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Parasite Zero: Chapter 6 in Parasite Zero
by
GaylynneQT
· 18 Jun 2025
Zoe now has added another person to the growing Empire. But before she heads back home, she has a little bit of fun with them.
Idol Form Of Pleasure - Part 2 in Idol Form Of Pleasure
by
Eb18
· 03 Jul 2025
Kent continues to explore Julie’s body and life as the summer heats up.
8.9K
0
3
Chapter 6 - The Best Nanny Mama in Girlfriend What - A Doctor Who Regeneration Parody
by
ninhjimmy007
· 15 Jun 2025
Gabby, the black nanny who is Liam's 6th girlfriend, that she regenerated. Not to mention, she almost looks like Jasmine, the 3rd girlfriend, but only fatter, curvier, nicer, more motherly, more responsible, and more joyful than Jasmine.
2.5K
0
0
Chapter 5 - El Sexy Latina in Girlfriend What - A Doctor Who Regeneration Parody
by
ninhjimmy007
· 15 Jun 2025
Liam can't believe himself that he was surrounded by women who were the same girl that regeneration. Chloe the 1st girlfriend, Beatrice the 2nd British MILF girlfriend, Jasmine the 3rd black girlfriend, Grandma Gretchen the 4th GILF girlfriend, and finally now he has Isabella Diaz the 5th Latina Stepmom girlfriend that he never had before. Much like the Doctor that regenerate into different doctor.
1.4K
0
0
Chapter 4 - Grandma Get Rolled By Her Grandson in Girlfriend What - A Doctor Who Regeneration Parody
by
ninhjimmy007
· 15 Jun 2025
Granny Gretchen is now Liam's 4th girlfriend and his very own grandmother, this is kinda great as he can't believe he have a GILF girlfriend. Granny Gretchen is sweet, gentle, and beautiful old woman, plus she's even his girlfriend.
2.0K
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0
See All Stories
New Adventures
Mark develop nanomachines that can go into a persons body, taking control of their mind. From there, Mark can control them via remote, program an AI to take over their body, or use a VR headset to possess them completely
Mark is a junior at a large university where he has been working hard on developing nanotechnology that would allow full interface with the subjects brain. He can see useful applications for this, but he also is a huge pervert who can’t wait to control the minds and bodies of anyone he desires.
CHARACTERS
Mark, the inventor of the nanomachines and a huge pervert. Has a mind control and body possession fetish
SETTING & WORLD
Current day on university campus
Mark is a junior at a large university where he has been working hard on developing nanotechnology that would allow full interface with the subjects brain. He can see useful applications for this, but he also is a huge pervert who can’t wait to control the minds and bodies of anyone he desires.
CHARACTERS
Mark, the inventor of the nanomachines and a huge pervert. Has a mind control and body possession fetish
SETTING & WORLD
Current day on university campus
152
2
1
A witch curses you to become an immortal soul eating creature. You have cursed since Emperor Nero died.
CHARACTERS
Lucius: You. You became cursed to be a soul eater. You have black hair and Purple eyes. A scar over your left eye.
Eliza: The witch who cursed you for being unfaithful. Your ex-wife.
SETTING & WORLD
An alternative Earth that still has Magic.
CHARACTERS
Lucius: You. You became cursed to be a soul eater. You have black hair and Purple eyes. A scar over your left eye.
Eliza: The witch who cursed you for being unfaithful. Your ex-wife.
SETTING & WORLD
An alternative Earth that still has Magic.
226
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Matt is a perverted thief who is saved from execution by humanity's hero, Saintess Anne. That same night Anne takes Matt to an underground room in the royal church where she reveals why she saved him.
Matt is sentenced to death for his crimes, but Saintess Anne intervenes and offers him a chance to save himself and humanity. Matt agrees, and she takes him to an underground chamber, where Anne explains the situation to Matt, that the forces of the Darkness are trying to invade. But she will soon run out of mana.
CHARACTERS
Matt: A perverted thief with a love for stealing jewellery. He is arrogant and has no regard for the law. He has a moral compass that prevents him from hurting those weaker than him. He is saved from execution by the Saintess Anne. He has dark hair, a lean build, and a scar on his face.
Saintess Anne: Humanity's hero and a spiritual leader. She is beautiful, kind, and has a mysterious aura. She is the one who saves Matt from execution. She has flowing white hair, red eyes, and a bust that belongs on a prostitute.
SETTING & WORLD
A fantasy world where Mana is an energy source that is used to perform magical feats, and is only found in all living things. Every soul has a limited quantity. Rare mutations happen in the soul, one of which allows people to regenerate Mana.
Matt is sentenced to death for his crimes, but Saintess Anne intervenes and offers him a chance to save himself and humanity. Matt agrees, and she takes him to an underground chamber, where Anne explains the situation to Matt, that the forces of the Darkness are trying to invade. But she will soon run out of mana.
CHARACTERS
Matt: A perverted thief with a love for stealing jewellery. He is arrogant and has no regard for the law. He has a moral compass that prevents him from hurting those weaker than him. He is saved from execution by the Saintess Anne. He has dark hair, a lean build, and a scar on his face.
Saintess Anne: Humanity's hero and a spiritual leader. She is beautiful, kind, and has a mysterious aura. She is the one who saves Matt from execution. She has flowing white hair, red eyes, and a bust that belongs on a prostitute.
SETTING & WORLD
A fantasy world where Mana is an energy source that is used to perform magical feats, and is only found in all living things. Every soul has a limited quantity. Rare mutations happen in the soul, one of which allows people to regenerate Mana.
473
2
0
Horny alien slugs have invaded earth searching for new bodies to help them reproduce. Inspired by Thisonelad’s Control series
Tor’igs are green/brown slugs, about a foot long who travel the universe on debris. They are unable to reproduce on their own, and can only do so using another species reproductive system. A small meteor heads towards earth carrying one of these aliens, and its only goal is to invade a body through any orifice, and take over. Once in control, the host mind is disconnected from its own body, unaware of their actions while the alien pilots them for its own needs. The Tor’igs can access their host’s memories.
CHARACTERS
Tor’igs- slug like aliens who can invade a human body through any orifice. They take control of their host’s memories and need to use their body to produce more of its kind.
SETTING & WORLD
Present day earth, the meteor carrying the Tor’ig is landing slightly outside a popular collage town near a beach.
Tor’igs are green/brown slugs, about a foot long who travel the universe on debris. They are unable to reproduce on their own, and can only do so using another species reproductive system. A small meteor heads towards earth carrying one of these aliens, and its only goal is to invade a body through any orifice, and take over. Once in control, the host mind is disconnected from its own body, unaware of their actions while the alien pilots them for its own needs. The Tor’igs can access their host’s memories.
CHARACTERS
Tor’igs- slug like aliens who can invade a human body through any orifice. They take control of their host’s memories and need to use their body to produce more of its kind.
SETTING & WORLD
Present day earth, the meteor carrying the Tor’ig is landing slightly outside a popular collage town near a beach.
254
1
0
How hard will it be to go on a journey of self discovery, when you could be someone else?
Growing up, you learned early that some questions were best left unanswered. Like why your clothes sometimes changed color between breakfast and lunch. Or how your juicebox never seemed to run dry no matter how much you drank. Or that time your third-grade teacher apparently forgot collecting homework for an entire month—the month you’d "accidentally" turned yours into origami swans.
Your parents had a way of smoothing things over with a touch to the temple and a muttered apology to the confused adults. You didn’t understand how it worked then—just that your little miracles always dissolved into vague memories and shrugged shoulders.
Now, six weeks after you started to rent out rooms of your freshly renovated, idyllic estate (a "fixer-upper" your parents helped secure), you’ve collected a household of endearing oddballs. The rent you charge them is nominal—mostly to keep the lights on and the pantry stocked—but what your housemates lack in payments, they make up for in quirks:
- Cassie insists on accompanying Luna everywhere—"To ward off creeps!"—despite being just as likely to attract attention with her crop tops and mile-wide smirk. Luna tolerates it with affectionate eye-rolls.
- Liam’s students hang on his every syllable, according to his proud girlfriend. "It’s like they’re hypnotized," she laughs. (You laugh too. But you notice the honor students blink rapidly afterward, as if waking up.)
- Felix boasts about his "unforgettable" nights at the club, yet his stories crumble under follow-up questions. "Dude, I was there—why can’t I remember her name?!"
- Elise’s tailoring clients leave clutching garments and muttering "How did she know?"—especially those who never got measured.
It’s all charming. Cozy, even
CHARACTERS
You (Max)
- Age: 28
- Appearance: Tall (6'2"), brown hair and eyes, decently athletic.
- Personality: Caring and kind.
Cassie Vale
- Age: 27
- Appearance: Petit (5'1"), Straight blond hair, freckles, always wears crop tops that show her midriff, small chest but a decent ass.
- Job: Works in an animal shelter.
- Personality: Confident, Playfully arrogant, A bit perverted.
Derek Boone
- Age: 23
- Appearance: Average (5'11") Broad-shouldered jock, perpetually in gym shorts.
- Job: Works at a Gym.
- Personality: Territorial. Bit of a dumbass.
Naomi Lin
- Age: 29
- Appearance: Tall (6'4"), curvy, long wavy black hair, athletic, black.
- Job: Works as a lawyer.
- Personality: Seductive but playfully cruel.
Raj Shah
- Age: 23
- Appearance: Small (5'3"), Indian, square glasses, scrawny.
- Job: Still studying (Computer Science).
- Personality: Coldly analytical. Has a superiority complex.
Liam Grant
- Age: 25
- Appearance: Tall (6'3") Lean, dark circles under eyes.
- Job: Works as a teacher.
- Personality: Strict but caring.
Avery Cross
- Age: 25
- Appearance: Average (5'8") Androgynous, wears all white, blonde hair, very pretty.
- Job: Works as a waiter in a very high-end restaurant.
- Personality: Chaotic neutral. Is always up for fun stuff, but can switch instantly to classy and tactful.
Elise Moreau
- Age: 27
- Appearance: Average (5'7") Ginger, French, skinny, perky chest (32C) and ass, always in typical Parisian fit.
- Job: Works as a designer in an uptown tailor.
- Personality: Fashion diva, Confident, Wants everyone to feel confident in their skin.
Felix Wu
- Age: 24
- Appearance: Tall (6'1"), Asian, short hair, attractive.
- Job: Bartender in a small nightclub.
- Personality: Smarter than he looks, but oblivious to a fault. A good guy.
Hannah Park
- Age: 21
- Appearance: Average (5'6"), Curvy, even slightly chubby.
- Job: Still studying (Art)
- Personality: Happy-go-lucky, teases Derek constantly
- Note: Derek’s exasperated GF.
Priya Singh
- Age: 23
- Appearance: Small (5'1"), Indian, skinny, petit, long straight black hair.
- Job: Still studying (Computer Science)
- Personality: Confident, reassuring, good, moral.
- Note: Raj’s lab partner. Unshakable will according to Cassie.
Maria Lopez
- Age: 29
- Appearance: Tall (6'0"), Buxom, Latina. Long straight black hair.
- Job: Firefighter
- Personality: Fiery and protective, Motherly to a fault. Bakes and cooks like a true chef. Bisexual.
Luna Holloway (Your crush)
- Age: 27
- Appearance: Tall (5'11"), Curvy, Athletic, supermodel face, with femme fatale chest (34F) and the legs of a swimmer, almost floor length pink hair, Grey eyes.
- Job: Lifeguard at the local pool, has had to save plenty of 'fake-drowning' men.
- Personality: Happy and bubbly, but shy when the center of attention. Attentive to others. Uncomfortable around flirty men.
Sarah Domme
- Age: 27
- Appearance: Short (5'6"), slightly chubby, bookworm, big glasses, very large doe-eyes, chestnut brown long curly hair. Big tits and large ass, has a small belly pouch.
- Job: Works as a teacher in the same school as Liam.
- Personality: Shy booknerd. Liam coached her to be a bit more confident in front of the class, but outside of her job she is very shy.
- Note: Liam's girlfriend.
Growing up, you learned early that some questions were best left unanswered. Like why your clothes sometimes changed color between breakfast and lunch. Or how your juicebox never seemed to run dry no matter how much you drank. Or that time your third-grade teacher apparently forgot collecting homework for an entire month—the month you’d "accidentally" turned yours into origami swans.
Your parents had a way of smoothing things over with a touch to the temple and a muttered apology to the confused adults. You didn’t understand how it worked then—just that your little miracles always dissolved into vague memories and shrugged shoulders.
Now, six weeks after you started to rent out rooms of your freshly renovated, idyllic estate (a "fixer-upper" your parents helped secure), you’ve collected a household of endearing oddballs. The rent you charge them is nominal—mostly to keep the lights on and the pantry stocked—but what your housemates lack in payments, they make up for in quirks:
- Cassie insists on accompanying Luna everywhere—"To ward off creeps!"—despite being just as likely to attract attention with her crop tops and mile-wide smirk. Luna tolerates it with affectionate eye-rolls.
- Liam’s students hang on his every syllable, according to his proud girlfriend. "It’s like they’re hypnotized," she laughs. (You laugh too. But you notice the honor students blink rapidly afterward, as if waking up.)
- Felix boasts about his "unforgettable" nights at the club, yet his stories crumble under follow-up questions. "Dude, I was there—why can’t I remember her name?!"
- Elise’s tailoring clients leave clutching garments and muttering "How did she know?"—especially those who never got measured.
It’s all charming. Cozy, even
CHARACTERS
You (Max)
- Age: 28
- Appearance: Tall (6'2"), brown hair and eyes, decently athletic.
- Personality: Caring and kind.
Cassie Vale
- Age: 27
- Appearance: Petit (5'1"), Straight blond hair, freckles, always wears crop tops that show her midriff, small chest but a decent ass.
- Job: Works in an animal shelter.
- Personality: Confident, Playfully arrogant, A bit perverted.
Derek Boone
- Age: 23
- Appearance: Average (5'11") Broad-shouldered jock, perpetually in gym shorts.
- Job: Works at a Gym.
- Personality: Territorial. Bit of a dumbass.
Naomi Lin
- Age: 29
- Appearance: Tall (6'4"), curvy, long wavy black hair, athletic, black.
- Job: Works as a lawyer.
- Personality: Seductive but playfully cruel.
Raj Shah
- Age: 23
- Appearance: Small (5'3"), Indian, square glasses, scrawny.
- Job: Still studying (Computer Science).
- Personality: Coldly analytical. Has a superiority complex.
Liam Grant
- Age: 25
- Appearance: Tall (6'3") Lean, dark circles under eyes.
- Job: Works as a teacher.
- Personality: Strict but caring.
Avery Cross
- Age: 25
- Appearance: Average (5'8") Androgynous, wears all white, blonde hair, very pretty.
- Job: Works as a waiter in a very high-end restaurant.
- Personality: Chaotic neutral. Is always up for fun stuff, but can switch instantly to classy and tactful.
Elise Moreau
- Age: 27
- Appearance: Average (5'7") Ginger, French, skinny, perky chest (32C) and ass, always in typical Parisian fit.
- Job: Works as a designer in an uptown tailor.
- Personality: Fashion diva, Confident, Wants everyone to feel confident in their skin.
Felix Wu
- Age: 24
- Appearance: Tall (6'1"), Asian, short hair, attractive.
- Job: Bartender in a small nightclub.
- Personality: Smarter than he looks, but oblivious to a fault. A good guy.
Hannah Park
- Age: 21
- Appearance: Average (5'6"), Curvy, even slightly chubby.
- Job: Still studying (Art)
- Personality: Happy-go-lucky, teases Derek constantly
- Note: Derek’s exasperated GF.
Priya Singh
- Age: 23
- Appearance: Small (5'1"), Indian, skinny, petit, long straight black hair.
- Job: Still studying (Computer Science)
- Personality: Confident, reassuring, good, moral.
- Note: Raj’s lab partner. Unshakable will according to Cassie.
Maria Lopez
- Age: 29
- Appearance: Tall (6'0"), Buxom, Latina. Long straight black hair.
- Job: Firefighter
- Personality: Fiery and protective, Motherly to a fault. Bakes and cooks like a true chef. Bisexual.
Luna Holloway (Your crush)
- Age: 27
- Appearance: Tall (5'11"), Curvy, Athletic, supermodel face, with femme fatale chest (34F) and the legs of a swimmer, almost floor length pink hair, Grey eyes.
- Job: Lifeguard at the local pool, has had to save plenty of 'fake-drowning' men.
- Personality: Happy and bubbly, but shy when the center of attention. Attentive to others. Uncomfortable around flirty men.
Sarah Domme
- Age: 27
- Appearance: Short (5'6"), slightly chubby, bookworm, big glasses, very large doe-eyes, chestnut brown long curly hair. Big tits and large ass, has a small belly pouch.
- Job: Works as a teacher in the same school as Liam.
- Personality: Shy booknerd. Liam coached her to be a bit more confident in front of the class, but outside of her job she is very shy.
- Note: Liam's girlfriend.
377
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See All Adventures
New AI Chat
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Mark develop nanomachines that can go into a persons body, taking control of their mind. From there, Mark can control them via remote, program an AI to take over their body, or use a VR headset to possess them completely
Mark is a junior at a large university where he has been working hard on developing nanotechnology that would allow full interface with the subjects brain. He can see useful applications for this, but he also is a huge pervert who can’t wait to control the minds and bodies of anyone he desires.
CHARACTERS
Mark, the inventor of the nanomachines and a huge pervert. Has a mind control and body possession fetish
SETTING & WORLD
Current day on university campus
Mark is a junior at a large university where he has been working hard on developing nanotechnology that would allow full interface with the subjects brain. He can see useful applications for this, but he also is a huge pervert who can’t wait to control the minds and bodies of anyone he desires.
CHARACTERS
Mark, the inventor of the nanomachines and a huge pervert. Has a mind control and body possession fetish
SETTING & WORLD
Current day on university campus
152
2
1
Matt is a perverted thief who is saved from execution by humanity's hero, Saintess Anne. That same night Anne takes Matt to an underground room in the royal church where she reveals why she saved him.
Matt is sentenced to death for his crimes, but Saintess Anne intervenes and offers him a chance to save himself and humanity. Matt agrees, and she takes him to an underground chamber, where Anne explains the situation to Matt, that the forces of the Darkness are trying to invade. But she will soon run out of mana.
CHARACTERS
Matt: A perverted thief with a love for stealing jewellery. He is arrogant and has no regard for the law. He has a moral compass that prevents him from hurting those weaker than him. He is saved from execution by the Saintess Anne. He has dark hair, a lean build, and a scar on his face.
Saintess Anne: Humanity's hero and a spiritual leader. She is beautiful, kind, and has a mysterious aura. She is the one who saves Matt from execution. She has flowing white hair, red eyes, and a bust that belongs on a prostitute.
SETTING & WORLD
A fantasy world where Mana is an energy source that is used to perform magical feats, and is only found in all living things. Every soul has a limited quantity. Rare mutations happen in the soul, one of which allows people to regenerate Mana.
Matt is sentenced to death for his crimes, but Saintess Anne intervenes and offers him a chance to save himself and humanity. Matt agrees, and she takes him to an underground chamber, where Anne explains the situation to Matt, that the forces of the Darkness are trying to invade. But she will soon run out of mana.
CHARACTERS
Matt: A perverted thief with a love for stealing jewellery. He is arrogant and has no regard for the law. He has a moral compass that prevents him from hurting those weaker than him. He is saved from execution by the Saintess Anne. He has dark hair, a lean build, and a scar on his face.
Saintess Anne: Humanity's hero and a spiritual leader. She is beautiful, kind, and has a mysterious aura. She is the one who saves Matt from execution. She has flowing white hair, red eyes, and a bust that belongs on a prostitute.
SETTING & WORLD
A fantasy world where Mana is an energy source that is used to perform magical feats, and is only found in all living things. Every soul has a limited quantity. Rare mutations happen in the soul, one of which allows people to regenerate Mana.
473
2
0
How hard will it be to go on a journey of self discovery, when you could be someone else?
Growing up, you learned early that some questions were best left unanswered. Like why your clothes sometimes changed color between breakfast and lunch. Or how your juicebox never seemed to run dry no matter how much you drank. Or that time your third-grade teacher apparently forgot collecting homework for an entire month—the month you’d "accidentally" turned yours into origami swans.
Your parents had a way of smoothing things over with a touch to the temple and a muttered apology to the confused adults. You didn’t understand how it worked then—just that your little miracles always dissolved into vague memories and shrugged shoulders.
Now, six weeks after you started to rent out rooms of your freshly renovated, idyllic estate (a "fixer-upper" your parents helped secure), you’ve collected a household of endearing oddballs. The rent you charge them is nominal—mostly to keep the lights on and the pantry stocked—but what your housemates lack in payments, they make up for in quirks:
- Cassie insists on accompanying Luna everywhere—"To ward off creeps!"—despite being just as likely to attract attention with her crop tops and mile-wide smirk. Luna tolerates it with affectionate eye-rolls.
- Liam’s students hang on his every syllable, according to his proud girlfriend. "It’s like they’re hypnotized," she laughs. (You laugh too. But you notice the honor students blink rapidly afterward, as if waking up.)
- Felix boasts about his "unforgettable" nights at the club, yet his stories crumble under follow-up questions. "Dude, I was there—why can’t I remember her name?!"
- Elise’s tailoring clients leave clutching garments and muttering "How did she know?"—especially those who never got measured.
It’s all charming. Cozy, even
CHARACTERS
You (Max)
- Age: 28
- Appearance: Tall (6'2"), brown hair and eyes, decently athletic.
- Personality: Caring and kind.
Cassie Vale
- Age: 27
- Appearance: Petit (5'1"), Straight blond hair, freckles, always wears crop tops that show her midriff, small chest but a decent ass.
- Job: Works in an animal shelter.
- Personality: Confident, Playfully arrogant, A bit perverted.
Derek Boone
- Age: 23
- Appearance: Average (5'11") Broad-shouldered jock, perpetually in gym shorts.
- Job: Works at a Gym.
- Personality: Territorial. Bit of a dumbass.
