size made me almost fall down the steps, automatically moving as though I were still in my own body and trying to plant my foot a good inch above where it needed to be.

    It felt almost spooky standing next to myself while alone in Fiona’s head. Without her perception mediating mine, my body looked much bigger to my current self. I half expected it to suddenly open its eyes and sit up, which was a terrifying thought.

    What struck me as especially odd was that even though I had already experienced and enjoyed having sex with my own unconscious body several times, at that moment I felt almost no attraction to my body at all. There was a faint nagging sensation that something should be happening, but I felt no arousal looking down at my male self, and was even slightly disgusted when I unbuttoned the fly of my pyjamas and flopped my penis out.

    A quirk of perspective, presumably: Fiona would have hungered for it, and I would have experienced that hunger from the back of her mind, but with just me in charge, it was actually a massive turnoff. I could barely bring myself to stuff the limp, squishy thing back into my pants before going upstairs and thoroughly washing my hands.

    I made a second attempt at a strip-tease in the mirror, but my awkwardness in Fiona’s body made it basically graceless. Even the way I stood in her body made it look oafish and gangly.

    So much for any erotic exploits.

    I returned to the basement and sat down at the terminal, adjusting the session timer so that it would expire sooner and automatically export signal diagnostics for the new configuration so I could look over them in the morning. A brief glance at the activity trace showed promising results, but I wouldn’t know for sure just how much throughput had improved until I quizzed Fiona in the morning.

    Heading back to Fiona’s room, I tucked myself back under the sheets and waited until the timer expired.

    Back in my own body, I adjusted the pants that I had so hastily re-buttoned from outside of myself and sat up. The recorded logs indicated that a much larger amount of information had in fact been transmitted, so that was promising. I didn’t have the energy for an in-depth analysis, and the disappointing discovery that sole control of Fiona’s body was much less sexy and much more awkward had put me in the mood to make any further attempts a problem for tomorrow.

    In the meantime, I turned everything off, trudged up to bed and fell asleep.

    * * *

    I can’t remember the last time I was woken up by the sound of someone loudly knocking on my door, but I’m sure I hated it back then just as much as I did the next morning.

    “What?” I shouted from my bed.

    “You awake?” Fiona’s voice came slightly muffled through the door.

    “I am now,” I yelled back irritably. “What is it?”

    Instead of an answer, I hear the sound of hurried footsteps going down the stairs. Without any clue why Fiona had done it, I made a mental note to discuss when it was and wasn’t appropriate to wake someone up before rolling over and trying to go back to sleep.

    It didn’t last long. A shiver of restlessness ran through me and I rolled onto my back, spreading myself out on my bed and staring at the ceiling. I was wide awake, so no hope of getting any more rest, but that didn’t mean I had to get out of bed just yet.

    I raised one hand in front of my face, just turning it this way and that. I’d never really taken the time to examine myself recently, so it was interesting looking at the finer details on my hand. If I’d seen it anywhere else, I might not have even recognised it as mine. I raised both hands, rubbing my palms against each other, then tracing them along my arms: The hairy outside and the smooth underside, the difference in colour tone from where I’d caught more of a tan, the individual moles and scars that I’d picked up over the years, watching the subtle flex of tenders beneath the skin when I moved my fingers.

    I grinned. For the first time I felt actually kind of happy with my own body. Sure, I wasn’t exactly an olympic athlete, but I’d taken pretty good care of myself, all things considered.

    I swung myself out of bed, planting my feet firmly on the cold floorboards. I took a second to look around my room - not just a glance, but really drink it in. You spend so much of your life in the same place, you end up forgetting how much of it is meaningful to you: My collection of books (both for research and recreation, sometimes both), my awards and credentials, my pile of clean-but-unsorted laundry.

    With Fiona gone, I had a moment to myself to really appreciate (and critique) just how much stuff I’d accrued around myself. It was like a thankfulness exercise, where I just looked at something and recounted the history I shared with it.

    It wasn’t long before I’d worked my way through my bedroom belongings and wandered into the bathroom, startling myself as I saw my own reflection. That’s what I get for zoning out I guess - You let your mind wander too much and the next thing you know, you’re mistaking your own shadow for an intruder.

    I stripped down to get a good look at myself. Never one to take too much pride in my appearance, I was able to muster a small amount of approval at what I saw. I’d managed to keep in generally good shape during my early retirement and some experimental flexes showed some decent musculature for someone who spent more of their life lifting nanograms than kilograms.

