Captured Reflections
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A magical mirror changes the lives of four friends.<br>
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A pair of bullies decide to mess with their victim by possessing his family! The first to be possessed is his mom.
Author's Note: Hello! I just wanted to say that this story is inspired by Ding! by MaddBlackCat on Literotica, I highly recommend you check it out!
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Gary
Finally. The last bell rang and we were all free to go home. I smiled as I left, happy this will be the last time I'd be seeing most of these faces except when I'll walk the stage in a few weeks. Until then, I don't need to think about that lousy place anymore. By the looks of it, I wasn't the only one who felt this way as I …
Author's Note: Hello! I just wanted to say that this story is inspired by Ding! by MaddBlackCat on Literotica, I highly recommend you check it out!
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Gary
Finally. The last bell rang and we were all free to go home. I smiled as I left, happy this will be the last time I'd be seeing most of these faces except when I'll walk the stage in a few weeks. Until then, I don't need to think about that lousy place anymore. By the looks of it, I wasn't the only one who felt this way as I …
It was common knowledge that Earth had eradicated the alien menace from the galaxy.
So imagine my surprise on learning that my friend from college was one of them.
I cannot stress enough just how ordinary my day had been before I found out. As ordinary - I had assumed - it had been for everyone else on the planet. And I guess in a way, it was still ordinary, just a different kind of ordinary.
There’s a girl I like to sit next to in college: We only see each other twice a week for the units we have in common, but we always sit together when we see each other. At the time, I had no idea what Stella saw in me, but she was astronomically cute and liked dress…
So imagine my surprise on learning that my friend from college was one of them.
I cannot stress enough just how ordinary my day had been before I found out. As ordinary - I had assumed - it had been for everyone else on the planet. And I guess in a way, it was still ordinary, just a different kind of ordinary.
There’s a girl I like to sit next to in college: We only see each other twice a week for the units we have in common, but we always sit together when we see each other. At the time, I had no idea what Stella saw in me, but she was astronomically cute and liked dress…
25 year old Jake Gardner finds himself turned into a purple slime after an accident. He soon realizes his new form can take over bodies, and uses his new ability to create a new life for himself.
The hospital room was quiet, the only sound the steady, soft beep of the heart monitor. Jake Gardner lay still in the narrow bed, his own body a strange and distant shell. He wasn’t in it anymore. His consciousness floated, untethered, in a small, quivering puddle of violet slime that had oozed from his own limp penis and now pooled on the crisp white sheets.
He’d been walking home from the bar, a little after two, when the sky had flashed purple. Something small and hot had slammed into the b…
The hospital room was quiet, the only sound the steady, soft beep of the heart monitor. Jake Gardner lay still in the narrow bed, his own body a strange and distant shell. He wasn’t in it anymore. His consciousness floated, untethered, in a small, quivering puddle of violet slime that had oozed from his own limp penis and now pooled on the crisp white sheets.
He’d been walking home from the bar, a little after two, when the sky had flashed purple. Something small and hot had slammed into the b…
The fortune teller offered to summon a spirit to possess me.
But I'm not in any real danger: It's only make-believe.
I can’t stop thinking about the tent, the fortune teller, and the overwhelming euphoria of surrendering my body to the spirit world. Not really, of course: none of it’s real. It’s only make-believe. But the thrill is very real.
Just the memory makes me itch. Am I addicted? Is this an addiction? It must be. From my cubicle, I look at the clock. I don’t know why: Even when the work day ends, I’m only going home. It’s not Friday. It’s not time to return. Not time for her to speak the words and pu…
But I'm not in any real danger: It's only make-believe.
I can’t stop thinking about the tent, the fortune teller, and the overwhelming euphoria of surrendering my body to the spirit world. Not really, of course: none of it’s real. It’s only make-believe. But the thrill is very real.
Just the memory makes me itch. Am I addicted? Is this an addiction? It must be. From my cubicle, I look at the clock. I don’t know why: Even when the work day ends, I’m only going home. It’s not Friday. It’s not time to return. Not time for her to speak the words and pu…
Cassandra
Female, 26 years old, of Korean descent. She is a doctoral candidate in philosophy in Country U. She possesses a deep interest in the natural environment, human society, ethics, and philosophical thought.
Cassandra begins having the same dream over and over again.There are no images in it—only sound. Countless faint noises: scraping, friction, gnawing—like billions of jointed limbs crawling through the darkness. And in that darkness, something within her—certain buried sexual desires and longings—are subtly, almost imperceptibly stirred.She clearly perceived certain caresses, certain intrusions, and even orgasms; it wasn't a dream. Because when she woke up, the afterglow of her orgasm hadn't faded, and she could still hear the sounds deep in her eardrums.
The sounds began in the silence.
Not a crescendo, but an infiltration—a soft, relentless scratching that seemed to originate not in the room around her, but inside the canals of her own ears. Cassandra lay perfectly still in the dark of her graduate housing apartment, the thin blanket a weightless shroud over her slender form. Her eyes were open, fixed on the ceiling’s vague shadows. She was awake. She had been awake for the last forty-seven minutes, according to the pale green numerals on the…
Female, 26 years old, of Korean descent. She is a doctoral candidate in philosophy in Country U. She possesses a deep interest in the natural environment, human society, ethics, and philosophical thought.
Cassandra begins having the same dream over and over again.There are no images in it—only sound. Countless faint noises: scraping, friction, gnawing—like billions of jointed limbs crawling through the darkness. And in that darkness, something within her—certain buried sexual desires and longings—are subtly, almost imperceptibly stirred.She clearly perceived certain caresses, certain intrusions, and even orgasms; it wasn't a dream. Because when she woke up, the afterglow of her orgasm hadn't faded, and she could still hear the sounds deep in her eardrums.
The sounds began in the silence.
Not a crescendo, but an infiltration—a soft, relentless scratching that seemed to originate not in the room around her, but inside the canals of her own ears. Cassandra lay perfectly still in the dark of her graduate housing apartment, the thin blanket a weightless shroud over her slender form. Her eyes were open, fixed on the ceiling’s vague shadows. She was awake. She had been awake for the last forty-seven minutes, according to the pale green numerals on the…
The story or novel is about a universe about two thousand years after. Its year 4125, where worlds has been occupied by humans and non humans and the technology is advance. The world Artanis(one of the coreworlds, lightyears away from Terran Earth), ruled by the benevolent house, the house Frendis, by Duke Arturus Frendis. The protagonist is the son of the Duke, Vernus Frendis, a young 19 year old man with androgynous features. The house Frendis was elected to be the next emperor of the coreworlds. But things went dark for the house Frendis when Arturus was assassinated and Artanis was invaded by House Laurien. Vernus escaped the wrath of the Lauriens with the help of Frendis most loyal agent, Marius.
The night was a black shroud, pulled tight over the world of Elara. No moons broke the cloud-cover; the only light came from the great fire pit at the heart of the Stone Circle. Around it, figures moved in a slow, silent dance. They were tall, unnaturally slender, their skin the color of bone under the bruised sky. Their ears, elongated and pointed, twitched at the crackle of the flames. They were the Lumin, the pale people of the twilight forests, and their faces were masks of hollow-cheeked s…
The night was a black shroud, pulled tight over the world of Elara. No moons broke the cloud-cover; the only light came from the great fire pit at the heart of the Stone Circle. Around it, figures moved in a slow, silent dance. They were tall, unnaturally slender, their skin the color of bone under the bruised sky. Their ears, elongated and pointed, twitched at the crackle of the flames. They were the Lumin, the pale people of the twilight forests, and their faces were masks of hollow-cheeked s…