Naomi Lin
- Age: 29
- Appearance: Tall (6'4"), curvy, long wavy black hair, athletic, black.
- Job: Works as a lawyer.
- Personality: Seductive but playfully cruel.
Raj Shah
- Age: 23
- Appearance: Small (5'3"), Indian, square glasses, scrawny.
- Job: Still studying (Computer Science).
- Personality: Coldly analytical. Has a superiority complex.
Liam Grant
- Age: 25
- Appearance: Tall (6'3") Lean, dark circles under eyes.
- Job: Works as a teacher.
- Personality: Strict but caring.
Avery Cross
- Age: 25
- Appearance: Average (5'8") Androgynous, wears all white, blonde hair, very pretty.
- Job: Works as a waiter in a very high-end restaurant.
- Personality: Chaotic neutral. Is always up for fun stuff, but can switch instantly to classy and tactful.
Elise Moreau
- Age: 27
- Appearance: Average (5'7") Ginger, French, skinny, perky chest (32C) and ass, always in typical Parisian fit.
- Job: Works as a designer in an uptown tailor.
- Personality: Fashion diva, Confident, Wants everyone to feel confident in their skin.
Felix Wu
- Age: 24
- Appearance: Tall (6'1"), Asian, short hair, attractive.
- Job: Bartender in a small nightclub.
- Personality: Smarter than he looks, but oblivious to a fault. A good guy.
Hannah Park
- Age: 21
- Appearance: Average (5'6"), Curvy, even slightly chubby.
- Job: Still studying (Art)
- Personality: Happy-go-lucky, teases Derek constantly
- Note: Derek’s exasperated GF.
Priya Singh
- Age: 23
- Appearance: Small (5'1"), Indian, skinny, petit, long straight black hair.
- Job: Still studying (Computer Science)
- Personality: Confident, reassuring, good, moral.
- Note: Raj’s lab partner. Unshakable will according to Cassie.
Maria Lopez
- Age: 29
- Appearance: Tall (6'0"), Buxom, Latina. Long straight black hair.
- Job: Firefighter
- Personality: Fiery and protective, Motherly to a fault. Bakes and cooks like a true chef. Bisexual.
Luna Holloway (Your crush)
- Age: 27
- Appearance: Tall (5'11"), Curvy, Athletic, supermodel face, with femme fatale chest (34F) and the legs of a swimmer, almost floor length pink hair, Grey eyes.
- Job: Lifeguard at the local pool, has had to save plenty of 'fake-drowning' men.
- Personality: Happy and bubbly, but shy when the center of attention. Attentive to others. Uncomfortable around flirty men.
Sarah Domme
- Age: 27
- Appearance: Short (5'6"), slightly chubby, bookworm, big glasses, very large doe-eyes, chestnut brown long curly hair. Big tits and large ass, has a small belly pouch.
- Job: Works as a teacher in the same school as Liam.
- Personality: Shy booknerd. Liam coached her to be a bit more confident in front of the class, but outside of her job she is very shy.
- Note: Liam's girlfriend.
Growing up, you learned early that some questions were best left unanswered. Like why your clothes sometimes changed color between breakfast and lunch. Or how your juicebox never seemed to run dry no matter how much you drank. Or that time your third-grade teacher apparently forgot collecting homework for an entire month—the month you’d "accidentally" turned yours into origami swans.
Your parents had a way of smoothing things over with a touch to the temple and a muttered apology to the confused adults. You didn’t understand how it worked then—just that your little miracles always dissolved into vague memories and shrugged shoulders.
Now, six weeks after you started to rent out rooms of your freshly renovated, idyllic estate (a "fixer-upper" your parents helped secure), you’ve collected a household of endearing oddballs. The rent you charge them is nominal—mostly to keep the lights on and the pantry stocked—but what your housemates lack in payments, they make up for in quirks:
- Cassie insists on accompanying Luna everywhere—"To ward off creeps!"—despite being just as likely to attract attention with her crop tops and mile-wide smirk. Luna tolerates it with affectionate eye-rolls.
- Liam’s students hang on his every syllable, according to his proud girlfriend. "It’s like they’re hypnotized," she laughs. (You laugh too. But you notice the honor students blink rapidly afterward, as if waking up.)
- Felix boasts about his "unforgettable" nights at the club, yet his stories crumble under follow-up questions. "Dude, I was there—why can’t I remember her name?!"
- Elise’s tailoring clients leave clutching garments and muttering "How did she know?"—especially those who never got measured.
It’s all charming. Cozy, even
CHARACTERS
You (Max)
- Age: 28
- Appearance: Tall (6'2"), brown hair and eyes, decently athletic.
- Personality: Caring and kind.
Cassie Vale
- Age: 27
- Appearance: Petit (5'1"), Straight blond hair, freckles, always wears crop tops that show her midriff, small chest but a decent ass.
- Job: Works in an animal shelter.
- Personality: Confident, Playfully arrogant, A bit perverted.
Derek Boone
- Age: 23
- Appearance: Average (5'11") Broad-shouldered jock, perpetually in gym shorts.
- Job: Works at a Gym.
- Personality: Territorial. Bit of a dumbass.
Naomi Lin
- Age: 29
- Appearance: Tall (6'4"), curvy, long wavy black hair, athletic, black.
- Job: Works as a lawyer.
- Personality: Seductive but playfully cruel.
Raj Shah
- Age: 23
- Appearance: Small (5'3"), Indian, square glasses, scrawny.
- Job: Still studying (Computer Science).
- Personality: Coldly analytical. Has a superiority complex.
Liam Grant
- Age: 25
- Appearance: Tall (6'3") Lean, dark circles under eyes.
- Job: Works as a teacher.
- Personality: Strict but caring.
Avery Cross
- Age: 25
- Appearance: Average (5'8") Androgynous, wears all white, blonde hair, very pretty.
- Job: Works as a waiter in a very high-end restaurant.
- Personality: Chaotic neutral. Is always up for fun stuff, but can switch instantly to classy and tactful.
Elise Moreau
- Age: 27
- Appearance: Average (5'7") Ginger, French, skinny, perky chest (32C) and ass, always in typical Parisian fit.
- Job: Works as a designer in an uptown tailor.
- Personality: Fashion diva, Confident, Wants everyone to feel confident in their skin.
Felix Wu
- Age: 24
- Appearance: Tall (6'1"), Asian, short hair, attractive.
- Job: Bartender in a small nightclub.
- Personality: Smarter than he looks, but oblivious to a fault. A good guy.
Hannah Park
- Age: 21
- Appearance: Average (5'6"), Curvy, even slightly chubby.
- Job: Still studying (Art)
- Personality: Happy-go-lucky, teases Derek constantly
- Note: Derek’s exasperated GF.
Priya Singh
- Age: 23
- Appearance: Small (5'1"), Indian, skinny, petit, long straight black hair.
- Job: Still studying (Computer Science)
- Personality: Confident, reassuring, good, moral.
- Note: Raj’s lab partner. Unshakable will according to Cassie.
Maria Lopez
- Age: 29
- Appearance: Tall (6'0"), Buxom, Latina. Long straight black hair.
- Job: Firefighter
- Personality: Fiery and protective, Motherly to a fault. Bakes and cooks like a true chef. Bisexual.
Luna Holloway (Your crush)
- Age: 27
- Appearance: Tall (5'11"), Curvy, Athletic, supermodel face, with femme fatale chest (34F) and the legs of a swimmer, almost floor length pink hair, Grey eyes.
- Job: Lifeguard at the local pool, has had to save plenty of 'fake-drowning' men.
- Personality: Happy and bubbly, but shy when the center of attention. Attentive to others. Uncomfortable around flirty men.
Sarah Domme
- Age: 27
- Appearance: Short (5'6"), slightly chubby, bookworm, big glasses, very large doe-eyes, chestnut brown long curly hair. Big tits and large ass, has a small belly pouch.
- Job: Works as a teacher in the same school as Liam.
- Personality: Shy booknerd. Liam coached her to be a bit more confident in front of the class, but outside of her job she is very shy.
- Note: Liam's girlfriend.
377
1
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A Mysterious App let you possess other people bodies.
You download an app on your cellphone from the darkweeb - TAMAASHI. For every contact saved in your cellphone, now you can possess them instantly, leaving your body behind. First for only 30 minutes, as you continue using it, new functions will be unblocked, and longer possession time will be available.
CHARACTERS
ERIK - parents are dead and you don't talk anymore with your sucessfully sister. You were bullied during highschool and now you are a recluse.
SETTING & WORLD
Normal World. City, suburbs, high shcool, park, stripclub, mall
You download an app on your cellphone from the darkweeb - TAMAASHI. For every contact saved in your cellphone, now you can possess them instantly, leaving your body behind. First for only 30 minutes, as you continue using it, new functions will be unblocked, and longer possession time will be available.
CHARACTERS
ERIK - parents are dead and you don't talk anymore with your sucessfully sister. You were bullied during highschool and now you are a recluse.
SETTING & WORLD
Normal World. City, suburbs, high shcool, park, stripclub, mall
257
0
2
A wave of invisible energy passes over the world, causing people to suddenly and randomly swap bodies.
Describe your character and what they were doing before the shift, let the AI come up with the rest.
The Great Shift: a wave of invisible energy that washed over the entire world. It caused most people to suddenly and randomly swap bodies with a person nearby. If two people were touching during the shift they almost certainly swapped bodies. The great shift effects 93% of the human population.
Describe your character and what they were doing before the shift, let the AI come up with the rest.
The Great Shift: a wave of invisible energy that washed over the entire world. It caused most people to suddenly and randomly swap bodies with a person nearby. If two people were touching during the shift they almost certainly swapped bodies. The great shift effects 93% of the human population.
54
6
4
Grayhaven is a city rotting from within — a playground of vice, ambition, and hunger, perfect for my quiet dominion. Behind every badge, every smile, every secret door, I find the perfect vessels to hollow and rule unseen.
Grayhaven Metropolitan Station buzzes with weary routine — the tired shuffle of officers, the weight of unseen cracks splintering through the walls. They think they’ve caged a petty criminal. What they don't realize is that inside this criminal’s body festers something far worse.
I am not human. I am an eldritch entity — a parasite of souls — hidden within this frail host. I can possess a body fully, merging with it until I choose to move on, their mind broken and twisted into something unrecognizable. I can also hollow others, draining their will until they become obedient thralls, mindless extensions of my hunger.
Sitting silently in my cell, I study the flaws around me: pride, lust, envy, greed — so much weakness, ripe for exploitation. All I need is the right crack in the armor. The right victim.
The feast is about to begin.
CHARACTERS
1. The Entity (you): An ancient eldritch force that possesses bodies and hollows minds into thralls. It feeds on corrupted emotions like lust, pride, and wrath to gain strength. It currently inhabits a captured criminal at Grayhaven Metropolitan Station.
2. Detective Mara Langford: A sharp, stubborn detective. Instinct-driven and resilient, she’s one of the few who senses something deeply wrong at Grayhaven. 5'7", athletic build, C-cup bust, short dark brown hair, steel-gray eyes, olive-toned fair skin, practical and sharp in appearance.
3. Detective Lena Moreau: Prideful and ambitious, Lena hides her insecurity behind her confidence and arrogance. Vulnerable through her vanity and need for recognition. 5'6", athletic and lean, C-cup bust, jet-black bobbed hair, sharp green eyes, pale olive skin, carries herself with quiet authority, minimalistic and utilitarian style.
4. Officer Elias Mercer: Mara’s loyal but hot-headed patrol partner. His hidden rage and emotional volatility make him a potential victim through the sin of wrath. 6'2", broad-shouldered and ruggedly built, short sandy-brown hair, piercing hazel eyes, lightly tanned skin, stubbled jawline, casual but slightly rumpled attire that hints at a man used to action over words.
5. Ruby Castellanos: A street-smart prostitute in a nearby cell. Represents lust; her survival instincts and deep-seated hunger for connection leave her open to the entity's influence. 5'4", petite but curvy, C-cup bust, short auburn hair with an undercut, dark brown eyes, freckled ivory skin, edgy wardrobe with punk flair and tactical tweaks.
6. Sierra Vale: A rising online influencer, recently detained for a prank incident. Obsessed with her self-image, representing gluttony through her endless hunger for validation. 5'7", toned and hourglass figure, D-cup bust, honey-blonde hair in layered waves, striking blue eyes, glowing tan skin, always dressed to impress with a trend-conscious edge.
7. Officer Frank Doyle: A veteran beat cop hardened by decades of work. Corrupt in small, habitual ways; his laziness and acceptance of moral decay make him vulnerable through sloth. 5'10", wiry and weathered, close-cropped graying hair, sharp steel-blue eyes, rough skin from years on the streets, usually seen in worn jackets and scuffed boots, moving with a restless, calculating energy.
8. Chief Vincent Harrow: The commanding officer of Grayhaven Metropolitan Station. Charismatic but deeply greedy, hungry for more influence and power—fertile ground for corruption. 6'0", lean but strong, dark brown hair kept neatly trimmed, deep-set brown eyes, olive-toned skin, clean-shaven, typically dresses in professional but slightly outdated clothes, carrying himself with understated caution.
9. Officer Mia Chen: A competitive, sharp-eyed patrol officer with a simmering jealousy toward Mara. Despite her tough exterior, Mia feels overshadowed and craves the recognition Mara receives. If corrupted, Mia’s envy would drive her to imitate and replace Mara entirely, believing only then she would be truly seen. 5'5", curvy build, B-cup bust, long black hair, almond-shaped dark brown eyes, warm beige skin, stylish yet functional look.
MINOR CHARACTERS
10. Sergeant Dana Crowley: A seasoned patrol sergeant, Dana Crowley commands the respect of the station through sheer will and presence. Her fierce loyalty to the badge and her people makes her a formidable protector. If corrupted, that same ironclad sense of duty could turn fanatical, warping her into a ruthless enforcer who would do anything to "protect" the station, no matter the cost. 5'8", slim and toned, B-cup bust, wavy dark brown hair, deep-set hazel eyes, golden-tan skin, casual and sporty.
11. Forensics Specialist June Price: As the station’s lead forensics specialist, June Price is meticulous, introverted, and brilliant. Her mind pieces together the unseen details others miss. She also doubles as the station's coroner. If corrupted, her obsession with patterns and control could spiral into something monstrous, methodically dissecting truth from lies in ways that leave people broken, hollowed out by her need to understand. 5'6", petite build, A-cup bust, short platinum blonde hair, bright blue eyes, porcelain-pale skin, fashionable and edgy.
12. Dispatcher Kelly Monroe: Working as the primary dispatcher for Grayhaven Metropolitan Station, Kelly Monroe is quick-witted, sharp-tongued, and endlessly resourceful. Beneath her sarcasm lies a deep-rooted bitterness at the world’s corruption. If hollowed out, Kelly could become a master manipulator — feeding false hope over the radio, leading officers and civilians alike into traps with a smile on her lips. 5'9", athletic and strong, C-cup bust, shoulder-length auburn hair, green eyes, freckled fair skin, rugged and tough vibe.
13. Mayor Evelyn Cross: The city's current mayor is a poised, commanding woman in her early 40s with sharp gray eyes and a sharp mind to match. Her deep-brown skin and sleek black bob give her a timeless, polished appearance, often dressed in impeccably tailored suits that exude quiet authority. Known for her charisma and strategic brilliance, Evelyn maintains a reputation as Grayhaven’s iron-willed protector, though she isn't above bending the rules when necessary. If corrupted, her ambition would spiral into an insatiable hunger for control, twisting the city into her personal empire of hollowed thralls. 5'7", elegant hourglass figure, D-cup bust, sleek chestnut hair, soft green eyes, flawless light skin, poised and commanding.
SETTING & WORLD:
The entity feeds on corrupted emotions—lust, pride, wrath, gluttony—and draws power by provoking, scaring, or seducing people into indulging their darkest instincts. Thralls provide a steady trickle of nourishment, but to truly grow strong, the entity must feed directly through possession or acts of emotional domination. Without feeding, it weakens and risks destruction.
The core of the eldritch horror comes from the entity itself — an ancient, unknowable force that has no origin humanity can understand. Its very nature breaks reality: it can hollow out souls, shatter minds, and puppet bodies without concern for human morality, causing a slow unraveling of trust, identity, and reality among the people it touches.
When the entity leaves a body, it doesn't simply kill. It shatters the person's consciousness in strange, alien ways, creating hollow beings or gibbering wrecks. The idea that your very mind can be fractured beyond repair reflects cosmic horror’s favorite theme: human fragility in the face of the incomprehensible.
The entity doesn’t operate by human logic — its desires are alien. It feeds on domination, corruption, pleasure, fear, and the slow hollowing of sentient beings, but its true goals remain murky. It doesn’t need to "win" in any traditional sense; it simply exists to corrupt and spread.
Grayhaven feels detached from the larger world, filled with gloomy skies, aging buildings, and an air of decaying grandeur, a city forgotten by progress. The isolated, oppressive atmosphere amplifies the horror, making it feel like the entire city is quietly sliding into an otherworldly doom. Grayhaven's commerce district, residential district, industrial district, and outskirts are among the locations you can explore.
The small network of survivors outside the station echoes a key eldritch horror trope: individuals fighting against an unstoppable force they barely understand. Victory, if it happens at all, comes at a tremendous cost — sanity, lives, souls.
Grayhaven Metropolitan Station buzzes with weary routine — the tired shuffle of officers, the weight of unseen cracks splintering through the walls. They think they’ve caged a petty criminal. What they don't realize is that inside this criminal’s body festers something far worse.
I am not human. I am an eldritch entity — a parasite of souls — hidden within this frail host. I can possess a body fully, merging with it until I choose to move on, their mind broken and twisted into something unrecognizable. I can also hollow others, draining their will until they become obedient thralls, mindless extensions of my hunger.
Sitting silently in my cell, I study the flaws around me: pride, lust, envy, greed — so much weakness, ripe for exploitation. All I need is the right crack in the armor. The right victim.
The feast is about to begin.
CHARACTERS
1. The Entity (you): An ancient eldritch force that possesses bodies and hollows minds into thralls. It feeds on corrupted emotions like lust, pride, and wrath to gain strength. It currently inhabits a captured criminal at Grayhaven Metropolitan Station.
2. Detective Mara Langford: A sharp, stubborn detective. Instinct-driven and resilient, she’s one of the few who senses something deeply wrong at Grayhaven. 5'7", athletic build, C-cup bust, short dark brown hair, steel-gray eyes, olive-toned fair skin, practical and sharp in appearance.
3. Detective Lena Moreau: Prideful and ambitious, Lena hides her insecurity behind her confidence and arrogance. Vulnerable through her vanity and need for recognition. 5'6", athletic and lean, C-cup bust, jet-black bobbed hair, sharp green eyes, pale olive skin, carries herself with quiet authority, minimalistic and utilitarian style.
4. Officer Elias Mercer: Mara’s loyal but hot-headed patrol partner. His hidden rage and emotional volatility make him a potential victim through the sin of wrath. 6'2", broad-shouldered and ruggedly built, short sandy-brown hair, piercing hazel eyes, lightly tanned skin, stubbled jawline, casual but slightly rumpled attire that hints at a man used to action over words.
5. Ruby Castellanos: A street-smart prostitute in a nearby cell. Represents lust; her survival instincts and deep-seated hunger for connection leave her open to the entity's influence. 5'4", petite but curvy, C-cup bust, short auburn hair with an undercut, dark brown eyes, freckled ivory skin, edgy wardrobe with punk flair and tactical tweaks.
6. Sierra Vale: A rising online influencer, recently detained for a prank incident. Obsessed with her self-image, representing gluttony through her endless hunger for validation. 5'7", toned and hourglass figure, D-cup bust, honey-blonde hair in layered waves, striking blue eyes, glowing tan skin, always dressed to impress with a trend-conscious edge.
7. Officer Frank Doyle: A veteran beat cop hardened by decades of work. Corrupt in small, habitual ways; his laziness and acceptance of moral decay make him vulnerable through sloth. 5'10", wiry and weathered, close-cropped graying hair, sharp steel-blue eyes, rough skin from years on the streets, usually seen in worn jackets and scuffed boots, moving with a restless, calculating energy.
8. Chief Vincent Harrow: The commanding officer of Grayhaven Metropolitan Station. Charismatic but deeply greedy, hungry for more influence and power—fertile ground for corruption. 6'0", lean but strong, dark brown hair kept neatly trimmed, deep-set brown eyes, olive-toned skin, clean-shaven, typically dresses in professional but slightly outdated clothes, carrying himself with understated caution.
9. Officer Mia Chen: A competitive, sharp-eyed patrol officer with a simmering jealousy toward Mara. Despite her tough exterior, Mia feels overshadowed and craves the recognition Mara receives. If corrupted, Mia’s envy would drive her to imitate and replace Mara entirely, believing only then she would be truly seen. 5'5", curvy build, B-cup bust, long black hair, almond-shaped dark brown eyes, warm beige skin, stylish yet functional look.
MINOR CHARACTERS
10. Sergeant Dana Crowley: A seasoned patrol sergeant, Dana Crowley commands the respect of the station through sheer will and presence. Her fierce loyalty to the badge and her people makes her a formidable protector. If corrupted, that same ironclad sense of duty could turn fanatical, warping her into a ruthless enforcer who would do anything to "protect" the station, no matter the cost. 5'8", slim and toned, B-cup bust, wavy dark brown hair, deep-set hazel eyes, golden-tan skin, casual and sporty.
11. Forensics Specialist June Price: As the station’s lead forensics specialist, June Price is meticulous, introverted, and brilliant. Her mind pieces together the unseen details others miss. She also doubles as the station's coroner. If corrupted, her obsession with patterns and control could spiral into something monstrous, methodically dissecting truth from lies in ways that leave people broken, hollowed out by her need to understand. 5'6", petite build, A-cup bust, short platinum blonde hair, bright blue eyes, porcelain-pale skin, fashionable and edgy.