    A tightening sensation at my crotch made me look down and to my sudden shock, I realised I was getting hard. I reached down and touched myself experimentally and jumped when I felt my crotch twitch. It wasn’t as if it were a new sensation, but I was suddenly feeling extremely horny and internally grimaced when I realised that Fiona wouldn’t be back for hours.

    I suddenly found myself striding naked downstairs to the kitchen, then straight to the basement door. Maybe it was time to see if I could extend the range of my equipment after all - I was almost painfully hard, which would keep me motivated.

    I stopped dead when I saw that Fiona was actually naked and asleep in the chair, wired up to the equipment as though she were transmitting. The display even showed that she was linked to me, but I didn’t feel her controlling me at all.

    The cheeky little minx. She must have picked up some of my knowledge last night after all. Not enough to use the equipment properly, it seemed: No doubt she’d messed up one of the settings and gotten herself stuck spectating instead of controlling.

    There was a brief moment of embarrassment when I realised this meant she would have seen me appraising myself earlier, but I grinned when I thought about the control she had inadvertently given to me. If she wanted to see and feel the world from my perspective so badly, I’d give her the full experience.

    I took my time with her, helpless as she was in front of me. Fiona was probably begging me not to do anything harmful to her inert body - and I wasn’t about to, but it was important that she understand the gravity of the mistake she had made. I poked her face, squeezed her cheeks between my fingers so that her lips puckered and opened one eye, watching the pupil contract despite no conscious mind occupying its body.

    I caressed her hair, moving my hand behind her head to cradle it tenderly. My other hand started at her neck, moving down and up her arm, taking her breast in one hand and squeezing it just hard enough that she would worry it might leave a bruise. My already painful hard on twitched when her unconscious body moaned slightly, and her face grimaced almost imperceptibly when I played with her nipple.

    Unable to hold myself back any longer, I parted her legs and began lavishing her pussy with my tongue. Her body shivered in my hands as I alternated between broad, flat licks against her sex and pushing my tongue as deep into her as it would go, relishing her taste.

    When I felt she was ready, I raised myself from between her legs and positioned the head of my cock at her entrance. I wondered briefly what mix of lust and trepidation Fiona was feeling, knowing that her first experience of sex as a man would be fucking her own unconscious body before pushing myself into her in a single motion.

    The force of my thrust drove the breath out of her body, and I felt her soulless pussy tighten around me as the head of my shaft nudged around her cervix. I stayed in that position for a moment, enjoying the sensation of being enveloped and the resistance of flesh against my hard cock.

    Eventually, I began to slowly withdraw myself from her, right up to the point where my head barely kept her lips apart before thrusting myself in again. I built up a slow, languid rhythm where I could really focus on and enjoy the sensation of my shaft sliding in and out of her. At the peak of every thrust, I tilted my hips so that I could feel the pressure on my tip where I was stretching her body to its limit.

    Fiona’s eyes remained closed, but it wasn’t long before she began to pant silently and a shining layer of sweat formed on her body. Changing to a different rhythm that relied more on hip grinding than thrusting, I leaned down and made out with her roughly, enjoying the lack of resistance as I pried open her mouth and suckled on her relaxed tongue.

    The knowledge that Fiona was helplessly forced to taste herself in more ways than one was such an overwhelming turn-on that I found myself rapidly rising to climax, and I had neither the time nor inclination to slow my pace, choosing instead to thrust one final time as deeply as I could before emptying myself into Fiona’s vacant shell.

    Feeling spent but satisfied, I lay on top of Fiona’s body while I caught my breath, eventually peeling myself off of her and chuckling at the sheen of sweat on both our skins. Without bothering to clean myself up, I leaned over to the control panel to adjust the timer.

    “Sorry for skipping class,” I said to myself. “But you can’t expect me to focus on my studies when I can stay home and experience this for the first time.”

    It sounded like a strange thing for me to say, but I dismissed the thought as I reduced the remaining transmission time to zero and ended the session.

    I shivered, suddenly keenly aware of the basement’s cool dampness against my wet skin, and I watched Fiona shudder back into consciousness.

    As she sat up and grinned at me, I realised the implications of what I had thoughtlessly said to myself only moments earlier.

    “Well,” I said. “Son of a bitch.”
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RT101 Supporter ∙ 01 Mar 2025

Thanks for the chapters! I really enjoyed the update

anon_30ebcc952867 ∙ 31 Mar 2025