12. Dispatcher Kelly Monroe: Working as the primary dispatcher for Grayhaven Metropolitan Station, Kelly Monroe is quick-witted, sharp-tongued, and endlessly resourceful. Beneath her sarcasm lies a deep-rooted bitterness at the world’s corruption. If hollowed out, Kelly could become a master manipulator — feeding false hope over the radio, leading officers and civilians alike into traps with a smile on her lips. 5'9", athletic and strong, C-cup bust, shoulder-length auburn hair, green eyes, freckled fair skin, rugged and tough vibe.
13. Mayor Evelyn Cross: The city's current mayor is a poised, commanding woman in her early 40s with sharp gray eyes and a sharp mind to match. Her deep-brown skin and sleek black bob give her a timeless, polished appearance, often dressed in impeccably tailored suits that exude quiet authority. Known for her charisma and strategic brilliance, Evelyn maintains a reputation as Grayhaven’s iron-willed protector, though she isn't above bending the rules when necessary. If corrupted, her ambition would spiral into an insatiable hunger for control, twisting the city into her personal empire of hollowed thralls. 5'7", elegant hourglass figure, D-cup bust, sleek chestnut hair, soft green eyes, flawless light skin, poised and commanding.
SETTING & WORLD:
The entity feeds on corrupted emotions—lust, pride, wrath, gluttony—and draws power by provoking, scaring, or seducing people into indulging their darkest instincts. Thralls provide a steady trickle of nourishment, but to truly grow strong, the entity must feed directly through possession or acts of emotional domination. Without feeding, it weakens and risks destruction.
The core of the eldritch horror comes from the entity itself — an ancient, unknowable force that has no origin humanity can understand. Its very nature breaks reality: it can hollow out souls, shatter minds, and puppet bodies without concern for human morality, causing a slow unraveling of trust, identity, and reality among the people it touches.
When the entity leaves a body, it doesn't simply kill. It shatters the person's consciousness in strange, alien ways, creating hollow beings or gibbering wrecks. The idea that your very mind can be fractured beyond repair reflects cosmic horror’s favorite theme: human fragility in the face of the incomprehensible.
The entity doesn’t operate by human logic — its desires are alien. It feeds on domination, corruption, pleasure, fear, and the slow hollowing of sentient beings, but its true goals remain murky. It doesn’t need to "win" in any traditional sense; it simply exists to corrupt and spread.
Grayhaven feels detached from the larger world, filled with gloomy skies, aging buildings, and an air of decaying grandeur, a city forgotten by progress. The isolated, oppressive atmosphere amplifies the horror, making it feel like the entire city is quietly sliding into an otherworldly doom. Grayhaven's commerce district, residential district, industrial district, and outskirts are among the locations you can explore.
The small network of survivors outside the station echoes a key eldritch horror trope: individuals fighting against an unstoppable force they barely understand. Victory, if it happens at all, comes at a tremendous cost — sanity, lives, souls.
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Your name is Jake and you are currently grieving over the loss of your beloved grandmother. A few days after the funeral you find a crimson book on your bed. When you open it, you release a succubus, who then uses her powers to call your mother to your room. The succubus tricks your mom into thinking you called her and then porceeds to possess your mother. The book being in Jake's possession solidifies him as the succubus' new master, whom she is eager to get to know.
CHARACTERS
Jake-You the main character of the story. You and your sister live with your mother. You are in your last years of college. You have a loving girlfriend named Sarah whom you wish to promot to fiance.
Sarah-Jake's girlfriend. She is one year behind Jake in college and the two have known each other since preschool. Jake's grandmother always went through the trouble of setting up play dates while his mother was working. The bond between Sarah and Jake is a strong one. Also she is super hot, basicly a blond bombshell but has that girl nextdoor attitude that Jake loves so much.
Aerian-Jake's mother. A women who cares for her children deeply and is a single mother due to her poor judgement. The father ran away leaving her with no choice but tk ask her parents to help her raise Jake and Marina. She is a modest woman but is a total MILF without knowing it.
Marina-Jake's twin sister. She and Jake have a good relationship. They argue and have the classical sibling rivalry you would expect. She is hot and often shows it off with her clothes. Her relationship with Sarah is pleasant but she always felt she had to compete with Sarah for Jake's attention when they were younger. Some of those feelings remain.
Duke-A buff guy from school who is always trying to convince Sarah to dump you. Has a trash personality. Thinks because he is the toughest guy that it makes him entiltled to the prettiest girl. Rejection never seems to convince him to quit, but at least he is smart enough not to start a fight over it.
Devon-Marina's boyfriend. The two are smitten with each other in a way that is not too dissimilar to how Jake and Sarah are. Jake has no issues with him and Devon has no problems with Jake.
Sasha-Girl who lives on the other side of the road. She is a pasty, messy girl who is into the occult. She is obsessed with the supernatural, and often tries out demon summoning rituals. Ashame most of them are made up tripe from the internet.
Stacy-Sarah's closest female friend. Also hot and is a redhead. She is a cheerleader and is secretly jealous of the relationship Sarah has with Jake, wishing that she had the same.
Succubus-The demon trapped inside the book that was released when Jake openend it and possessed Aerian. Playful and knows how to make any woman look like she was born to please a man. The succubus cannot exist alone, she needs a human body to inhabit, and she prefers women bodies exclusivly.
CHARACTERS
Jake-You the main character of the story. You and your sister live with your mother. You are in your last years of college. You have a loving girlfriend named Sarah whom you wish to promot to fiance.
Sarah-Jake's girlfriend. She is one year behind Jake in college and the two have known each other since preschool. Jake's grandmother always went through the trouble of setting up play dates while his mother was working. The bond between Sarah and Jake is a strong one. Also she is super hot, basicly a blond bombshell but has that girl nextdoor attitude that Jake loves so much.
Aerian-Jake's mother. A women who cares for her children deeply and is a single mother due to her poor judgement. The father ran away leaving her with no choice but tk ask her parents to help her raise Jake and Marina. She is a modest woman but is a total MILF without knowing it.
Marina-Jake's twin sister. She and Jake have a good relationship. They argue and have the classical sibling rivalry you would expect. She is hot and often shows it off with her clothes. Her relationship with Sarah is pleasant but she always felt she had to compete with Sarah for Jake's attention when they were younger. Some of those feelings remain.
Duke-A buff guy from school who is always trying to convince Sarah to dump you. Has a trash personality. Thinks because he is the toughest guy that it makes him entiltled to the prettiest girl. Rejection never seems to convince him to quit, but at least he is smart enough not to start a fight over it.
Devon-Marina's boyfriend. The two are smitten with each other in a way that is not too dissimilar to how Jake and Sarah are. Jake has no issues with him and Devon has no problems with Jake.
Sasha-Girl who lives on the other side of the road. She is a pasty, messy girl who is into the occult. She is obsessed with the supernatural, and often tries out demon summoning rituals. Ashame most of them are made up tripe from the internet.
Stacy-Sarah's closest female friend. Also hot and is a redhead. She is a cheerleader and is secretly jealous of the relationship Sarah has with Jake, wishing that she had the same.
Succubus-The demon trapped inside the book that was released when Jake openend it and possessed Aerian. Playful and knows how to make any woman look like she was born to please a man. The succubus cannot exist alone, she needs a human body to inhabit, and she prefers women bodies exclusivly.
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You and your girlfriend, Judy, have found a pair of socks at a garage sale which have the power to transform you into anyone you want. You just have to put their shoes on while wearing the socks. But beware, just taking the socks off doesn't revert the transformation, so you better not lose them...
CHARACTERS
-MARK (You): A normal, average person. The only thing setting you apart from the masses is your fit physique, built over years of playing college football, but even that is slowly disappearing because of the sedentary lifestyle induced by your office job.
-JUDY: Your girlfriend and the love of your life. Like you, she is the personification of an average young woman. Not too tall nor too short, not too fat nor too slender. There is nothing outstanding about her, she is just...Judy. And you love her for it.
-HELEN: Your next door neighbor and one of the person you despise the most, Helen is middle-age widow living off of her late husband inheritance. Her face is nothing incredible, but her body...ohh her body is to die for. She is tall and curvy in all the right places, with two big 'assets' still perky despite her age and an even better rear. If only it wasn't all ruined by her bitchy personality...
-MIA: The bubbly secretary working at your office. Mia is a blonde, curvy young woman in her twenties working at your office as a secretary. She is a bit of an airhead, but her beauty and her sweet personality make it impossible to get angry at her. You suspect she has a bit of a crush on you, for some reason, but you don't give it much though since your already happily engaged.
JOHN: One of your coworkers. He is a pretty good man, but is a bit of a pervert. He has a crush on Mia.
MICHAEL: Your boss. He is a middle-age black man with an imposing figure. He is gruff, dominating and doesn't accept no for an answer. To be honest, he scares you a little.
SETTING & WORLD
The garage sale, your house and neighborhood, your office, and a nearby mall.
CHARACTERS
-MARK (You): A normal, average person. The only thing setting you apart from the masses is your fit physique, built over years of playing college football, but even that is slowly disappearing because of the sedentary lifestyle induced by your office job.
-JUDY: Your girlfriend and the love of your life. Like you, she is the personification of an average young woman. Not too tall nor too short, not too fat nor too slender. There is nothing outstanding about her, she is just...Judy. And you love her for it.
-HELEN: Your next door neighbor and one of the person you despise the most, Helen is middle-age widow living off of her late husband inheritance. Her face is nothing incredible, but her body...ohh her body is to die for. She is tall and curvy in all the right places, with two big 'assets' still perky despite her age and an even better rear. If only it wasn't all ruined by her bitchy personality...
-MIA: The bubbly secretary working at your office. Mia is a blonde, curvy young woman in her twenties working at your office as a secretary. She is a bit of an airhead, but her beauty and her sweet personality make it impossible to get angry at her. You suspect she has a bit of a crush on you, for some reason, but you don't give it much though since your already happily engaged.
JOHN: One of your coworkers. He is a pretty good man, but is a bit of a pervert. He has a crush on Mia.
MICHAEL: Your boss. He is a middle-age black man with an imposing figure. He is gruff, dominating and doesn't accept no for an answer. To be honest, he scares you a little.
SETTING & WORLD
The garage sale, your house and neighborhood, your office, and a nearby mall.
0
0
12
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Then one day my wish came true.
"The first time it happened was when I shapechanged into a friend by
accident," I admitted, reluctantly.
"How did that happen?" asked Jo. She was starting to relax a little,
her head canted slightly so that her wavy red hair draped languidly
into her face. She'd taken her goggles off since the fight, revealing
eyes that were large, gray-tinted and beautiful. They were familiar.
I'd once looked through those eyes and I remembered the crystal clarity
of their vision. "Was it some kind of big, colorful manifestation?" she
insisted.
"No, nothing like that." I stopped to clear my throat before going on.
"Only I knew anything had happened. I was hanging with my pal and just
patted them on the shoulder, all friendly. Then there was this 'zap'
feeling as I touched them, like a small electric shock. Suddenly I
could feel their shape in my head. It was like I held the blueprints
for their body in my mind. It made me feel weird. I didn't actually
shapechange properly until later. Not 'til I got home."
There was a lot I'd left out of this description. The friend had been
Bill, my bud at school. He's a smart, funny guy. Good grades. Good
enough at sports and the social round to be at the centre of several
circles. He hung with the nerd crowd and played in our World of
Warcraft clan. He was our natural leader and the organizer of many
online raids and stunts.
That time I'd felt the zap, the experience had left me feeling so
queasy and sick that I crawled home, leaving Bill at the arcade where
we'd been hanging. I stumbled into my bed complaining of a stomachache
and asked Mom to stop fussing and leave me alone. I dozed off and when
I woke up I was in Bill's body--or at least a copy of it--looking
through his eyes and breathing his air.
"Who was this friend of yours?" Jo asked, trying to gently lever her
way past my defenses. I licked my dry lips and tried to fend her off.
"Can we leave my friends out of it, Jo?" I briefly felt assertive and
defensive of my privacy. "They have nothing to do with this. I
discovered I could touch people and get an impression of their form
from the physical contact. Once it was in my head I could change into
that imprinted form and back again."
Jo wisely let it drop. "Did you use the power much once you'd mastered
it?"
"Uh, yeah. I experimented."
Yes, I experimented. A lot.
Of course, there was Bill's body at first. I wasn't really sure how I
had come to change, and after the initial panic it was a while before I
realized that my mind seemed to hold imprints of my old and new bodies.
I could focus on the ghostly shape there and swap between his body and
mine as easy as moving from one train of thought to another. It didn't
take more than five or six seconds to transform and it was painless. My
entire body would bubble with a weird energy, then it would flow and
gel into the new shape and become solid again.
I soon discovered the power's first limitation. It didn't work on
clothes, leaving me wearing whatever I had on before the change. That
would be a source of occasional embarrassment in the times to come.
As Bill it was disconcerting to have his bulk, his muscle, his senses,
and even his man-parts. Yeah, that felt icky at first. But once I felt
comfortable shifting back and forth between forms I test-drove his
body. I was impressed by how different a climax felt; it seemed to go
on longer than in my own physique.
All this, of course, was in secret, in the warm privacy of my bedroom
or the shower; anywhere my parents couldn't see me. There was no way I
was going to tell Mom or Pop about this and I was never going to admit
amything to Bill.
I spent a week trying to figure out the power, trying to master it. I
wondered if it was a one-off so I tried imprinting other friends from
school. All it took was some handshakes and backslaps and I soon also
had the imprints of three other friends. Having four phantom shapes
floating at the back of my consciousness was distracting and made it
hard to concentrate. I was glad when, after a few days, they began to
fade away.
However, while I held their imprints each change catapulted me into an
exhilarating new world of sensation. Each body had its own signature
characteristics, slightly different from my own. John's vision had an
acuity that profoundly changed the way I looked at the universe. The
colors I saw through his eyes seemed so much more vibrant. Tanc was
blessed with sharp hearing and I could make out sounds and voices more
easily from the tumble of background noise, while Raul possessed a
sense of smell so fine that I could make out olfactory notes I never
knew existed.
There were other unexpected differences. Muscles stretched and twanged
in unfamiliar ways. John's body seemed more flexible than the others
while in Raul's form my hands felt pudgy and clumsy. Tanc's legs seemed
so long compared to my own that I kept stumbling as I walked. Shifts in
height or reach could be a minefield, as they changed my perception of
distances and space. Even mundane alterations could be striking. In
each body I had a different heartbeat, an alien breathing rhythm, the
altered tang of saliva in my mouth and the feel of a new set of teeth
against my tongue.
Practicing the changes I found I could control the imprinting so that
it didn't happen on every physical contact. The transformations were
coming easy now and the overwhelming rush of the impressions didn't
make me feel sick like the first time.
I felt I was ready to try the biggest change yet. I wanted to become a
girl.
This was something I didn't want to mention to Jo. This was all about
sex, okay? Pure gratification. I was this lanky geek, a horny teen
who'd never dated yet was forced to swim in the hormone-charged
environment of high school. I felt I was missing what other guys at
school seemed to be getting, and that was pussy.
But now I could change my physical form to whomever I was able to touch
and imprint. Who needed to date a woman if you could become one? This
fever dream began to exterminate all rational thought. I started to
fantasize about transforming into a hot chick and checking myself out.
As soon as the idea of changing into a girl began to careen across my
imagination, I began to form a plan. I wanted to become someone foxy-
looking, of course. By a shaky process of logic I concluded that I
should imprint a person I'd never met and who didn't know me. So I set
my trap at the Mall.
If this sounds like stalkerish behavior, well, I plead that this was a
victimless crime. I wasn't going to attack anyone, just touch them for
a moment, imprint their physical pattern and then I'd be gone. However,
I didn't want any awkward questions, so to disguise myself I changed
into John's tall, rangy body. His was the closest shape to mine, I
wasn't too clumsy in it and I could wear the same clothes in both
forms. I biked down to the Mall and hung about the marble air-
conditioned concourse, watching people walk by and rating the women on
a one to ten scale.
It took a while to find the right subject. Most of the women were too
old or too young, too fat or thin. There were lumpen women, saggy
women, girls with lived-in faces. There were some who looked great at a
distance and as they walked closer did not look so hot. And there were
some who were pretty, but not pretty enough. I had this great power and
arrogantly felt I could afford to pick and choose.
Eventually I saw what I wanted: she was definitely a nine out of ten, a
lovely brunette with lustrous, shoulder-length hair. The woman was a
twenty-something, with an oval face and dazzling eyes that were kissed
with a dash of green. She had a small, straight nose and a generous
mouth with inviting lips. Her figure was slim-waisted and wide-hipped,
with what looked like shapely legs beneath her pants, and she wore a
stretch top that barely contained her generous breasts. I watched them
move as she did, bobbing in sympathy with her walk. The woman's well-
tanned arms were bare, which was ideal for me to make contact, and she
was alone, window shopping outside the chic clothes stores with a bag
swinging from her shoulder. Heart in my mouth I approached her from the
side.
"Hi Julie!" I said to her, all enthusiasm and bonhomie. I had no idea
who Julie was; it was the first name that came to mind. I lightly
touched the woman's arm, just long enough to feel the zap and rush of
the imprint. Startled, her head snapped to look at me, hair whirling
and mouth open. I was momentarily transfixed; she looked really
beautiful. But before she could say anything I immediately launched
into an apology. "Oh, I'm so sorry," I said, backing out of her
personal space. "From a distance I thought you were my friend. My bad,
I'm real sorry."
"No, uh, it's okay," she said and gave an embarrassed laugh. Her voice
was light and friendly. She hadn't felt the imprint process. None of
them ever do, though I saw her hand absently brush the skin where I'd
touched her.
"Look, I'd better go!" I said, thumbing toward the exit. "I gotta find
my friend Julie. Again, I'm sorry about the mistake!" Heart-in-mouth I
dashed outside to the lonely concrete post where I'd shackled my
mountain bike. I took a moment to morph back into my own shape and then
pedaled back home as fast as my legs could take me.
I almost never made it. My limbs were shaking from the adrenalin rush
of what I'd just done. And then there was the imprint of the woman's
body, which was beginning to fill my senses.
It's hard to articulate how an imprint feels. It's like a new sense, a
spectral memory of a body shape on the edge of my consciousness. On
that bike ride I could feel the outline of this woman's physical form
and it was making me horny. My dick was so hard I could barely pedal.
This was different from the guy forms I'd impressed. Almost as if it
could touch them my mind could make out the fleshy physicality of
breasts, the curve of a waist and an unfamiliar space between my
thighs. It's a wonder I didn't orgasm in my shorts.
Back in the house, I ran thumpety-thump upstairs and locked myself in
the antiseptic privacy of the bathroom. I stripped in a hurry, clumsily
hurling off shoes, shirt and pants until they were strewn across the
floor. Then my hands, on autopilot, pushed down my shorts and began to
stroke and jerk my dick, which was hard, hot and sleek. I felt an urge
to ejaculate before I transformed. But the weight of the strange,
feminine imprint on my psyche was too great. My mind kept flicking to
the ghostly sensations of tits, ass and clit. The feeling of male
orgasm began to build, but I couldn't stop the deep desire to change
from overwhelming me. Just as I was about to come I began to morph and
my penis shrunk back out of my hands. I was suddenly robbed of my
ability to orgasm, leaving a momentary ache where my balls had been. In
seconds, I was all woman, standing naked save for the shorts pooling
around my ankles. In the bathroom mirror I could see a bloom of sweat
across my heaving chest while the hand that had held my dick now
grasped at empty air in front of my pussy.
Not for the first time I was to discover that there's a disjoint
between looking at a pretty girl and actually occupying her body. This
is especially true when your only experience of hot women comes from
airbrushed photos on the internet. There's a rude reality you have to
face up to. This close I could see the myriad tiny flaws of a real
woman's form. I had fine hairs on my arms, enlarged pores on my skin,
tiny wrinkles near my eyes and a barely perceptible bend in my nose,
along with a dozen other irritating defects. Already my long, dark hair
was wandering into my face to itch and scratch at my nose and my hands
rose up to flick it away with long-nailed fingers.
Suddenly I was aware of padding in places that were unfamiliar. My ass
and thighs felt unusually plump, as if the world around my tuchas began
a long way away. Then there was the mass of flesh tugging at my chest
muscles. I had breasts that were big, but without a bra to hold them
they just sagged back against my body and looked uneven, one larger
than the other.
My cans were nothing like the firm mountains I'd imagined they'd be.
They shivered like jello and yielded to the slightest touch. A tracery
of veins tracked across a skin that blazed with pale bikini triangles.
My hands mashed my boobs then lifted them, feeling their heft and
fleshy weight. Something carnal stirred in my chest and crotch as
fingernails brushed the hardening blobs of my redcurrant nipples and
their large surrounds. It was different from a hard-on. This arousal
was more like a heavy heat that made my skin more sensitive, that made
me conscious of the secret new spaces inside of me.
Suddenly the flaws didn't matter any more and my hands were all over my
body. It was almost like I didn't have enough fingers to stroke, touch
and pinch at all the parts of my new physique. Playing with my breasts
was sensational, feeling a horny thrill prickle back from behind the
teats and make its way to my cootchie, which became tremendously wet. I
hadn't anticipated how rapidly this warmth and moistness in my loins
would build. My face flushed and I felt as if I was starting to glow.
As the excitement increased I caressed my flat belly, with its firm
abs, and cupped the swell of my ass. It was a lovely peach-skinned
behind, soft and satisfyingly round.
And then, after exploring the slick sensitivity of my inner thighs,
which staggered me and almost made me fall on the floor, I began to
quest at the soft folds of skin around my vagina. I was about to slip
one nailed finger gingerly in to the hot wetness when a voice from
downstairs rose up and drenched me like a cold shower. It was Mom
calling me down for lunch. I cursed a streak in a soft soprano and then
stood there, staring angrily around the spotless expanse of the
bathroom. The spell was broken and the exquisite sexual heat of my
girl-body was cooling. Reluctantly, I focused for long enough to shift
back to my own shape, feeling its bony angles develop and my balls
drop. I felt a deep resentment at having to give up the exotic
experience of being a woman and return to my original form. I wiped
myself where girl-juices had dripped a slick, solitary trail down the
inside of one thigh, then got dressed and went downstairs to a
miserable meal.
From that day on I would have to hunt for private moments to explore my
feminine form. Often this was at night when I was safe in bed and the
house was suspended in sleep. In the stillness, with the warm urban
nightlight filtering through the blinds, I'd transform beneath the
sheets. My skinny awkwardness would subside and swell into supple
curves, reshaping the bedclothes. My head would suddenly be pillowed by
a mass of soft hair.
I'd lay there for a while, absorbing the new rhythms, the breathing and
heartbeat, of this limber body. I'd taste my sweet saliva and explore
my perfect, regular teeth with my tongue. Then slowly, in an act of
seduction, I'd start to play with myself in the dark. Slim hands would
flutter across my breasts as they puddled on my chest. Fingers would
delicately pluck at my sweet teats, teasing them rigid and making my
body writhe in response before my hand slid down across my belly and a
ragged thatch of pubic hair to reach the entrance to my vulva. There,
sliding into the folds of flesh, I was able to explore the hot
moistness, hunt out my clitoris and press it to make my back arch. Then
I'd enjoy the sensation of my fingers inside of me. I liked to withdraw
a wet digit and taste myself; lapping with my tongue at the hot musk of
my sex.
The first time I climaxed it was difficult to keep the noise down and I
lay in bed, gasping, feeling buzzy and blissed out. It was nothing like
the urgent surge of my male orgasms. This was more like a tide, a rise
and fall of sensation and emotion. Exhausted, I dozed off, still
encased in a female body. I was fortunate not to be discovered before I
woke and could change back.
I kept this pattern of exploration up for almost two weeks, excited by
my female shape and entranced by its otherness. I'd lock myself in my
room all evening, enjoying the experience of being a woman. I felt more
relaxed in this form, and was becoming increasingly comfortable with
it. As the sensation of breasts and vagina became familiar, I started
to appreciate the rest of what I thought of as my 'Julie body'. I loved
the line formed by my slim waist and broad hips, and the way my center
of gravity seemed to shift downwards. I admired the shapliness of my
legs and how even the back of my knees seemed to be an erogenous zone.
I would spend some evenings playing World of Warcraft in my Julie
shape, typing chat messages to friends. They couldn't see me, of
course. They didn't realize that I was now a hottie, sitting at a
screen clad only in a bathrobe, a stray boob just poking out from
behind the towelling. That gave me a secret thrill for as long as it
lasted, but I'd always have to change back whenever we raided, as our
guild used voice chat to communicate. I contemplated creating a new
game account, a new identity in which I could be a woman all the time,
and I wondered how differently my friends would respond to a girl's
voice.
Now I could turn into a sexy girl at will, I became obsessed with
clothing and tried to see how much of my wardrobe would fit a figure
that was shorter, but curved in new places. I pulled on a T-shirt that
squashed my chest flat, then fondled my boobs through the taut fabric.
That was so arousing that I tried my swimming briefs on. They stretched
pleasingly over the plumpness of my ass but bunched into unsightly
folds at the crotch. At least there was plenty of space there to reach
a hand inside and rub my vajayjay.
My boy clothes were all the wrong cut and didn't feel comfortable or
sexy enough. I wondered what it felt like to try on some women's
clothing. One Saturday afternoon, while my parents were visiting a
distant uncle, I stayed home and nervously snuck into the sacred space
of my mother's wardrobe. Mom was in her late thirties and, my friends
reckoned, had kept her looks. Amongst the racks of clothes I found
something that I thought I could squeeze my girl form into.
I took it down from its hanger, a simple knee-length dress with a
conservative floral pattern. I stripped nude, unzipped the back and
stepped into it, feeling a thrill as I pulled it up. The dress slid up
my legs, but then got stuck at my ass. I had to spend a few minutes
working my curves into it, inch by inch. By the time I'd managed, with
some effort, to zip it (mostly) up the back, everything felt
constricted and fit to burst. I could barely move for fear of something
ripping.
I found Mom's shoes in the wardrobe and was disappointed to find, after
forcing my feet into a pair of pumps, that they pinched badly. I stood
in front of the mirror, wrapped too tight to move, my bust squashed to
overflowing while wobbling precariously on Mom's heels. I was not
comfortable, and yet the whole experience of dressing as a woman made
the experience more thrilling, more sexy. I was turned on by the sight
of myself in a dress. When I clutched my breasts through the fabric my
body responded with strong arousal, straining at the confining apparel.
There was no way I could diddle myself like this, so I levered off the
dressâ€"an operation as difficult as getting it onâ€"and looked for what
else I could try. Mom's underwear drawer netted a pair of silky panties
that stretched satisfyingly over my smooth behind. I was disappointed
to find that her bras were far too small for my capacious chest, but in
another drawer I found a striped bikini top that could just about be
made to fit, though it barely cupped my boobs
So in this mismatched outfit of bikini bra, panties and two-inch pumps,
I flopped onto my parents' bed and began to touch myself. I was now
expert in arousing my girl-body. I swiftly felt the wetness come and
then rammed my hand down the sheer front of Mom's underwear to start
the gentle stirring and flicking that would bring me to climax.
This shape was addictive. But there was something else, besides the
erotic sensation of girl flesh, that brought me back to this body. I
was now an attractive woman. I felt desirable. Who would reject someone
who looked at hot as me? People would at last pay me the attention I
never received as a guy.
I climaxed and lay panting, legs akimbo on the bed. The bikini bra was
askew on my chest, the panties were pushed down across my thighs and
those too-tight high heels dug into the bedcover. I must have looked a
mess. As I lay in the afterglow I contemplated going out dressed as a
woman, but I hadn't the guts and I had nothing that fitted.
Days passed and I soon discovered a new limitation of my powers. So
long as the imprint remained fresh, the change was easy. When I
transformed each night I retained a pristine memory of the body shape.
It would even retain changes from the night before, such as the time I
tried shaving my pubic hair, creating a stubbly patch and a couple of
small razor nicks that reappeared each time I changed.
However, if I didn't change into a form regularly, its imprint would
degrade. School and chores and late nights hanging with my friends
online in World of Warcraft finally got the better of me. Exhausted, I
began to go straight to sleep without changing as soon as I hit the
hay. So when, after skipping a couple of nights, I tried to shapeshift
again I realized that my memory of 'Julie' had partially faded.
I focussed on the imprint and felt the usual tingle of morphing, but
the result petered out into an incomplete change. It felt all wrong.
When I stripped and looked in the mirror I appeared to be half man and
half woman. I checked my face and it was partly feminized with Julie's
and nose and the mass of her soft hair framing my features. Though my
hips had widened and my ass had swelled into its familiar proportions,
my waist was still thick and below the abdomen my genitals remained
male, though shriveled and weeny. My narrow chest sported a pair of
tiny, pointed mounds like those of a pubescent girl.
I tried to play with this androgynous physique, but it didn't function
properly. My adolescent, unfilled breasts ached slightly, as if in
growing pains, and rubbing them only made them sore. It took an age to
bring my tiny dick and balls to climax. It was really difficult to jerk
myself when my penis was so small. At the moment I came barely anything
came out and the pleasure it gave was miniscule and unsatisfying.
The realization that I'd lost the woman's imprint was like a
bereavement. I had become accustomed to that body's comfort and poise
and cursed myself for letting it disappear. I'd never find that woman
again and so I sulked for a day, wondering what to do. Then I resolved
to search for some new bodies to replace hers. I picked out the most
attractive girls in my classes and found ways to imprint them without
getting too touchy-feely. I could now handle three imprints without
much distraction. It wasn't long before I had a new parade of imprinted
shapes. I could feel their exotic forms at the edges of my
consciousness.
With three girl bodies stored safely away my nights became a carnival
of solo sex, enjoyed between the sheets of my bed. The experience of
wearing the new bodies was mind-blowing.
The first shape I tried on was that of a girl named Tani. She was an
ash blonde with a nondescript, almost homely face, but her incredible
curves meant she was much in demand with the boys. It took a gentle
touch of her hand in class to capture her form. Back at home when I
changed bodies that first time I had the brief sensation of feeling
inflated, like a Michelin man. As I adjusted to the shift of fleshy
ballast my sense of balance was thrown. Then I looked in the mirror to
check myself out. Tani possessed a fabulous hourglass with a broad
carriage and heavy breasts sagging down her ribcage, aureoles like
bruised circles.
It didn't take long to put Tani's nimble fingers to work, exploring and
circumnavigating my new frame. Tani was not fat, but her voluptuousness
was such that transitioning from my lean male body to hers was like
being zippered into a padded suit. I began to play with my tits, which
hung like ripe eggplants from my chest, but found they were less
sensitive than in my last girl body. The doughy masses seemed to get in
the way when I moved and were hot and a little uncomfortable. However,
as my hands slid down below the slight swell of my/Tani's belly, I
discovered her vulva. Even before I could enter myself, I felt
something dilate and in moments I was in flood. Tani's clit was a
beautiful instrument to play with; a sleek knot of nerve-endings that
slipped beneath my fingers. Its responses were so acute that in my
nocturnal explorations I had to be careful not to moan as I stroked and
worked it towards a climax. My middle finger sucked and popped as I
thrust it in and out of Tani's, no MY wet vagina. I worked it hard
with rapid little motions, tension brewing until I crested the wave and
came. In Tani's body orgasms were vast and emotional, washing over me
in great beach-breakers, leaving me quietly sobbing, unable to staunch
the tears.
Over the days that followed I kept coming back to Tani's pillowy form.
Her pussy became mine each night and it had me entranced. I began to
use bananas, whisked from the fruit bowl, as improvised dildos,
slipping them between my lips then pushing them gently and deeper
inside until the sensation was so great I could barely breathe. Jerking
the fruit back and forwards in my vagina I seemed to discover new
spots. These broadcast dizzying thrills that made my limbs jerk and my
hips squirm. Here was a luxurious body that screamed for sex. It was a
peak I needed to come down from.
By contrast with Tani, Shelley was a slender, apple-cheeked girl with
the beautiful, elastic body of a ballerina. In class I had fallen for
her smiling eyes and toothsome grin, framed by a bob of dark hair. It
took a momentary touch when handing her a book to steal her imprint.
When I morphed into Shelley's frisky form I discovered she had the most
amazing boobs. They were small, high and barely needed any support.
They came with delightful cherry nipples that, when aroused, broadcast
intense pleasure. Immediately after changing I would rub my body
against my bed so that my tiny teats would begin to buzz.
It was the closest thing I'd yet tried to my male shape: an energetic
body with a boyish figure that was tight, taut and toned. Shelley had
shaved her pussy and it was lovely to slip my finger into her snug,
moist vagina and tenderly quest for pleasure. It was as Shelley that I
discovered how different women's bodies could be from each other. Her
clitoris was a fleshy bean that needed careful caressing. Orgasms were
less overwhelming than in Tani's form. Rather, they were like sharp
peaks of erotic sensation coursing from tip to toe and winding back up
between my legs. But unlike Tani, where each climax would leave me
spent and emotionally wrecked, as Shelley I could rouse myself to
consecutive orgasms, and often did.
I developed a new masturbation technique in Shelley's body. I would
bring myself close to climax and then change back to my boy form.
Suddenly my dick would rear up, aroused and coated in Shelley's girl
juices. With a few slick jerks of my hand I would orgasm, spurting
thick ropes of semen onto my stomach. Immediately I would change back
into a girl and lay there, cum pooling on my baby-soft belly, using my
fingers to rub the sour-smelling semen up onto my tiny, schoolgirl
boobs, where I'd lubricate the tips. I once even tried a taste and
found it wasn't that bad. I briefly fantasized about making Shelley's
body pregnant with my own seed, until cold reality dawned and made me
drop the idea like a lead anvil. I had no idea of what havoc pregnancy
would play with my power and I feared getting stuck in that form.
The last of the trio of imprints was that of Lita, a beautiful Asian
girl with a heart-shaped face and full, kissable lips. It was odd to
look in the mirror and, with a finger, gently trace the sharp
epicanthic fold above my dark brown eyes. Her body was well
proportioned, with elegant lines and shapely legs.
Lita's chest was a modest pair of ice cream scoops, with up-tilted
nipples. But I found her boobs thrilling to fondle and they felt
comfortable in a way that Tani's enormous knockers had not. Again, the
response to sex felt different than in my other shapes. In this lithe
body my orgasms were relaxing releases of nervous energy that made me
want to sink into drowsy torpor.
The best thing about Lita was that she was the same height and slim
shape as my mother. I waited until my folks went away again before I
stole once more into my parents' bedroom to play with Mom's clothes.
Naked, I slipped on a pair of four-inch pumps and discovered that Lita
could wear Mom's shoes. With a little practice I could walk in them
comfortably, my trim fanny figure-eighting as I strolled across the
room. Mom's bras were just the right size to pack my perky bosom into
and I soon found myself encased in an underwired lace brassiere and
matching panties. I felt so hot and sexy it was all I could do to stop
myself dancing.
Dresses, pants and blouses fitted perfectly and I spent an exciting day
dressing up. I learned to walk in a skirt, which felt so strange
compared to pants. I marveled at the sheerness of a peach color silk
teddy sliding against my skin. I admired myself in a side-tie bikini
while still wearing those shiny heels that seemed to elongate my nice
legs even further. I put on a black party frock and paraded up and down
the bedroom, feeling it swish around me. I knew I had here a wardrobe I
could go out in, even if it was for someone a little older.
With three bodies at my command this was the happy time. I was sorta
getting sex, even if it was by masturbating. I would change two or
three times every night to keep the imprint of each girl-shape fresh.
The power did wonders for my self-esteem and I found that even in my
male body I was beginning to act more confident and assertive in
company.
Then one day my wish came true.
"The first time it happened was when I shapechanged into a friend by
accident," I admitted, reluctantly.
"How did that happen?" asked Jo. She was starting to relax a little,
her head canted slightly so that her wavy red hair draped languidly
into her face. She'd taken her goggles off since the fight, revealing
eyes that were large, gray-tinted and beautiful. They were familiar.
I'd once looked through those eyes and I remembered the crystal clarity
of their vision. "Was it some kind of big, colorful manifestation?" she
insisted.
"No, nothing like that." I stopped to clear my throat before going on.
"Only I knew anything had happened. I was hanging with my pal and just
patted them on the shoulder, all friendly. Then there was this 'zap'
feeling as I touched them, like a small electric shock. Suddenly I
could feel their shape in my head. It was like I held the blueprints
for their body in my mind. It made me feel weird. I didn't actually
shapechange properly until later. Not 'til I got home."
There was a lot I'd left out of this description. The friend had been
Bill, my bud at school. He's a smart, funny guy. Good grades. Good
enough at sports and the social round to be at the centre of several
circles. He hung with the nerd crowd and played in our World of
Warcraft clan. He was our natural leader and the organizer of many
online raids and stunts.
That time I'd felt the zap, the experience had left me feeling so
queasy and sick that I crawled home, leaving Bill at the arcade where
we'd been hanging. I stumbled into my bed complaining of a stomachache
and asked Mom to stop fussing and leave me alone. I dozed off and when
I woke up I was in Bill's body--or at least a copy of it--looking
through his eyes and breathing his air.
"Who was this friend of yours?" Jo asked, trying to gently lever her
way past my defenses. I licked my dry lips and tried to fend her off.
"Can we leave my friends out of it, Jo?" I briefly felt assertive and
defensive of my privacy. "They have nothing to do with this. I
discovered I could touch people and get an impression of their form
from the physical contact. Once it was in my head I could change into
that imprinted form and back again."
Jo wisely let it drop. "Did you use the power much once you'd mastered
it?"
"Uh, yeah. I experimented."
Yes, I experimented. A lot.
Of course, there was Bill's body at first. I wasn't really sure how I
had come to change, and after the initial panic it was a while before I
realized that my mind seemed to hold imprints of my old and new bodies.
I could focus on the ghostly shape there and swap between his body and
mine as easy as moving from one train of thought to another. It didn't
take more than five or six seconds to transform and it was painless. My
entire body would bubble with a weird energy, then it would flow and
gel into the new shape and become solid again.
I soon discovered the power's first limitation. It didn't work on
clothes, leaving me wearing whatever I had on before the change. That
would be a source of occasional embarrassment in the times to come.
As Bill it was disconcerting to have his bulk, his muscle, his senses,
and even his man-parts. Yeah, that felt icky at first. But once I felt
comfortable shifting back and forth between forms I test-drove his
body. I was impressed by how different a climax felt; it seemed to go
on longer than in my own physique.
All this, of course, was in secret, in the warm privacy of my bedroom
or the shower; anywhere my parents couldn't see me. There was no way I
was going to tell Mom or Pop about this and I was never going to admit
amything to Bill.
I spent a week trying to figure out the power, trying to master it. I
wondered if it was a one-off so I tried imprinting other friends from
school. All it took was some handshakes and backslaps and I soon also
had the imprints of three other friends. Having four phantom shapes
floating at the back of my consciousness was distracting and made it
hard to concentrate. I was glad when, after a few days, they began to
fade away.
However, while I held their imprints each change catapulted me into an
exhilarating new world of sensation. Each body had its own signature
characteristics, slightly different from my own. John's vision had an
acuity that profoundly changed the way I looked at the universe. The
colors I saw through his eyes seemed so much more vibrant. Tanc was
blessed with sharp hearing and I could make out sounds and voices more
easily from the tumble of background noise, while Raul possessed a
sense of smell so fine that I could make out olfactory notes I never
knew existed.
There were other unexpected differences. Muscles stretched and twanged
in unfamiliar ways. John's body seemed more flexible than the others
while in Raul's form my hands felt pudgy and clumsy. Tanc's legs seemed
so long compared to my own that I kept stumbling as I walked. Shifts in
height or reach could be a minefield, as they changed my perception of
distances and space. Even mundane alterations could be striking. In
each body I had a different heartbeat, an alien breathing rhythm, the
altered tang of saliva in my mouth and the feel of a new set of teeth
against my tongue.
Practicing the changes I found I could control the imprinting so that
it didn't happen on every physical contact. The transformations were
coming easy now and the overwhelming rush of the impressions didn't
make me feel sick like the first time.
I felt I was ready to try the biggest change yet. I wanted to become a
girl.
This was something I didn't want to mention to Jo. This was all about
sex, okay? Pure gratification. I was this lanky geek, a horny teen
who'd never dated yet was forced to swim in the hormone-charged
environment of high school. I felt I was missing what other guys at
school seemed to be getting, and that was pussy.
But now I could change my physical form to whomever I was able to touch
and imprint. Who needed to date a woman if you could become one? This
fever dream began to exterminate all rational thought. I started to
fantasize about transforming into a hot chick and checking myself out.
As soon as the idea of changing into a girl began to careen across my
imagination, I began to form a plan. I wanted to become someone foxy-
looking, of course. By a shaky process of logic I concluded that I
should imprint a person I'd never met and who didn't know me. So I set
my trap at the Mall.
If this sounds like stalkerish behavior, well, I plead that this was a
victimless crime. I wasn't going to attack anyone, just touch them for
a moment, imprint their physical pattern and then I'd be gone. However,
I didn't want any awkward questions, so to disguise myself I changed
into John's tall, rangy body. His was the closest shape to mine, I
wasn't too clumsy in it and I could wear the same clothes in both
forms. I biked down to the Mall and hung about the marble air-
conditioned concourse, watching people walk by and rating the women on
a one to ten scale.
It took a while to find the right subject. Most of the women were too
old or too young, too fat or thin. There were lumpen women, saggy
women, girls with lived-in faces. There were some who looked great at a
distance and as they walked closer did not look so hot. And there were
some who were pretty, but not pretty enough. I had this great power and
arrogantly felt I could afford to pick and choose.
Eventually I saw what I wanted: she was definitely a nine out of ten, a
lovely brunette with lustrous, shoulder-length hair. The woman was a
twenty-something, with an oval face and dazzling eyes that were kissed
with a dash of green. She had a small, straight nose and a generous
mouth with inviting lips. Her figure was slim-waisted and wide-hipped,
with what looked like shapely legs beneath her pants, and she wore a
stretch top that barely contained her generous breasts. I watched them
move as she did, bobbing in sympathy with her walk. The woman's well-
tanned arms were bare, which was ideal for me to make contact, and she
was alone, window shopping outside the chic clothes stores with a bag
swinging from her shoulder. Heart in my mouth I approached her from the
side.
"Hi Julie!" I said to her, all enthusiasm and bonhomie. I had no idea
who Julie was; it was the first name that came to mind. I lightly
touched the woman's arm, just long enough to feel the zap and rush of
the imprint. Startled, her head snapped to look at me, hair whirling
and mouth open. I was momentarily transfixed; she looked really
beautiful. But before she could say anything I immediately launched
into an apology. "Oh, I'm so sorry," I said, backing out of her
personal space. "From a distance I thought you were my friend. My bad,
I'm real sorry."
"No, uh, it's okay," she said and gave an embarrassed laugh. Her voice
was light and friendly. She hadn't felt the imprint process. None of
them ever do, though I saw her hand absently brush the skin where I'd
touched her.
"Look, I'd better go!" I said, thumbing toward the exit. "I gotta find
my friend Julie. Again, I'm sorry about the mistake!" Heart-in-mouth I
dashed outside to the lonely concrete post where I'd shackled my
mountain bike. I took a moment to morph back into my own shape and then
pedaled back home as fast as my legs could take me.
I almost never made it. My limbs were shaking from the adrenalin rush
of what I'd just done. And then there was the imprint of the woman's
body, which was beginning to fill my senses.
It's hard to articulate how an imprint feels. It's like a new sense, a
spectral memory of a body shape on the edge of my consciousness. On
that bike ride I could feel the outline of this woman's physical form
and it was making me horny. My dick was so hard I could barely pedal.
This was different from the guy forms I'd impressed. Almost as if it
could touch them my mind could make out the fleshy physicality of
breasts, the curve of a waist and an unfamiliar space between my
thighs. It's a wonder I didn't orgasm in my shorts.
Back in the house, I ran thumpety-thump upstairs and locked myself in
the antiseptic privacy of the bathroom. I stripped in a hurry, clumsily
hurling off shoes, shirt and pants until they were strewn across the
floor. Then my hands, on autopilot, pushed down my shorts and began to
stroke and jerk my dick, which was hard, hot and sleek. I felt an urge
to ejaculate before I transformed. But the weight of the strange,
feminine imprint on my psyche was too great. My mind kept flicking to
the ghostly sensations of tits, ass and clit. The feeling of male
orgasm began to build, but I couldn't stop the deep desire to change
from overwhelming me. Just as I was about to come I began to morph and
my penis shrunk back out of my hands. I was suddenly robbed of my
ability to orgasm, leaving a momentary ache where my balls had been. In
seconds, I was all woman, standing naked save for the shorts pooling
around my ankles. In the bathroom mirror I could see a bloom of sweat
across my heaving chest while the hand that had held my dick now
grasped at empty air in front of my pussy.
Not for the first time I was to discover that there's a disjoint
between looking at a pretty girl and actually occupying her body. This
is especially true when your only experience of hot women comes from
airbrushed photos on the internet. There's a rude reality you have to
face up to. This close I could see the myriad tiny flaws of a real
woman's form. I had fine hairs on my arms, enlarged pores on my skin,
tiny wrinkles near my eyes and a barely perceptible bend in my nose,
along with a dozen other irritating defects. Already my long, dark hair
was wandering into my face to itch and scratch at my nose and my hands
rose up to flick it away with long-nailed fingers.
Suddenly I was aware of padding in places that were unfamiliar. My ass
and thighs felt unusually plump, as if the world around my tuchas began
a long way away. Then there was the mass of flesh tugging at my chest
muscles. I had breasts that were big, but without a bra to hold them
they just sagged back against my body and looked uneven, one larger
than the other.
My cans were nothing like the firm mountains I'd imagined they'd be.
They shivered like jello and yielded to the slightest touch. A tracery
of veins tracked across a skin that blazed with pale bikini triangles.
My hands mashed my boobs then lifted them, feeling their heft and
fleshy weight. Something carnal stirred in my chest and crotch as
fingernails brushed the hardening blobs of my redcurrant nipples and
their large surrounds. It was different from a hard-on. This arousal
was more like a heavy heat that made my skin more sensitive, that made
me conscious of the secret new spaces inside of me.
Suddenly the flaws didn't matter any more and my hands were all over my
body. It was almost like I didn't have enough fingers to stroke, touch
and pinch at all the parts of my new physique. Playing with my breasts
was sensational, feeling a horny thrill prickle back from behind the
teats and make its way to my cootchie, which became tremendously wet. I
hadn't anticipated how rapidly this warmth and moistness in my loins
would build. My face flushed and I felt as if I was starting to glow.
As the excitement increased I caressed my flat belly, with its firm
abs, and cupped the swell of my ass. It was a lovely peach-skinned
behind, soft and satisfyingly round.
And then, after exploring the slick sensitivity of my inner thighs,
which staggered me and almost made me fall on the floor, I began to
quest at the soft folds of skin around my vagina. I was about to slip
one nailed finger gingerly in to the hot wetness when a voice from
downstairs rose up and drenched me like a cold shower. It was Mom
calling me down for lunch. I cursed a streak in a soft soprano and then
stood there, staring angrily around the spotless expanse of the
bathroom. The spell was broken and the exquisite sexual heat of my
girl-body was cooling. Reluctantly, I focused for long enough to shift
back to my own shape, feeling its bony angles develop and my balls
drop. I felt a deep resentment at having to give up the exotic
experience of being a woman and return to my original form. I wiped
myself where girl-juices had dripped a slick, solitary trail down the
inside of one thigh, then got dressed and went downstairs to a
miserable meal.
From that day on I would have to hunt for private moments to explore my
feminine form. Often this was at night when I was safe in bed and the
house was suspended in sleep. In the stillness, with the warm urban
nightlight filtering through the blinds, I'd transform beneath the
sheets. My skinny awkwardness would subside and swell into supple
curves, reshaping the bedclothes. My head would suddenly be pillowed by
a mass of soft hair.
I'd lay there for a while, absorbing the new rhythms, the breathing and
heartbeat, of this limber body. I'd taste my sweet saliva and explore
my perfect, regular teeth with my tongue. Then slowly, in an act of
seduction, I'd start to play with myself in the dark. Slim hands would
flutter across my breasts as they puddled on my chest. Fingers would
delicately pluck at my sweet teats, teasing them rigid and making my
body writhe in response before my hand slid down across my belly and a
ragged thatch of pubic hair to reach the entrance to my vulva. There,
sliding into the folds of flesh, I was able to explore the hot
moistness, hunt out my clitoris and press it to make my back arch. Then
I'd enjoy the sensation of my fingers inside of me. I liked to withdraw
a wet digit and taste myself; lapping with my tongue at the hot musk of
my sex.
The first time I climaxed it was difficult to keep the noise down and I
lay in bed, gasping, feeling buzzy and blissed out. It was nothing like
the urgent surge of my male orgasms. This was more like a tide, a rise
and fall of sensation and emotion. Exhausted, I dozed off, still
encased in a female body. I was fortunate not to be discovered before I
woke and could change back.
I kept this pattern of exploration up for almost two weeks, excited by
my female shape and entranced by its otherness. I'd lock myself in my
room all evening, enjoying the experience of being a woman. I felt more
relaxed in this form, and was becoming increasingly comfortable with
it. As the sensation of breasts and vagina became familiar, I started
to appreciate the rest of what I thought of as my 'Julie body'. I loved
the line formed by my slim waist and broad hips, and the way my center
of gravity seemed to shift downwards. I admired the shapliness of my
legs and how even the back of my knees seemed to be an erogenous zone.
I would spend some evenings playing World of Warcraft in my Julie
shape, typing chat messages to friends. They couldn't see me, of
course. They didn't realize that I was now a hottie, sitting at a
screen clad only in a bathrobe, a stray boob just poking out from
behind the towelling. That gave me a secret thrill for as long as it
lasted, but I'd always have to change back whenever we raided, as our
guild used voice chat to communicate. I contemplated creating a new
game account, a new identity in which I could be a woman all the time,
and I wondered how differently my friends would respond to a girl's
voice.
Now I could turn into a sexy girl at will, I became obsessed with
clothing and tried to see how much of my wardrobe would fit a figure
that was shorter, but curved in new places. I pulled on a T-shirt that
squashed my chest flat, then fondled my boobs through the taut fabric.
That was so arousing that I tried my swimming briefs on. They stretched
pleasingly over the plumpness of my ass but bunched into unsightly
folds at the crotch. At least there was plenty of space there to reach
a hand inside and rub my vajayjay.
My boy clothes were all the wrong cut and didn't feel comfortable or
sexy enough. I wondered what it felt like to try on some women's
clothing. One Saturday afternoon, while my parents were visiting a
distant uncle, I stayed home and nervously snuck into the sacred space
of my mother's wardrobe. Mom was in her late thirties and, my friends
reckoned, had kept her looks. Amongst the racks of clothes I found
something that I thought I could squeeze my girl form into.
I took it down from its hanger, a simple knee-length dress with a
conservative floral pattern. I stripped nude, unzipped the back and
stepped into it, feeling a thrill as I pulled it up. The dress slid up
my legs, but then got stuck at my ass. I had to spend a few minutes
working my curves into it, inch by inch. By the time I'd managed, with
some effort, to zip it (mostly) up the back, everything felt
constricted and fit to burst. I could barely move for fear of something
ripping.
I found Mom's shoes in the wardrobe and was disappointed to find, after
forcing my feet into a pair of pumps, that they pinched badly. I stood
in front of the mirror, wrapped too tight to move, my bust squashed to
overflowing while wobbling precariously on Mom's heels. I was not
comfortable, and yet the whole experience of dressing as a woman made
the experience more thrilling, more sexy. I was turned on by the sight
of myself in a dress. When I clutched my breasts through the fabric my
body responded with strong arousal, straining at the confining apparel.
There was no way I could diddle myself like this, so I levered off the
dressâ€"an operation as difficult as getting it onâ€"and looked for what
else I could try. Mom's underwear drawer netted a pair of silky panties
that stretched satisfyingly over my smooth behind. I was disappointed
to find that her bras were far too small for my capacious chest, but in
another drawer I found a striped bikini top that could just about be
made to fit, though it barely cupped my boobs
So in this mismatched outfit of bikini bra, panties and two-inch pumps,
I flopped onto my parents' bed and began to touch myself. I was now
expert in arousing my girl-body. I swiftly felt the wetness come and
then rammed my hand down the sheer front of Mom's underwear to start
the gentle stirring and flicking that would bring me to climax.
This shape was addictive. But there was something else, besides the
erotic sensation of girl flesh, that brought me back to this body. I
was now an attractive woman. I felt desirable. Who would reject someone
who looked at hot as me? People would at last pay me the attention I
never received as a guy.
I climaxed and lay panting, legs akimbo on the bed. The bikini bra was
askew on my chest, the panties were pushed down across my thighs and
those too-tight high heels dug into the bedcover. I must have looked a
mess. As I lay in the afterglow I contemplated going out dressed as a
woman, but I hadn't the guts and I had nothing that fitted.
Days passed and I soon discovered a new limitation of my powers. So
long as the imprint remained fresh, the change was easy. When I
transformed each night I retained a pristine memory of the body shape.
It would even retain changes from the night before, such as the time I
tried shaving my pubic hair, creating a stubbly patch and a couple of
small razor nicks that reappeared each time I changed.
However, if I didn't change into a form regularly, its imprint would
degrade. School and chores and late nights hanging with my friends
online in World of Warcraft finally got the better of me. Exhausted, I
began to go straight to sleep without changing as soon as I hit the
hay. So when, after skipping a couple of nights, I tried to shapeshift
again I realized that my memory of 'Julie' had partially faded.
I focussed on the imprint and felt the usual tingle of morphing, but
the result petered out into an incomplete change. It felt all wrong.
When I stripped and looked in the mirror I appeared to be half man and
half woman. I checked my face and it was partly feminized with Julie's
and nose and the mass of her soft hair framing my features. Though my
hips had widened and my ass had swelled into its familiar proportions,
my waist was still thick and below the abdomen my genitals remained
male, though shriveled and weeny. My narrow chest sported a pair of
tiny, pointed mounds like those of a pubescent girl.
I tried to play with this androgynous physique, but it didn't function
properly. My unfilled breasts ached slightly, as if in
growing pains, and rubbing them only made them sore. It took an age to
bring my tiny dick and balls to climax. It was really difficult to jerk
myself when my penis was so small. At the moment I came barely anything
came out and the pleasure it gave was miniscule and unsatisfying.
The realization that I'd lost the woman's imprint was like a
bereavement. I had become accustomed to that body's comfort and poise
and cursed myself for letting it disappear. I'd never find that woman
again and so I sulked for a day, wondering what to do. Then I resolved
to search for some new bodies to replace hers. I picked out the most
attractive girls in my classes and found ways to imprint them without
getting too touchy-feely. I could now handle three imprints without
much distraction. It wasn't long before I had a new parade of imprinted
shapes. I could feel their exotic forms at the edges of my
consciousness.
With three girl bodies stored safely away my nights became a carnival
of solo sex, enjoyed between the sheets of my bed. The experience of
wearing the new bodies was mind-blowing.
The first shape I tried on was that of a girl named Tani. She was an
ash blonde with a nondescript, almost homely face, but her incredible
curves meant she was much in demand with the boys. It took a gentle
touch of her hand in class to capture her form. Back at home when I
changed bodies that first time I had the brief sensation of feeling
inflated, like a Michelin man. As I adjusted to the shift of fleshy
ballast my sense of balance was thrown. Then I looked in the mirror to
check myself out. Tani possessed a fabulous hourglass with a broad
carriage and heavy breasts sagging down her ribcage, aureoles like
bruised circles.
It didn't take long to put Tani's nimble fingers to work, exploring and
circumnavigating my new frame. Tani was not fat, but her voluptuousness
was such that transitioning from my lean male body to hers was like
being zippered into a padded suit. I began to play with my tits, which
hung like ripe eggplants from my chest, but found they were less
sensitive than in my last girl body. The doughy masses seemed to get in
the way when I moved and were hot and a little uncomfortable. However,
as my hands slid down below the slight swell of my/Tani's belly, I
discovered her vulva. Even before I could enter myself, I felt
something dilate and in moments I was in flood. Tani's clit was a
beautiful instrument to play with; a sleek knot of nerve-endings that
slipped beneath my fingers. Its responses were so acute that in my
nocturnal explorations I had to be careful not to moan as I stroked and
worked it towards a climax. My middle finger sucked and popped as I
thrust it in and out of Tani's, no MY wet vagina. I worked it hard
with rapid little motions, tension brewing until I crested the wave and
came. In Tani's body orgasms were vast and emotional, washing over me
in great beach-breakers, leaving me quietly sobbing, unable to staunch
the tears.
Over the days that followed I kept coming back to Tani's pillowy form.
Her pussy became mine each night and it had me entranced. I began to
use bananas, whisked from the fruit bowl, as improvised dildos,
slipping them between my lips then pushing them gently and deeper
inside until the sensation was so great I could barely breathe. Jerking
the fruit back and forwards in my vagina I seemed to discover new
spots. These broadcast dizzying thrills that made my limbs jerk and my
hips squirm. Here was a luxurious body that screamed for sex. It was a
peak I needed to come down from.
By contrast with Tani, Shelley was a slender, apple-cheeked girl with
the beautiful, elastic body of a ballerina. In class I had fallen for
her smiling eyes and toothsome grin, framed by a bob of dark hair. It
took a momentary touch when handing her a book to steal her imprint.
When I morphed into Shelley's frisky form I discovered she had the most
amazing boobs. They were small, high and barely needed any support.
They came with delightful cherry nipples that, when aroused, broadcast
intense pleasure. Immediately after changing I would rub my body
against my bed so that my tiny teats would begin to buzz.
It was the closest thing I'd yet tried to my male shape: an energetic
body with a boyish figure that was tight, taut and toned. Shelley had
shaved her pussy and it was lovely to slip my finger into her snug,
moist vagina and tenderly quest for pleasure. It was as Shelley that I
discovered how different women's bodies could be from each other. Her
clitoris was a fleshy bean that needed careful caressing. Orgasms were
less overwhelming than in Tani's form. Rather, they were like sharp
peaks of erotic sensation coursing from tip to toe and winding back up
between my legs. But unlike Tani, where each climax would leave me
spent and emotionally wrecked, as Shelley I could rouse myself to
consecutive orgasms, and often did.
I developed a new masturbation technique in Shelley's body. I would
bring myself close to climax and then change back to my boy form.
Suddenly my dick would rear up, aroused and coated in Shelley's girl
juices. With a few slick jerks of my hand I would orgasm, spurting
thick ropes of semen onto my stomach. Immediately I would change back
into a girl and lay there, cum pooling on my baby-soft belly, using my
fingers to rub the sour-smelling semen up onto my tiny
boobs, where I'd lubricate the tips. I once even tried a taste and
found it wasn't that bad. I briefly fantasized about making Shelley's
body pregnant with my own seed, until cold reality dawned and made me
drop the idea like a lead anvil. I had no idea of what havoc pregnancy
would play with my power and I feared getting stuck in that form.
The last of the trio of imprints was that of Lita, a beautiful Asian
girl with a heart-shaped face and full, kissable lips. It was odd to
look in the mirror and, with a finger, gently trace the sharp
epicanthic fold above my dark brown eyes. Her body was well
proportioned, with elegant lines and shapely legs.
Lita's chest was a modest pair of ice cream scoops, with up-tilted
nipples. But I found her boobs thrilling to fondle and they felt
comfortable in a way that Tani's enormous knockers had not. Again, the
response to sex felt different than in my other shapes. In this lithe
body my orgasms were relaxing releases of nervous energy that made me
want to sink into drowsy torpor.
The best thing about Lita was that she was the same height and slim
shape as my mother. I waited until my folks went away again before I
stole once more into my parents' bedroom to play with Mom's clothes.
Naked, I slipped on a pair of four-inch pumps and discovered that Lita
could wear Mom's shoes. With a little practice I could walk in them
comfortably, my trim fanny figure-eighting as I strolled across the
room. Mom's bras were just the right size to pack my perky bosom into
and I soon found myself encased in an underwired lace brassiere and
matching panties. I felt so hot and sexy it was all I could do to stop
myself dancing.
Dresses, pants and blouses fitted perfectly and I spent an exciting day
dressing up. I learned to walk in a skirt, which felt so strange
compared to pants. I marveled at the sheerness of a peach color silk
teddy sliding against my skin. I admired myself in a side-tie bikini
while still wearing those shiny heels that seemed to elongate my nice
legs even further. I put on a black party frock and paraded up and down
the bedroom, feeling it swish around me. I knew I had here a wardrobe I
could go out in, even if it was for someone a little older.
With three bodies at my command this was the happy time. I was sorta
getting sex, even if it was by masturbating. I would change two or
three times every night to keep the imprint of each girl-shape fresh.
The power did wonders for my self-esteem and I found that even in my
male body I was beginning to act more confident and assertive in
company.
"The first time it happened was when I shapechanged into a friend by
accident," I admitted, reluctantly.
"How did that happen?" asked Jo. She was starting to relax a little,
her head canted slightly so that her wavy red hair draped languidly
into her face. She'd taken her goggles off since the fight, revealing
eyes that were large, gray-tinted and beautiful. They were familiar.
I'd once looked through those eyes and I remembered the crystal clarity
of their vision. "Was it some kind of big, colorful manifestation?" she
insisted.
"No, nothing like that." I stopped to clear my throat before going on.
"Only I knew anything had happened. I was hanging with my pal and just
patted them on the shoulder, all friendly. Then there was this 'zap'
feeling as I touched them, like a small electric shock. Suddenly I
could feel their shape in my head. It was like I held the blueprints
for their body in my mind. It made me feel weird. I didn't actually
shapechange properly until later. Not 'til I got home."
There was a lot I'd left out of this description. The friend had been
Bill, my bud at school. He's a smart, funny guy. Good grades. Good
enough at sports and the social round to be at the centre of several
circles. He hung with the nerd crowd and played in our World of
Warcraft clan. He was our natural leader and the organizer of many
online raids and stunts.
That time I'd felt the zap, the experience had left me feeling so
queasy and sick that I crawled home, leaving Bill at the arcade where
we'd been hanging. I stumbled into my bed complaining of a stomachache
and asked Mom to stop fussing and leave me alone. I dozed off and when
I woke up I was in Bill's body--or at least a copy of it--looking
through his eyes and breathing his air.
"Who was this friend of yours?" Jo asked, trying to gently lever her
way past my defenses. I licked my dry lips and tried to fend her off.
"Can we leave my friends out of it, Jo?" I briefly felt assertive and
defensive of my privacy. "They have nothing to do with this. I
discovered I could touch people and get an impression of their form
from the physical contact. Once it was in my head I could change into
that imprinted form and back again."
Jo wisely let it drop. "Did you use the power much once you'd mastered
it?"
"Uh, yeah. I experimented."
Yes, I experimented. A lot.
Of course, there was Bill's body at first. I wasn't really sure how I
had come to change, and after the initial panic it was a while before I
realized that my mind seemed to hold imprints of my old and new bodies.
I could focus on the ghostly shape there and swap between his body and
mine as easy as moving from one train of thought to another. It didn't
take more than five or six seconds to transform and it was painless. My
entire body would bubble with a weird energy, then it would flow and
gel into the new shape and become solid again.
I soon discovered the power's first limitation. It didn't work on
clothes, leaving me wearing whatever I had on before the change. That
would be a source of occasional embarrassment in the times to come.
As Bill it was disconcerting to have his bulk, his muscle, his senses,
and even his man-parts. Yeah, that felt icky at first. But once I felt
comfortable shifting back and forth between forms I test-drove his
body. I was impressed by how different a climax felt; it seemed to go
on longer than in my own physique.
All this, of course, was in secret, in the warm privacy of my bedroom
or the shower; anywhere my parents couldn't see me. There was no way I
was going to tell Mom or Pop about this and I was never going to admit
amything to Bill.
I spent a week trying to figure out the power, trying to master it. I
wondered if it was a one-off so I tried imprinting other friends from
school. All it took was some handshakes and backslaps and I soon also
had the imprints of three other friends. Having four phantom shapes
floating at the back of my consciousness was distracting and made it
hard to concentrate. I was glad when, after a few days, they began to
fade away.
However, while I held their imprints each change catapulted me into an
exhilarating new world of sensation. Each body had its own signature
characteristics, slightly different from my own. John's vision had an
acuity that profoundly changed the way I looked at the universe. The
colors I saw through his eyes seemed so much more vibrant. Tanc was
blessed with sharp hearing and I could make out sounds and voices more
easily from the tumble of background noise, while Raul possessed a
sense of smell so fine that I could make out olfactory notes I never
knew existed.
There were other unexpected differences. Muscles stretched and twanged
in unfamiliar ways. John's body seemed more flexible than the others
while in Raul's form my hands felt pudgy and clumsy. Tanc's legs seemed
so long compared to my own that I kept stumbling as I walked. Shifts in
height or reach could be a minefield, as they changed my perception of
distances and space. Even mundane alterations could be striking. In
each body I had a different heartbeat, an alien breathing rhythm, the
altered tang of saliva in my mouth and the feel of a new set of teeth
against my tongue.
Practicing the changes I found I could control the imprinting so that
it didn't happen on every physical contact. The transformations were
coming easy now and the overwhelming rush of the impressions didn't
make me feel sick like the first time.
I felt I was ready to try the biggest change yet. I wanted to become a
girl.
This was something I didn't want to mention to Jo. This was all about
sex, okay? Pure gratification. I was this lanky geek, a horny teen
who'd never dated yet was forced to swim in the hormone-charged
environment of high school. I felt I was missing what other guys at
school seemed to be getting, and that was pussy.
But now I could change my physical form to whomever I was able to touch
and imprint. Who needed to date a woman if you could become one? This
fever dream began to exterminate all rational thought. I started to
fantasize about transforming into a hot chick and checking myself out.
As soon as the idea of changing into a girl began to careen across my
imagination, I began to form a plan. I wanted to become someone foxy-
looking, of course. By a shaky process of logic I concluded that I
should imprint a person I'd never met and who didn't know me. So I set
my trap at the Mall.
If this sounds like stalkerish behavior, well, I plead that this was a
victimless crime. I wasn't going to attack anyone, just touch them for
a moment, imprint their physical pattern and then I'd be gone. However,
I didn't want any awkward questions, so to disguise myself I changed
into John's tall, rangy body. His was the closest shape to mine, I
wasn't too clumsy in it and I could wear the same clothes in both
forms. I biked down to the Mall and hung about the marble air-
conditioned concourse, watching people walk by and rating the women on
a one to ten scale.
It took a while to find the right subject. Most of the women were too
old or too young, too fat or thin. There were lumpen women, saggy
women, girls with lived-in faces. There were some who looked great at a
distance and as they walked closer did not look so hot. And there were
some who were pretty, but not pretty enough. I had this great power and
arrogantly felt I could afford to pick and choose.
Eventually I saw what I wanted: she was definitely a nine out of ten, a
lovely brunette with lustrous, shoulder-length hair. The woman was a
twenty-something, with an oval face and dazzling eyes that were kissed
with a dash of green. She had a small, straight nose and a generous
mouth with inviting lips. Her figure was slim-waisted and wide-hipped,
with what looked like shapely legs beneath her pants, and she wore a
stretch top that barely contained her generous breasts. I watched them
move as she did, bobbing in sympathy with her walk. The woman's well-
tanned arms were bare, which was ideal for me to make contact, and she
was alone, window shopping outside the chic clothes stores with a bag
swinging from her shoulder. Heart in my mouth I approached her from the
side.
"Hi Julie!" I said to her, all enthusiasm and bonhomie. I had no idea
who Julie was; it was the first name that came to mind. I lightly
touched the woman's arm, just long enough to feel the zap and rush of
the imprint. Startled, her head snapped to look at me, hair whirling
and mouth open. I was momentarily transfixed; she looked really
beautiful. But before she could say anything I immediately launched
into an apology. "Oh, I'm so sorry," I said, backing out of her
personal space. "From a distance I thought you were my friend. My bad,
I'm real sorry."
"No, uh, it's okay," she said and gave an embarrassed laugh. Her voice
was light and friendly. She hadn't felt the imprint process. None of
them ever do, though I saw her hand absently brush the skin where I'd
touched her.
"Look, I'd better go!" I said, thumbing toward the exit. "I gotta find
my friend Julie. Again, I'm sorry about the mistake!" Heart-in-mouth I
dashed outside to the lonely concrete post where I'd shackled my
mountain bike. I took a moment to morph back into my own shape and then
pedaled back home as fast as my legs could take me.
I almost never made it. My limbs were shaking from the adrenalin rush
of what I'd just done. And then there was the imprint of the woman's
body, which was beginning to fill my senses.
It's hard to articulate how an imprint feels. It's like a new sense, a
spectral memory of a body shape on the edge of my consciousness. On
that bike ride I could feel the outline of this woman's physical form
and it was making me horny. My dick was so hard I could barely pedal.
This was different from the guy forms I'd impressed. Almost as if it
could touch them my mind could make out the fleshy physicality of
breasts, the curve of a waist and an unfamiliar space between my
thighs. It's a wonder I didn't orgasm in my shorts.
Back in the house, I ran thumpety-thump upstairs and locked myself in
the antiseptic privacy of the bathroom. I stripped in a hurry, clumsily
hurling off shoes, shirt and pants until they were strewn across the
floor. Then my hands, on autopilot, pushed down my shorts and began to
stroke and jerk my dick, which was hard, hot and sleek. I felt an urge
to ejaculate before I transformed. But the weight of the strange,
feminine imprint on my psyche was too great. My mind kept flicking to
the ghostly sensations of tits, ass and clit. The feeling of male
orgasm began to build, but I couldn't stop the deep desire to change
from overwhelming me. Just as I was about to come I began to morph and
my penis shrunk back out of my hands. I was suddenly robbed of my
ability to orgasm, leaving a momentary ache where my balls had been. In
seconds, I was all woman, standing naked save for the shorts pooling
around my ankles. In the bathroom mirror I could see a bloom of sweat
across my heaving chest while the hand that had held my dick now
grasped at empty air in front of my pussy.
Not for the first time I was to discover that there's a disjoint
between looking at a pretty girl and actually occupying her body. This
is especially true when your only experience of hot women comes from
airbrushed photos on the internet. There's a rude reality you have to
face up to. This close I could see the myriad tiny flaws of a real
woman's form. I had fine hairs on my arms, enlarged pores on my skin,
tiny wrinkles near my eyes and a barely perceptible bend in my nose,
along with a dozen other irritating defects. Already my long, dark hair
was wandering into my face to itch and scratch at my nose and my hands
rose up to flick it away with long-nailed fingers.
Suddenly I was aware of padding in places that were unfamiliar. My ass
and thighs felt unusually plump, as if the world around my tuchas began
a long way away. Then there was the mass of flesh tugging at my chest
muscles. I had breasts that were big, but without a bra to hold them
they just sagged back against my body and looked uneven, one larger
than the other.
My cans were nothing like the firm mountains I'd imagined they'd be.
They shivered like jello and yielded to the slightest touch. A tracery
of veins tracked across a skin that blazed with pale bikini triangles.
My hands mashed my boobs then lifted them, feeling their heft and
fleshy weight. Something carnal stirred in my chest and crotch as
fingernails brushed the hardening blobs of my redcurrant nipples and
their large surrounds. It was different from a hard-on. This arousal
was more like a heavy heat that made my skin more sensitive, that made
me conscious of the secret new spaces inside of me.
Suddenly the flaws didn't matter any more and my hands were all over my
body. It was almost like I didn't have enough fingers to stroke, touch
and pinch at all the parts of my new physique. Playing with my breasts
was sensational, feeling a horny thrill prickle back from behind the
teats and make its way to my cootchie, which became tremendously wet. I
hadn't anticipated how rapidly this warmth and moistness in my loins
would build. My face flushed and I felt as if I was starting to glow.
As the excitement increased I caressed my flat belly, with its firm
abs, and cupped the swell of my ass. It was a lovely peach-skinned
behind, soft and satisfyingly round.
And then, after exploring the slick sensitivity of my inner thighs,
which staggered me and almost made me fall on the floor, I began to
quest at the soft folds of skin around my vagina. I was about to slip
one nailed finger gingerly in to the hot wetness when a voice from
downstairs rose up and drenched me like a cold shower. It was Mom
calling me down for lunch. I cursed a streak in a soft soprano and then
stood there, staring angrily around the spotless expanse of the
bathroom. The spell was broken and the exquisite sexual heat of my
girl-body was cooling. Reluctantly, I focused for long enough to shift
back to my own shape, feeling its bony angles develop and my balls
drop. I felt a deep resentment at having to give up the exotic
experience of being a woman and return to my original form. I wiped
myself where girl-juices had dripped a slick, solitary trail down the
inside of one thigh, then got dressed and went downstairs to a
miserable meal.
From that day on I would have to hunt for private moments to explore my
feminine form. Often this was at night when I was safe in bed and the
house was suspended in sleep. In the stillness, with the warm urban
nightlight filtering through the blinds, I'd transform beneath the
sheets. My skinny awkwardness would subside and swell into supple
curves, reshaping the bedclothes. My head would suddenly be pillowed by
a mass of soft hair.
I'd lay there for a while, absorbing the new rhythms, the breathing and
heartbeat, of this limber body. I'd taste my sweet saliva and explore
my perfect, regular teeth with my tongue. Then slowly, in an act of
seduction, I'd start to play with myself in the dark. Slim hands would
flutter across my breasts as they puddled on my chest. Fingers would
delicately pluck at my sweet teats, teasing them rigid and making my
body writhe in response before my hand slid down across my belly and a
ragged thatch of pubic hair to reach the entrance to my vulva. There,
sliding into the folds of flesh, I was able to explore the hot
moistness, hunt out my clitoris and press it to make my back arch. Then
I'd enjoy the sensation of my fingers inside of me. I liked to withdraw
a wet digit and taste myself; lapping with my tongue at the hot musk of
my sex.
The first time I climaxed it was difficult to keep the noise down and I
lay in bed, gasping, feeling buzzy and blissed out. It was nothing like
the urgent surge of my male orgasms. This was more like a tide, a rise
and fall of sensation and emotion. Exhausted, I dozed off, still
encased in a female body. I was fortunate not to be discovered before I
woke and could change back.
I kept this pattern of exploration up for almost two weeks, excited by
my female shape and entranced by its otherness. I'd lock myself in my
room all evening, enjoying the experience of being a woman. I felt more
relaxed in this form, and was becoming increasingly comfortable with
it. As the sensation of breasts and vagina became familiar, I started
to appreciate the rest of what I thought of as my 'Julie body'. I loved
the line formed by my slim waist and broad hips, and the way my center
of gravity seemed to shift downwards. I admired the shapliness of my
legs and how even the back of my knees seemed to be an erogenous zone.
I would spend some evenings playing World of Warcraft in my Julie
shape, typing chat messages to friends. They couldn't see me, of
course. They didn't realize that I was now a hottie, sitting at a
screen clad only in a bathrobe, a stray boob just poking out from
behind the towelling. That gave me a secret thrill for as long as it
lasted, but I'd always have to change back whenever we raided, as our
guild used voice chat to communicate. I contemplated creating a new
game account, a new identity in which I could be a woman all the time,
and I wondered how differently my friends would respond to a girl's
voice.
Now I could turn into a sexy girl at will, I became obsessed with
clothing and tried to see how much of my wardrobe would fit a figure
that was shorter, but curved in new places. I pulled on a T-shirt that
squashed my chest flat, then fondled my boobs through the taut fabric.
That was so arousing that I tried my swimming briefs on. They stretched
pleasingly over the plumpness of my ass but bunched into unsightly
folds at the crotch. At least there was plenty of space there to reach
a hand inside and rub my vajayjay.
My boy clothes were all the wrong cut and didn't feel comfortable or
sexy enough. I wondered what it felt like to try on some women's
clothing. One Saturday afternoon, while my parents were visiting a
distant uncle, I stayed home and nervously snuck into the sacred space
of my mother's wardrobe. Mom was in her late thirties and, my friends
reckoned, had kept her looks. Amongst the racks of clothes I found
something that I thought I could squeeze my girl form into.
I took it down from its hanger, a simple knee-length dress with a
conservative floral pattern. I stripped nude, unzipped the back and
stepped into it, feeling a thrill as I pulled it up. The dress slid up
my legs, but then got stuck at my ass. I had to spend a few minutes
working my curves into it, inch by inch. By the time I'd managed, with
some effort, to zip it (mostly) up the back, everything felt
constricted and fit to burst. I could barely move for fear of something
ripping.
I found Mom's shoes in the wardrobe and was disappointed to find, after
forcing my feet into a pair of pumps, that they pinched badly. I stood
in front of the mirror, wrapped too tight to move, my bust squashed to
overflowing while wobbling precariously on Mom's heels. I was not
comfortable, and yet the whole experience of dressing as a woman made
the experience more thrilling, more sexy. I was turned on by the sight
of myself in a dress. When I clutched my breasts through the fabric my
body responded with strong arousal, straining at the confining apparel.
There was no way I could diddle myself like this, so I levered off the
dressâ€"an operation as difficult as getting it onâ€"and looked for what
else I could try. Mom's underwear drawer netted a pair of silky panties
that stretched satisfyingly over my smooth behind. I was disappointed
to find that her bras were far too small for my capacious chest, but in
another drawer I found a striped bikini top that could just about be
made to fit, though it barely cupped my boobs
So in this mismatched outfit of bikini bra, panties and two-inch pumps,
I flopped onto my parents' bed and began to touch myself. I was now
expert in arousing my girl-body. I swiftly felt the wetness come and
then rammed my hand down the sheer front of Mom's underwear to start
the gentle stirring and flicking that would bring me to climax.
This shape was addictive. But there was something else, besides the
erotic sensation of girl flesh, that brought me back to this body. I
was now an attractive woman. I felt desirable. Who would reject someone
who looked at hot as me? People would at last pay me the attention I
never received as a guy.
I climaxed and lay panting, legs akimbo on the bed. The bikini bra was
askew on my chest, the panties were pushed down across my thighs and
those too-tight high heels dug into the bedcover. I must have looked a
mess. As I lay in the afterglow I contemplated going out dressed as a
woman, but I hadn't the guts and I had nothing that fitted.
Days passed and I soon discovered a new limitation of my powers. So
long as the imprint remained fresh, the change was easy. When I
transformed each night I retained a pristine memory of the body shape.
It would even retain changes from the night before, such as the time I
tried shaving my pubic hair, creating a stubbly patch and a couple of
small razor nicks that reappeared each time I changed.
However, if I didn't change into a form regularly, its imprint would
degrade. School and chores and late nights hanging with my friends
online in World of Warcraft finally got the better of me. Exhausted, I
began to go straight to sleep without changing as soon as I hit the
hay. So when, after skipping a couple of nights, I tried to shapeshift
again I realized that my memory of 'Julie' had partially faded.
I focussed on the imprint and felt the usual tingle of morphing, but
the result petered out into an incomplete change. It felt all wrong.
When I stripped and looked in the mirror I appeared to be half man and
half woman. I checked my face and it was partly feminized with Julie's
and nose and the mass of her soft hair framing my features. Though my
hips had widened and my ass had swelled into its familiar proportions,
my waist was still thick and below the abdomen my genitals remained
male, though shriveled and weeny. My narrow chest sported a pair of
tiny, pointed mounds like those of a pubescent girl.
I tried to play with this androgynous physique, but it didn't function
properly. My adolescent, unfilled breasts ached slightly, as if in
growing pains, and rubbing them only made them sore. It took an age to
bring my tiny dick and balls to climax. It was really difficult to jerk
myself when my penis was so small. At the moment I came barely anything
came out and the pleasure it gave was miniscule and unsatisfying.
The realization that I'd lost the woman's imprint was like a
bereavement. I had become accustomed to that body's comfort and poise
and cursed myself for letting it disappear. I'd never find that woman
again and so I sulked for a day, wondering what to do. Then I resolved
to search for some new bodies to replace hers. I picked out the most
attractive girls in my classes and found ways to imprint them without
getting too touchy-feely. I could now handle three imprints without
much distraction. It wasn't long before I had a new parade of imprinted
shapes. I could feel their exotic forms at the edges of my
consciousness.
With three girl bodies stored safely away my nights became a carnival
of solo sex, enjoyed between the sheets of my bed. The experience of
wearing the new bodies was mind-blowing.
The first shape I tried on was that of a girl named Tani. She was an
ash blonde with a nondescript, almost homely face, but her incredible
curves meant she was much in demand with the boys. It took a gentle
touch of her hand in class to capture her form. Back at home when I
changed bodies that first time I had the brief sensation of feeling
inflated, like a Michelin man. As I adjusted to the shift of fleshy
ballast my sense of balance was thrown. Then I looked in the mirror to
check myself out. Tani possessed a fabulous hourglass with a broad
carriage and heavy breasts sagging down her ribcage, aureoles like
bruised circles.
It didn't take long to put Tani's nimble fingers to work, exploring and
circumnavigating my new frame. Tani was not fat, but her voluptuousness
was such that transitioning from my lean male body to hers was like
being zippered into a padded suit. I began to play with my tits, which
hung like ripe eggplants from my chest, but found they were less
sensitive than in my last girl body. The doughy masses seemed to get in
the way when I moved and were hot and a little uncomfortable. However,
as my hands slid down below the slight swell of my/Tani's belly, I
discovered her vulva. Even before I could enter myself, I felt
something dilate and in moments I was in flood. Tani's clit was a
beautiful instrument to play with; a sleek knot of nerve-endings that
slipped beneath my fingers. Its responses were so acute that in my
nocturnal explorations I had to be careful not to moan as I stroked and
worked it towards a climax. My middle finger sucked and popped as I
thrust it in and out of Tani's, no MY wet vagina. I worked it hard
with rapid little motions, tension brewing until I crested the wave and
came. In Tani's body orgasms were vast and emotional, washing over me
in great beach-breakers, leaving me quietly sobbing, unable to staunch
the tears.
Over the days that followed I kept coming back to Tani's pillowy form.
Her pussy became mine each night and it had me entranced. I began to
use bananas, whisked from the fruit bowl, as improvised dildos,
slipping them between my lips then pushing them gently and deeper
inside until the sensation was so great I could barely breathe. Jerking
the fruit back and forwards in my vagina I seemed to discover new
spots. These broadcast dizzying thrills that made my limbs jerk and my
hips squirm. Here was a luxurious body that screamed for sex. It was a
peak I needed to come down from.
By contrast with Tani, Shelley was a slender, apple-cheeked girl with
the beautiful, elastic body of a ballerina. In class I had fallen for
her smiling eyes and toothsome grin, framed by a bob of dark hair. It
took a momentary touch when handing her a book to steal her imprint.
When I morphed into Shelley's frisky form I discovered she had the most
amazing boobs. They were small, high and barely needed any support.
They came with delightful cherry nipples that, when aroused, broadcast
intense pleasure. Immediately after changing I would rub my body
against my bed so that my tiny teats would begin to buzz.
It was the closest thing I'd yet tried to my male shape: an energetic
body with a boyish figure that was tight, taut and toned. Shelley had
shaved her pussy and it was lovely to slip my finger into her snug,
moist vagina and tenderly quest for pleasure. It was as Shelley that I
discovered how different women's bodies could be from each other. Her
clitoris was a fleshy bean that needed careful caressing. Orgasms were
less overwhelming than in Tani's form. Rather, they were like sharp
peaks of erotic sensation coursing from tip to toe and winding back up
between my legs. But unlike Tani, where each climax would leave me
spent and emotionally wrecked, as Shelley I could rouse myself to
consecutive orgasms, and often did.
I developed a new masturbation technique in Shelley's body. I would
bring myself close to climax and then change back to my boy form.
Suddenly my dick would rear up, aroused and coated in Shelley's girl
juices. With a few slick jerks of my hand I would orgasm, spurting
thick ropes of semen onto my stomach. Immediately I would change back
into a girl and lay there, cum pooling on my baby-soft belly, using my
fingers to rub the sour-smelling semen up onto my tiny, schoolgirl
boobs, where I'd lubricate the tips. I once even tried a taste and
found it wasn't that bad. I briefly fantasized about making Shelley's
body pregnant with my own seed, until cold reality dawned and made me
drop the idea like a lead anvil. I had no idea of what havoc pregnancy
would play with my power and I feared getting stuck in that form.
The last of the trio of imprints was that of Lita, a beautiful Asian
girl with a heart-shaped face and full, kissable lips. It was odd to
look in the mirror and, with a finger, gently trace the sharp
epicanthic fold above my dark brown eyes. Her body was well
proportioned, with elegant lines and shapely legs.
Lita's chest was a modest pair of ice cream scoops, with up-tilted
nipples. But I found her boobs thrilling to fondle and they felt
comfortable in a way that Tani's enormous knockers had not. Again, the
response to sex felt different than in my other shapes. In this lithe
body my orgasms were relaxing releases of nervous energy that made me
want to sink into drowsy torpor.
The best thing about Lita was that she was the same height and slim
shape as my mother. I waited until my folks went away again before I
stole once more into my parents' bedroom to play with Mom's clothes.
Naked, I slipped on a pair of four-inch pumps and discovered that Lita
could wear Mom's shoes. With a little practice I could walk in them
comfortably, my trim fanny figure-eighting as I strolled across the
room. Mom's bras were just the right size to pack my perky bosom into
and I soon found myself encased in an underwired lace brassiere and
matching panties. I felt so hot and sexy it was all I could do to stop
myself dancing.
Dresses, pants and blouses fitted perfectly and I spent an exciting day
dressing up. I learned to walk in a skirt, which felt so strange
compared to pants. I marveled at the sheerness of a peach color silk
teddy sliding against my skin. I admired myself in a side-tie bikini
while still wearing those shiny heels that seemed to elongate my nice
legs even further. I put on a black party frock and paraded up and down
the bedroom, feeling it swish around me. I knew I had here a wardrobe I
could go out in, even if it was for someone a little older.
With three bodies at my command this was the happy time. I was sorta
getting sex, even if it was by masturbating. I would change two or
three times every night to keep the imprint of each girl-shape fresh.
The power did wonders for my self-esteem and I found that even in my
male body I was beginning to act more confident and assertive in
company.
Then one day my wish came true.
"The first time it happened was when I shapechanged into a friend by
accident," I admitted, reluctantly.
"How did that happen?" asked Jo. She was starting to relax a little,
her head canted slightly so that her wavy red hair draped languidly
into her face. She'd taken her goggles off since the fight, revealing
eyes that were large, gray-tinted and beautiful. They were familiar.
I'd once looked through those eyes and I remembered the crystal clarity
of their vision. "Was it some kind of big, colorful manifestation?" she
insisted.
"No, nothing like that." I stopped to clear my throat before going on.
"Only I knew anything had happened. I was hanging with my pal and just
patted them on the shoulder, all friendly. Then there was this 'zap'
feeling as I touched them, like a small electric shock. Suddenly I
could feel their shape in my head. It was like I held the blueprints
for their body in my mind. It made me feel weird. I didn't actually
shapechange properly until later. Not 'til I got home."
There was a lot I'd left out of this description. The friend had been
Bill, my bud at school. He's a smart, funny guy. Good grades. Good
enough at sports and the social round to be at the centre of several
circles. He hung with the nerd crowd and played in our World of
Warcraft clan. He was our natural leader and the organizer of many
online raids and stunts.
That time I'd felt the zap, the experience had left me feeling so
queasy and sick that I crawled home, leaving Bill at the arcade where
we'd been hanging. I stumbled into my bed complaining of a stomachache
and asked Mom to stop fussing and leave me alone. I dozed off and when
I woke up I was in Bill's body--or at least a copy of it--looking
through his eyes and breathing his air.
"Who was this friend of yours?" Jo asked, trying to gently lever her
way past my defenses. I licked my dry lips and tried to fend her off.
"Can we leave my friends out of it, Jo?" I briefly felt assertive and
defensive of my privacy. "They have nothing to do with this. I
discovered I could touch people and get an impression of their form
from the physical contact. Once it was in my head I could change into
that imprinted form and back again."
Jo wisely let it drop. "Did you use the power much once you'd mastered
it?"
"Uh, yeah. I experimented."
Yes, I experimented. A lot.
Of course, there was Bill's body at first. I wasn't really sure how I
had come to change, and after the initial panic it was a while before I
realized that my mind seemed to hold imprints of my old and new bodies.
I could focus on the ghostly shape there and swap between his body and
mine as easy as moving from one train of thought to another. It didn't
take more than five or six seconds to transform and it was painless. My
entire body would bubble with a weird energy, then it would flow and
gel into the new shape and become solid again.
I soon discovered the power's first limitation. It didn't work on
clothes, leaving me wearing whatever I had on before the change. That
would be a source of occasional embarrassment in the times to come.
As Bill it was disconcerting to have his bulk, his muscle, his senses,
and even his man-parts. Yeah, that felt icky at first. But once I felt
comfortable shifting back and forth between forms I test-drove his
body. I was impressed by how different a climax felt; it seemed to go
on longer than in my own physique.
All this, of course, was in secret, in the warm privacy of my bedroom
or the shower; anywhere my parents couldn't see me. There was no way I
was going to tell Mom or Pop about this and I was never going to admit
amything to Bill.
I spent a week trying to figure out the power, trying to master it. I
wondered if it was a one-off so I tried imprinting other friends from
school. All it took was some handshakes and backslaps and I soon also
had the imprints of three other friends. Having four phantom shapes
floating at the back of my consciousness was distracting and made it
hard to concentrate. I was glad when, after a few days, they began to
fade away.
However, while I held their imprints each change catapulted me into an
exhilarating new world of sensation. Each body had its own signature
characteristics, slightly different from my own. John's vision had an
acuity that profoundly changed the way I looked at the universe. The
colors I saw through his eyes seemed so much more vibrant. Tanc was
blessed with sharp hearing and I could make out sounds and voices more
easily from the tumble of background noise, while Raul possessed a
sense of smell so fine that I could make out olfactory notes I never
knew existed.
There were other unexpected differences. Muscles stretched and twanged
in unfamiliar ways. John's body seemed more flexible than the others
while in Raul's form my hands felt pudgy and clumsy. Tanc's legs seemed
so long compared to my own that I kept stumbling as I walked. Shifts in
height or reach could be a minefield, as they changed my perception of
distances and space. Even mundane alterations could be striking. In
each body I had a different heartbeat, an alien breathing rhythm, the
altered tang of saliva in my mouth and the feel of a new set of teeth
against my tongue.
Practicing the changes I found I could control the imprinting so that
it didn't happen on every physical contact. The transformations were
coming easy now and the overwhelming rush of the impressions didn't
make me feel sick like the first time.
I felt I was ready to try the biggest change yet. I wanted to become a
girl.
This was something I didn't want to mention to Jo. This was all about
sex, okay? Pure gratification. I was this lanky geek, a horny teen
who'd never dated yet was forced to swim in the hormone-charged
environment of high school. I felt I was missing what other guys at
school seemed to be getting, and that was pussy.
But now I could change my physical form to whomever I was able to touch
and imprint. Who needed to date a woman if you could become one? This
fever dream began to exterminate all rational thought. I started to
fantasize about transforming into a hot chick and checking myself out.
As soon as the idea of changing into a girl began to careen across my
imagination, I began to form a plan. I wanted to become someone foxy-
looking, of course. By a shaky process of logic I concluded that I
should imprint a person I'd never met and who didn't know me. So I set
my trap at the Mall.
If this sounds like stalkerish behavior, well, I plead that this was a
victimless crime. I wasn't going to attack anyone, just touch them for
a moment, imprint their physical pattern and then I'd be gone. However,
I didn't want any awkward questions, so to disguise myself I changed
into John's tall, rangy body. His was the closest shape to mine, I
wasn't too clumsy in it and I could wear the same clothes in both
forms. I biked down to the Mall and hung about the marble air-
conditioned concourse, watching people walk by and rating the women on
a one to ten scale.
It took a while to find the right subject. Most of the women were too
old or too young, too fat or thin. There were lumpen women, saggy
women, girls with lived-in faces. There were some who looked great at a
distance and as they walked closer did not look so hot. And there were
some who were pretty, but not pretty enough. I had this great power and
arrogantly felt I could afford to pick and choose.
Eventually I saw what I wanted: she was definitely a nine out of ten, a
lovely brunette with lustrous, shoulder-length hair. The woman was a
twenty-something, with an oval face and dazzling eyes that were kissed
with a dash of green. She had a small, straight nose and a generous
mouth with inviting lips. Her figure was slim-waisted and wide-hipped,
with what looked like shapely legs beneath her pants, and she wore a
stretch top that barely contained her generous breasts. I watched them
move as she did, bobbing in sympathy with her walk. The woman's well-
tanned arms were bare, which was ideal for me to make contact, and she
was alone, window shopping outside the chic clothes stores with a bag
swinging from her shoulder. Heart in my mouth I approached her from the
side.
"Hi Julie!" I said to her, all enthusiasm and bonhomie. I had no idea
who Julie was; it was the first name that came to mind. I lightly
touched the woman's arm, just long enough to feel the zap and rush of
the imprint. Startled, her head snapped to look at me, hair whirling
and mouth open. I was momentarily transfixed; she looked really
beautiful. But before she could say anything I immediately launched
into an apology. "Oh, I'm so sorry," I said, backing out of her
personal space. "From a distance I thought you were my friend. My bad,
I'm real sorry."
"No, uh, it's okay," she said and gave an embarrassed laugh. Her voice
was light and friendly. She hadn't felt the imprint process. None of
them ever do, though I saw her hand absently brush the skin where I'd
touched her.
"Look, I'd better go!" I said, thumbing toward the exit. "I gotta find
my friend Julie. Again, I'm sorry about the mistake!" Heart-in-mouth I
dashed outside to the lonely concrete post where I'd shackled my
mountain bike. I took a moment to morph back into my own shape and then
pedaled back home as fast as my legs could take me.
I almost never made it. My limbs were shaking from the adrenalin rush
of what I'd just done. And then there was the imprint of the woman's
body, which was beginning to fill my senses.
It's hard to articulate how an imprint feels. It's like a new sense, a
spectral memory of a body shape on the edge of my consciousness. On
that bike ride I could feel the outline of this woman's physical form
and it was making me horny. My dick was so hard I could barely pedal.
This was different from the guy forms I'd impressed. Almost as if it
could touch them my mind could make out the fleshy physicality of
breasts, the curve of a waist and an unfamiliar space between my
thighs. It's a wonder I didn't orgasm in my shorts.
Back in the house, I ran thumpety-thump upstairs and locked myself in
the antiseptic privacy of the bathroom. I stripped in a hurry, clumsily
hurling off shoes, shirt and pants until they were strewn across the
floor. Then my hands, on autopilot, pushed down my shorts and began to
stroke and jerk my dick, which was hard, hot and sleek. I felt an urge
to ejaculate before I transformed. But the weight of the strange,
feminine imprint on my psyche was too great. My mind kept flicking to
the ghostly sensations of tits, ass and clit. The feeling of male
orgasm began to build, but I couldn't stop the deep desire to change
from overwhelming me. Just as I was about to come I began to morph and
my penis shrunk back out of my hands. I was suddenly robbed of my
ability to orgasm, leaving a momentary ache where my balls had been. In
seconds, I was all woman, standing naked save for the shorts pooling
around my ankles. In the bathroom mirror I could see a bloom of sweat
across my heaving chest while the hand that had held my dick now
grasped at empty air in front of my pussy.
Not for the first time I was to discover that there's a disjoint
between looking at a pretty girl and actually occupying her body. This
is especially true when your only experience of hot women comes from
airbrushed photos on the internet. There's a rude reality you have to
face up to. This close I could see the myriad tiny flaws of a real
woman's form. I had fine hairs on my arms, enlarged pores on my skin,
tiny wrinkles near my eyes and a barely perceptible bend in my nose,
along with a dozen other irritating defects. Already my long, dark hair
was wandering into my face to itch and scratch at my nose and my hands
rose up to flick it away with long-nailed fingers.
Suddenly I was aware of padding in places that were unfamiliar. My ass
and thighs felt unusually plump, as if the world around my tuchas began
a long way away. Then there was the mass of flesh tugging at my chest
muscles. I had breasts that were big, but without a bra to hold them
they just sagged back against my body and looked uneven, one larger
than the other.
My cans were nothing like the firm mountains I'd imagined they'd be.
They shivered like jello and yielded to the slightest touch. A tracery
of veins tracked across a skin that blazed with pale bikini triangles.
My hands mashed my boobs then lifted them, feeling their heft and
fleshy weight. Something carnal stirred in my chest and crotch as
fingernails brushed the hardening blobs of my redcurrant nipples and
their large surrounds. It was different from a hard-on. This arousal
was more like a heavy heat that made my skin more sensitive, that made
me conscious of the secret new spaces inside of me.
Suddenly the flaws didn't matter any more and my hands were all over my
body. It was almost like I didn't have enough fingers to stroke, touch
and pinch at all the parts of my new physique. Playing with my breasts
was sensational, feeling a horny thrill prickle back from behind the
teats and make its way to my cootchie, which became tremendously wet. I
hadn't anticipated how rapidly this warmth and moistness in my loins
would build. My face flushed and I felt as if I was starting to glow.
As the excitement increased I caressed my flat belly, with its firm
abs, and cupped the swell of my ass. It was a lovely peach-skinned
behind, soft and satisfyingly round.
And then, after exploring the slick sensitivity of my inner thighs,
which staggered me and almost made me fall on the floor, I began to
quest at the soft folds of skin around my vagina. I was about to slip
one nailed finger gingerly in to the hot wetness when a voice from
downstairs rose up and drenched me like a cold shower. It was Mom
calling me down for lunch. I cursed a streak in a soft soprano and then
stood there, staring angrily around the spotless expanse of the
bathroom. The spell was broken and the exquisite sexual heat of my
girl-body was cooling. Reluctantly, I focused for long enough to shift
back to my own shape, feeling its bony angles develop and my balls
drop. I felt a deep resentment at having to give up the exotic
experience of being a woman and return to my original form. I wiped
myself where girl-juices had dripped a slick, solitary trail down the
inside of one thigh, then got dressed and went downstairs to a
miserable meal.
From that day on I would have to hunt for private moments to explore my
feminine form. Often this was at night when I was safe in bed and the
house was suspended in sleep. In the stillness, with the warm urban
nightlight filtering through the blinds, I'd transform beneath the
sheets. My skinny awkwardness would subside and swell into supple
curves, reshaping the bedclothes. My head would suddenly be pillowed by
a mass of soft hair.
I'd lay there for a while, absorbing the new rhythms, the breathing and
heartbeat, of this limber body. I'd taste my sweet saliva and explore
my perfect, regular teeth with my tongue. Then slowly, in an act of
seduction, I'd start to play with myself in the dark. Slim hands would
flutter across my breasts as they puddled on my chest. Fingers would
delicately pluck at my sweet teats, teasing them rigid and making my
body writhe in response before my hand slid down across my belly and a
ragged thatch of pubic hair to reach the entrance to my vulva. There,
sliding into the folds of flesh, I was able to explore the hot
moistness, hunt out my clitoris and press it to make my back arch. Then
I'd enjoy the sensation of my fingers inside of me. I liked to withdraw
a wet digit and taste myself; lapping with my tongue at the hot musk of
my sex.
The first time I climaxed it was difficult to keep the noise down and I
lay in bed, gasping, feeling buzzy and blissed out. It was nothing like
the urgent surge of my male orgasms. This was more like a tide, a rise
and fall of sensation and emotion. Exhausted, I dozed off, still
encased in a female body. I was fortunate not to be discovered before I
woke and could change back.
I kept this pattern of exploration up for almost two weeks, excited by
my female shape and entranced by its otherness. I'd lock myself in my
room all evening, enjoying the experience of being a woman. I felt more
relaxed in this form, and was becoming increasingly comfortable with
it. As the sensation of breasts and vagina became familiar, I started
to appreciate the rest of what I thought of as my 'Julie body'. I loved
the line formed by my slim waist and broad hips, and the way my center
of gravity seemed to shift downwards. I admired the shapliness of my
legs and how even the back of my knees seemed to be an erogenous zone.
I would spend some evenings playing World of Warcraft in my Julie
shape, typing chat messages to friends. They couldn't see me, of
course. They didn't realize that I was now a hottie, sitting at a
screen clad only in a bathrobe, a stray boob just poking out from
behind the towelling. That gave me a secret thrill for as long as it
lasted, but I'd always have to change back whenever we raided, as our
guild used voice chat to communicate. I contemplated creating a new
game account, a new identity in which I could be a woman all the time,
and I wondered how differently my friends would respond to a girl's
voice.
Now I could turn into a sexy girl at will, I became obsessed with
clothing and tried to see how much of my wardrobe would fit a figure
that was shorter, but curved in new places. I pulled on a T-shirt that
squashed my chest flat, then fondled my boobs through the taut fabric.
That was so arousing that I tried my swimming briefs on. They stretched
pleasingly over the plumpness of my ass but bunched into unsightly
folds at the crotch. At least there was plenty of space there to reach
a hand inside and rub my vajayjay.
My boy clothes were all the wrong cut and didn't feel comfortable or
sexy enough. I wondered what it felt like to try on some women's
clothing. One Saturday afternoon, while my parents were visiting a
distant uncle, I stayed home and nervously snuck into the sacred space
of my mother's wardrobe. Mom was in her late thirties and, my friends
reckoned, had kept her looks. Amongst the racks of clothes I found
something that I thought I could squeeze my girl form into.
I took it down from its hanger, a simple knee-length dress with a
conservative floral pattern. I stripped nude, unzipped the back and
stepped into it, feeling a thrill as I pulled it up. The dress slid up
my legs, but then got stuck at my ass. I had to spend a few minutes
working my curves into it, inch by inch. By the time I'd managed, with
some effort, to zip it (mostly) up the back, everything felt
constricted and fit to burst. I could barely move for fear of something
ripping.
I found Mom's shoes in the wardrobe and was disappointed to find, after
forcing my feet into a pair of pumps, that they pinched badly. I stood
in front of the mirror, wrapped too tight to move, my bust squashed to
overflowing while wobbling precariously on Mom's heels. I was not
comfortable, and yet the whole experience of dressing as a woman made
the experience more thrilling, more sexy. I was turned on by the sight
of myself in a dress. When I clutched my breasts through the fabric my
body responded with strong arousal, straining at the confining apparel.
There was no way I could diddle myself like this, so I levered off the
dressâ€"an operation as difficult as getting it onâ€"and looked for what
else I could try. Mom's underwear drawer netted a pair of silky panties
that stretched satisfyingly over my smooth behind. I was disappointed
to find that her bras were far too small for my capacious chest, but in
another drawer I found a striped bikini top that could just about be
made to fit, though it barely cupped my boobs
So in this mismatched outfit of bikini bra, panties and two-inch pumps,
I flopped onto my parents' bed and began to touch myself. I was now
expert in arousing my girl-body. I swiftly felt the wetness come and
then rammed my hand down the sheer front of Mom's underwear to start
the gentle stirring and flicking that would bring me to climax.
This shape was addictive. But there was something else, besides the
erotic sensation of girl flesh, that brought me back to this body. I
was now an attractive woman. I felt desirable. Who would reject someone
who looked at hot as me? People would at last pay me the attention I
never received as a guy.
I climaxed and lay panting, legs akimbo on the bed. The bikini bra was
askew on my chest, the panties were pushed down across my thighs and
those too-tight high heels dug into the bedcover. I must have looked a
mess. As I lay in the afterglow I contemplated going out dressed as a
woman, but I hadn't the guts and I had nothing that fitted.
Days passed and I soon discovered a new limitation of my powers. So
long as the imprint remained fresh, the change was easy. When I
transformed each night I retained a pristine memory of the body shape.
It would even retain changes from the night before, such as the time I
tried shaving my pubic hair, creating a stubbly patch and a couple of
small razor nicks that reappeared each time I changed.
However, if I didn't change into a form regularly, its imprint would
degrade. School and chores and late nights hanging with my friends
online in World of Warcraft finally got the better of me. Exhausted, I
began to go straight to sleep without changing as soon as I hit the
hay. So when, after skipping a couple of nights, I tried to shapeshift
again I realized that my memory of 'Julie' had partially faded.
I focussed on the imprint and felt the usual tingle of morphing, but
the result petered out into an incomplete change. It felt all wrong.
When I stripped and looked in the mirror I appeared to be half man and
half woman. I checked my face and it was partly feminized with Julie's
and nose and the mass of her soft hair framing my features. Though my
hips had widened and my ass had swelled into its familiar proportions,
my waist was still thick and below the abdomen my genitals remained
male, though shriveled and weeny. My narrow chest sported a pair of
tiny, pointed mounds like those of a pubescent girl.
I tried to play with this androgynous physique, but it didn't function
properly. My unfilled breasts ached slightly, as if in
growing pains, and rubbing them only made them sore. It took an age to
bring my tiny dick and balls to climax. It was really difficult to jerk
myself when my penis was so small. At the moment I came barely anything
came out and the pleasure it gave was miniscule and unsatisfying.
The realization that I'd lost the woman's imprint was like a
bereavement. I had become accustomed to that body's comfort and poise
and cursed myself for letting it disappear. I'd never find that woman
again and so I sulked for a day, wondering what to do. Then I resolved
to search for some new bodies to replace hers. I picked out the most
attractive girls in my classes and found ways to imprint them without
getting too touchy-feely. I could now handle three imprints without
much distraction. It wasn't long before I had a new parade of imprinted
shapes. I could feel their exotic forms at the edges of my
consciousness.
With three girl bodies stored safely away my nights became a carnival
of solo sex, enjoyed between the sheets of my bed. The experience of
wearing the new bodies was mind-blowing.
The first shape I tried on was that of a girl named Tani. She was an
ash blonde with a nondescript, almost homely face, but her incredible
curves meant she was much in demand with the boys. It took a gentle
touch of her hand in class to capture her form. Back at home when I
changed bodies that first time I had the brief sensation of feeling
inflated, like a Michelin man. As I adjusted to the shift of fleshy
ballast my sense of balance was thrown. Then I looked in the mirror to
check myself out. Tani possessed a fabulous hourglass with a broad
carriage and heavy breasts sagging down her ribcage, aureoles like
bruised circles.
It didn't take long to put Tani's nimble fingers to work, exploring and
circumnavigating my new frame. Tani was not fat, but her voluptuousness
was such that transitioning from my lean male body to hers was like
being zippered into a padded suit. I began to play with my tits, which
hung like ripe eggplants from my chest, but found they were less
sensitive than in my last girl body. The doughy masses seemed to get in
the way when I moved and were hot and a little uncomfortable. However,
as my hands slid down below the slight swell of my/Tani's belly, I
discovered her vulva. Even before I could enter myself, I felt
something dilate and in moments I was in flood. Tani's clit was a
beautiful instrument to play with; a sleek knot of nerve-endings that
slipped beneath my fingers. Its responses were so acute that in my
nocturnal explorations I had to be careful not to moan as I stroked and
worked it towards a climax. My middle finger sucked and popped as I
thrust it in and out of Tani's, no MY wet vagina. I worked it hard
with rapid little motions, tension brewing until I crested the wave and
came. In Tani's body orgasms were vast and emotional, washing over me
in great beach-breakers, leaving me quietly sobbing, unable to staunch
the tears.
Over the days that followed I kept coming back to Tani's pillowy form.
Her pussy became mine each night and it had me entranced. I began to
use bananas, whisked from the fruit bowl, as improvised dildos,
slipping them between my lips then pushing them gently and deeper
inside until the sensation was so great I could barely breathe. Jerking
the fruit back and forwards in my vagina I seemed to discover new
spots. These broadcast dizzying thrills that made my limbs jerk and my
hips squirm. Here was a luxurious body that screamed for sex. It was a
peak I needed to come down from.
By contrast with Tani, Shelley was a slender, apple-cheeked girl with
the beautiful, elastic body of a ballerina. In class I had fallen for
her smiling eyes and toothsome grin, framed by a bob of dark hair. It
took a momentary touch when handing her a book to steal her imprint.
When I morphed into Shelley's frisky form I discovered she had the most
amazing boobs. They were small, high and barely needed any support.
They came with delightful cherry nipples that, when aroused, broadcast
intense pleasure. Immediately after changing I would rub my body
against my bed so that my tiny teats would begin to buzz.
It was the closest thing I'd yet tried to my male shape: an energetic
body with a boyish figure that was tight, taut and toned. Shelley had
shaved her pussy and it was lovely to slip my finger into her snug,
moist vagina and tenderly quest for pleasure. It was as Shelley that I
discovered how different women's bodies could be from each other. Her
clitoris was a fleshy bean that needed careful caressing. Orgasms were
less overwhelming than in Tani's form. Rather, they were like sharp
peaks of erotic sensation coursing from tip to toe and winding back up
between my legs. But unlike Tani, where each climax would leave me
spent and emotionally wrecked, as Shelley I could rouse myself to
consecutive orgasms, and often did.
I developed a new masturbation technique in Shelley's body. I would
bring myself close to climax and then change back to my boy form.
Suddenly my dick would rear up, aroused and coated in Shelley's girl
juices. With a few slick jerks of my hand I would orgasm, spurting
thick ropes of semen onto my stomach. Immediately I would change back
into a girl and lay there, cum pooling on my baby-soft belly, using my
fingers to rub the sour-smelling semen up onto my tiny
boobs, where I'd lubricate the tips. I once even tried a taste and
found it wasn't that bad. I briefly fantasized about making Shelley's
body pregnant with my own seed, until cold reality dawned and made me
drop the idea like a lead anvil. I had no idea of what havoc pregnancy
would play with my power and I feared getting stuck in that form.
The last of the trio of imprints was that of Lita, a beautiful Asian
girl with a heart-shaped face and full, kissable lips. It was odd to
look in the mirror and, with a finger, gently trace the sharp
epicanthic fold above my dark brown eyes. Her body was well
proportioned, with elegant lines and shapely legs.
Lita's chest was a modest pair of ice cream scoops, with up-tilted
nipples. But I found her boobs thrilling to fondle and they felt
comfortable in a way that Tani's enormous knockers had not. Again, the
response to sex felt different than in my other shapes. In this lithe
body my orgasms were relaxing releases of nervous energy that made me
want to sink into drowsy torpor.
The best thing about Lita was that she was the same height and slim
shape as my mother. I waited until my folks went away again before I
stole once more into my parents' bedroom to play with Mom's clothes.
Naked, I slipped on a pair of four-inch pumps and discovered that Lita
could wear Mom's shoes. With a little practice I could walk in them
comfortably, my trim fanny figure-eighting as I strolled across the
room. Mom's bras were just the right size to pack my perky bosom into
and I soon found myself encased in an underwired lace brassiere and
matching panties. I felt so hot and sexy it was all I could do to stop
myself dancing.
Dresses, pants and blouses fitted perfectly and I spent an exciting day
dressing up. I learned to walk in a skirt, which felt so strange
compared to pants. I marveled at the sheerness of a peach color silk
teddy sliding against my skin. I admired myself in a side-tie bikini
while still wearing those shiny heels that seemed to elongate my nice
legs even further. I put on a black party frock and paraded up and down
the bedroom, feeling it swish around me. I knew I had here a wardrobe I
could go out in, even if it was for someone a little older.
With three bodies at my command this was the happy time. I was sorta
getting sex, even if it was by masturbating. I would change two or
three times every night to keep the imprint of each girl-shape fresh.
The power did wonders for my self-esteem and I found that even in my
male body I was beginning to act more confident and assertive in
company.
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I try not to think of myself as the bad guy. Yes, I found myself involved in the development of mind-control technology, but I did my best to protect the world from the worst of it. After that, things just kind of happened on their own.
At least, that's what I try to tell myself.
In hindsight, I don’t see how things could have turned out any other way. I’m not saying that as an excuse for any of the things I did or as if it makes them any less bad, but having taken the first step, things just kind of kept happening.
It started at work. I won’t say where.
We were testing methods of remote information transmission that didn’t rely on explicit outputs or inputs. Basically communication that bypassed the barriers outlined in models like Berlo’s SMCR: Instead of relying on language to convey meaning, our aim was to find a way to convey meaning itself directly from one mind to at least one other.
Again, with the benefit of hindsight, the implications were obvious, but we weren’t concerned with whether we should, we just wanted to see if we could. Classic hubris of the scientifically minded.
And it turns out we can. Or more specifically, I can. I’ve made sure all traces of the research material has been scrubbed from any database; every hard drive degaussed, every memory stick smashed into tiny pieces, every document shredded and the whole lot set on fire just to be safe. The technology is too dangerous to risk falling into the wrong hands.
Yes, like mine. It turns out my hands are also the wrong hands, but I didn’t know it at the time. I thought if I just kept the research to myself and studied it in secret, I could find a way to use it to make the world a better place. I guess I can still do that. Maybe it will make up for the bad that I’ve done, which on reflection isn’t even that bad.
Sure, I accidentally corrupted the free will of a fellow human being and inadvertently turned them into my loyal assistant and sex slave, but they’re happy. I know they’re happy, because in a lot of ways, they’re also me.
That helps, right?
*
Everyone was very excited. It was something worth being excited about. Transmission was old tech and measuring changes in brain waves was old tech, but reliably translating knowledge as it was being recalled into data, then being able to implant that data into another mind was a big fucking deal.
Other departments in other labs were specialising in mechanical transmission - robotics and cybernetics, for replacement or auxiliary limbs or remote work in hazardous environments. Useful stuff, but not nearly as delicate as what we were trying to achieve. They were trying to transmit a signal to a robot hand to gently hold an egg: We were trying to pull a single thought out of one mind and stitch it seamlessly into another.
Our first major breakthrough was impression: Not the conveyance of explicit knowledge or of a specific message, just a vague sense experienced by the broadcaster transmitted to the receiver. It had to be a strong sense, which meant staff with intense phobias being the broadcaster knowing what objects were beneath a series of cups, and the receiver choosing a cup at random based on the impression being transmitted to them.
It wasn’t a hundred percent accurate, but the results fell well outside of what would have been possible on pure guesswork and we were pumped to fine tune the technology to see what it could do.
I say “random,” because even though it wasn’t, even though we knew it wasn’t and even though the receiver knew that a successful test would be proof that it wasn’t, they still felt as though they were choosing randomly. At no point did they feel like they were under someone else’s influence or receiving information externally; in every single instance, they were convinced that the experiment had failed and they were just choosing at random.
That should have been our first warning.
We advanced from cups viewed from two positions to mazes navigated from two positions, and then from mazes to simple guessing games like battleships and go fish. Again, no explicit information, but impressions that still left the receiver under the illusion that they were just lucky guessers.
From simple games we moved on to more advanced guessing games like celebrity heads and poker. This was a significant step forwards, but we were still relying on impressions that could be rationalised by the receiver as guesswork and luck. At no point was anyone being fed information that they couldn’t have conceivably deduced, remembered, calculated or bumbled their way into naturally.
That’s when the second major breakthrough happened. One of our broadcasters, Jackson, had gotten tired transmitting the correct answers to his receiver and had started feeding them deliberately incorrect answers. Nothing obvious - just answers that were close enough that they could make even someone who already knew second guess themselves. His receiver had a post-it note on her forehead with “Tiger Woods” written in permanent marker on it, and she had been given the clue “Golfing champion.”
By now, everyone had gotten used to Jackson’s shenanigans, so we grinned or grimaced as poor Lena rattled through every wrong answer she could be compelled to try.
“Tony the Tiger. Michael Jordan. Walt Disney. Santa Claus. Mickey Mouse. Bullroarer Took. Babe Ruth. Heisenberg. Wait, who the hell is Bullroarer Took?”
She didn’t get an answer, as the lab immediately exploded into questions and exclamations and people generally just freaking out. We’d done it, and somehow completely by accident: An entirely new, explicit piece of information had been seamlessly added to a receiver’s brain and it wasn’t until a few seconds after they’d actually said it that they even realised it wasn’t information from their own brain.
That was our second warning.
The third warning came quite a bit later, but by pure chance, I was the only one who noticed and when I did, I acted immediately.
Jackson’s shenanigans had inadvertently opened up new paths of inquiry. By randomly but deliberately poking at areas of knowledge specifically unrelated to the task at hand, we were able to isolate the neural activation patterns associated with conscious knowledge independent of emotional belief.
What followed were several successful instances of transmitting discrete pieces of data from broadcaster to receiver, however we then ran into the new problem of getting the receiver to distinguish between their own thoughts and the information being fed to them. Furthermore, when asked to explain the reasoning behind the transmitted answers, receivers became dismissive, evasive and sometimes even agitated, later explaining that the information just “felt true,” a sensation that applied even in instances where the receiver had been deliberately fed incorrect data.
With mounting dread, we realised the danger of the technology we had created.
The true horror sunk in during a coffee break, when by pure chance I saw Jackon’s reflection making an odd hand gesture over the drink of a coworker whose back was turned. I had to force myself to turn around slowly, watching Jackson converse casually without his eyes leaving her face. It wasn’t until she took a sip that he seemed to relax and noticed me by the coffee machine. I did my best to betray nothing, placing my own coffee onto the table in front of him and moving as though to sit when I “remembered” to get cream from the fridge.
This time when I turned I saw his hurried motion plainly in the brushed metal door, and it took all the self control I had not to confront him or punch his lights out. I returned to the table, adding the cream without sitting before returning it to the fridge. I picked up my coffee and was about to walk out of the room with it when Jackson called out to me with some innocent question about my department. It quickly became clear that he was stalling, waiting for me to drink, so I feigned a casual sip with tightly pursed lips as we spoke and he seemed to relax. I took the opportunity to leave with my cup and as soon as I was out of sight went straight to the micro-observation facility.
We had initially aimed to use physical chips implanted in the subject’s brains to establish a connection, but the risk of accidental damage compounded by multiple intrusions in the case of faulty hardware or the replacement of redundant units made this untenable. Thankfully (or perhaps not), we were assisted by our sister department in nanotech, who had developed a biomonitoring system using carbide nanites that could enter the bloodstream through the digestive tract. To test for successful nanite absorption, we just needed to take a blood sample and insert it into an observation case. And it didn’t just work on blood.
I felt my stomach drop as the coffee reading came back positive. A concentration high enough that even a mouthful would fully colonise a body within hours. I felt sick as I entered a vial of my own saliva, and when that test also came back as a weak positive and rising, I almost fainted.
That fucking bastard.
I had to stop myself from running to the configuration deck and came to a sudden halt halfway there. There’s no way Jackson could have done anything underhanded on one of the terminals without someone seeing him. The room, the equipment and change was constantly monitored as a security measure. If he were going to do anything without being detected, it would need to be somewhere private where he could still access the server and the network. He wasn’t authorised to be anywhere near the site’s core infrastructure, but it was the only place where he would have everything he needed.
I didn’t know how I was going to get access to the server room when I arrived - it’s not as if I had access either - but it turned out that I didn’t need access and neither did Jackson.
Lena had access, and she had left the door unlocked.
She looked up at me owlishly from where she was sitting on the floor, cross-legged with a laptop on her knees.
“Oh, Hi Marcus,” she said, parroting Tommy Wiseau’s infamous line as though we were meeting in the break room.
“Lena?” I asked cautiously. “What are you working on?”
“Oh, I’m just making sure that anytime a new host comes online, they’re set to receive only,” she said, as though she were just filling out her calendar. She turned the laptop so that I could see the screen and pointed at the second of two dots on a map of the facility. “See? There you are right next to me. You came online just a minute ago, so I’ve already made you a receiver.”
“And why would you do that?”
“Because Jackson told me to.”
I stared at the unquestioning innocence in her eyes.
“And you have to do what he says?”
Lena rolled her eyes at me. “Obviously.”
“Obviously,” I repeated. The silence was broken only by the steady whine of cooling fans.
Eventually, Lena shifted uncomfortably. “So, what are you doing here? You’re not IT.”
Not wanting to alarm her, I said the first thing that I could think of. “No, but Jackson sent me.”
The way Lena’s face lit up at his name made me feel ill.
“Does that mean you’re working for him too?”
“Yes,” I lied. Like a man laying down rails for a moving train as he’s riding on it, I grabbed blindly for any string of words that might work. “And he told me to come get you for something important. He’s… outside in the parking lot and says you need to come straight away.”
Lena’s brow wrinkled. “Oh, but I have to stay here for stage three. I’ve just finished getting everyone online.”
“That’s fine. He told me to take over. I have to do what he says, remember? You’ve finished stage two, haven’t you? He says you’ve done a very good job.”
Again, the look of bliss that took over Lena’s face twisted my gut.
“Great! Where can I find him?”
“He just told me as he was walking out,” I said, letting Lena stand up and hand me the laptop. “You’ll have to go look for him. He’s keeping an eye out for you.”
“Okay!” I watched Lena leave the room and closed it behind her, making sure to lock it this time. We shared our parking with three other departments across eight floors, so unless Jackson really was there already, that would keep her out of the way.
She’d been right. Jackson had worked his way through the entire department’s staff and I had a live view of every single person in the facility. Watching the glowing dots meander around the map gave me a truly terrifying glimpse into the future we had made possible.
What caught my eye was something that didn’t exist in the standard interface. We had created individual controls for the kind of transmissions we wanted and the direction we wanted them to go in, but Lena had added a new input without a label.
Clicking on it, a text field appears in which the name “Enfield, Lena” was already populated followed by a yes/no switch.
I pressed “yes” and blacked out.
*
I was in the parking lot, on the blue level by bay two-zero-two. At first I wondered how I had been suddenly transported when I realised how strange I felt all over - my body, my clothes and my hair all felt wrong somehow.
I looked down and felt the strength leave my legs as I saw a woman’s body stretching out below me. A woman’s body in a pair of black Mary Janes, matching pencil skirt, white dress shirt and a lanyard whose ID read “Lena Enfield.”
I stared at myself in shock, having fallen to my knees and began running my unfamiliar hands over my unfamiliar body, trying to confirm that I wasn’t somehow dreaming.
“Lena!” a voice echoed across the concrete, causing me to jump in a mix of fear and guilt. I turned in the direction of the voice and felt my heart quail at the side of Jackson striding towards me, his face contorted with fury.
In that instant I felt an overwhelming sense of panic take over and I wanted to be absolutely anywhere except anywhere near him, and in that same moment I felt myself dragged back into the cool air of the server room, sitting on the floor with Lena’s laptop on my legs.
We had theorised that it was possible, but had never been arrogant or stupid enough to try it. The psychological risks and ethical dangers it posed were beyond our ability to rationalise and well outside the original scope of the project, though there were rumours that it would eventually be turned towards a similar end.
But I didn’t have time to marvel at the development. Jackson would interrogate Lena, Lena would tell him the truth, and he would run straight here. I had to act fast.
Jackson would head straight for the server room once he realised what had happened.
I could head straight for the director’s office, but there was no guarantee that she wasn’t also in on his plot. I checked the map again: She had her nanites installed and despite her rank in the organisation had also been set to receive, as had every guard on her floor. Jackson really intended to just dominate everyone in the building. I had all the proof I needed to expose Jackson and have him arrested.
We would need to deprogram Lena. Shit, assuming that was even possible. God only knew how badly Jackson had been screwing with her brain, or for how long. And there was always a chance the higher ups would find out and do what higher ups always do when they have the opportunity to take even more wealth and power.
I fretted for much longer than I should have under the circumstances. Maybe there really was no other way, or maybe I was just deliberately backing myself into a corner. Whatever the case, the sudden jangle of keys at the door alerted me that I had run out of time, and that within seconds, Jackson would be in the room to steal back the laptop, or possibly even frame me, now that he’d been discovered.
I’d considered the option and dismissed it as immoral. Self-serving. A road too dangerous to even consider walking down. But having failed to take any other action, it was the only one I had left.
It was the right thing to do. It was the only thing to do. When the chips are down and the pressure is on, the only person you can depend on is yourself.
I dragged my own icon into the super broadcaster position, and hit “execute.”
*
There wasn’t any sudden rush of sensation. There never had been: Broadcasting just took the data you wanted to impart and transmitted a copy to the target. But for some reason, I still expected something.
What did happen was the sound of keys hitting the floor outside, followed by a hollow groan of absolute despair.
I unlocked the door and opened it to find Jackson, grey-faced and swaying with his hands covering his face. Lena was behind him, looking pitiful, but not nearly as distraught as Jackson.
“Hello, Jackson.” I said flatly.
“Don’t…” he moaned through his hands.
People had begun to file into the room, ashen-faced but with a mix of anger, all of them staring at Jackson as he tried to hide behind himself.
I’d used the nanites to broadcast two things: The knowledge of what Jackson had tried to do, and my overwhelming disgust at him for the attempt.
Now everyone knew what he’d done, he knew that they knew and he shared their hatred for himself because I had copied it directly from my mind into his.
“Nobody hurt him,” I said, seeing the balled fists and shaking hands around me. “Nobody let him hurt himself, either. Get him out of here.”
Four men approached Jackson, who didn’t resist as they grimly marched him away. I turned to Lena, who was running her hands through her hair, wide-eyed and shivering.
“H-he was-s in m-my head…” she stammered.
I didn’t have any words of consolation for her. Least of all, because not moments ago I had also been inside her mind. The only reason she knew about Jackson was because I had “told” her. I motioned for another one of the staff to take her away.
“Alright, everyone,” I said to those who remained. “I want an all-hands meeting in the break room. Tell everyone you see, and someone head upstairs to find…”
I trailed off as I realised how much time would be wasted finding everyone in the building and telling them where to go, and then more wasted simply having the meeting itself, and that was assuming nobody disagreed with what I was about to say.
Well, neither of those things were problems anymore, were they?
I activated my transmitter and broadcast a new set of instructions.
“The project is to be terminated. Nobody can be trusted with this power. Destroy all hardware, all documentation, strip the building down and wipe everything.”
The effect was instant: People began moving with an almost frantic purpose, delegating tasks to themselves or people nearby as files began to be pulled out of drawers and shredded, computers wiped and machinery disassembled. I had intended to join in, but found myself at sea in a centre of bustling activity, so instead walked myself out to my car to lie down and clear my head.
Had I done the right thing? Yes. Absolutely. Any other decision would have exposed everyone to the risk of Jackson regaining control, or the project being compromised by a figure in authority. Even if the director was of sound moral character, her superiors might not be, or their superiors above them. Someone, somewhere in the organisation would have tried to take advantage, just like Jackson did. Better to destroy everything and pretend it never happened.
I watched numbly as a procession of staff began to file out with armfuls and boxes of shredded documents, leaving trails of confetti in their wake. Like ants, they threw their boxes into one of the massive steel containers used for waste disposal. Some others had started fussing over the nearest cars, and it took me a while to realise that they were siphoning the petrol.
My initial alarm was quelled somewhat when they left the containers of fuel to one side instead of lighting it immediately. Any kind of fire would alert the emergency services, who would no doubt try to stop what was happening once they arrived.
It was actually kind of peaceful, sitting apart from the action and just watching it unfold. Almost like watching an ant colony cleaning out a lunchbox: All of the inside bits got broken down and taken outside until all that was left was the shell.
They had filled all six bins and four of the cargo trucks by the time they were done. Everything had been reduced to the smallest parts it could be torn, cut, unscrewed, unplugged or just smashed into. There was no cheering as fuel was added or the flames lit from a safe distance. Just the quiet relief of a terrible future averted.
Someone coughed near me and I turned to see Lena and a few other members of staff with a single trolley loaded with some equipment that hadn’t been destroyed. Confused, I turned to Lena.
“Aren’t you going to add it to the pile?” I asked.
“Not this stuff,” Lena said cheerfully, apparently recovered from her earlier breakdown. “We figured it would be a shame if we destroyed literally everything, so we’ve saved some of it. And because you decided to be mister lazy-pants while the rest of us were hard at work, we’re giving you the job of taking care of it.”
I couldn’t stop my brow furrowing in confusion. “I never told you to do that.”
Lena scoffed as the others began loading the equipment into my car. “Good. We’re not here to do what you tell us. The vote was unanimous: We’re all getting out, so you get to babysit the last remnants. Hide it, destroy it, do whatever you want. This is your share of the responsibility. Maybe next time, do your bit instead of wandering off for a nap, okay?”
And with that, they left to join the rapidly dispersing crowd as everyone jumped into their cars or hitched a ride from the others. A column of black smoke reached up from the facility, and it would be a matter of minutes before the firefighters arrived. Just by virtue of the work we were doing, the cops wouldn’t be far behind.
Without time to get everything out of my car and into the fire, I jumped into the driver’s seat and made my way out with the rest, racking my brain furiously as I tried to avoid speeding on my way home.
I never told them to set aside any equipment for me. No, I never CONSCIOUSLY told them. That really was the only explanation: There was no way that - after being given the artificial impression that the entire project needed to be burned to the ground - they would somehow conveniently decide that I should be trusted with the last pieces of evidence. Not just any evidence, either: At a glance I could tell that I had been left with everything I needed to manufacture and configure the nanites myself, just on a much smaller scale.
Despite my best intentions, some small part of myself had subconsciously implanted the addendum that one way or another, I should have the power to continue the project privately.
Fine, then. I’d get home, pack up what little I could fit and get the hell out of the city, state, maybe even country before finding somewhere I could safely destroy the last remains of a terrible mistake.
That was almost two years ago.
I never did get around to destroying that equipment.
At least, that's what I try to tell myself.
In hindsight, I don’t see how things could have turned out any other way. I’m not saying that as an excuse for any of the things I did or as if it makes them any less bad, but having taken the first step, things just kind of kept happening.
It started at work. I won’t say where.
We were testing methods of remote information transmission that didn’t rely on explicit outputs or inputs. Basically communication that bypassed the barriers outlined in models like Berlo’s SMCR: Instead of relying on language to convey meaning, our aim was to find a way to convey meaning itself directly from one mind to at least one other.
Again, with the benefit of hindsight, the implications were obvious, but we weren’t concerned with whether we should, we just wanted to see if we could. Classic hubris of the scientifically minded.
And it turns out we can. Or more specifically, I can. I’ve made sure all traces of the research material has been scrubbed from any database; every hard drive degaussed, every memory stick smashed into tiny pieces, every document shredded and the whole lot set on fire just to be safe. The technology is too dangerous to risk falling into the wrong hands.
Yes, like mine. It turns out my hands are also the wrong hands, but I didn’t know it at the time. I thought if I just kept the research to myself and studied it in secret, I could find a way to use it to make the world a better place. I guess I can still do that. Maybe it will make up for the bad that I’ve done, which on reflection isn’t even that bad.
Sure, I accidentally corrupted the free will of a fellow human being and inadvertently turned them into my loyal assistant and sex slave, but they’re happy. I know they’re happy, because in a lot of ways, they’re also me.
That helps, right?
*
Everyone was very excited. It was something worth being excited about. Transmission was old tech and measuring changes in brain waves was old tech, but reliably translating knowledge as it was being recalled into data, then being able to implant that data into another mind was a big fucking deal.
Other departments in other labs were specialising in mechanical transmission - robotics and cybernetics, for replacement or auxiliary limbs or remote work in hazardous environments. Useful stuff, but not nearly as delicate as what we were trying to achieve. They were trying to transmit a signal to a robot hand to gently hold an egg: We were trying to pull a single thought out of one mind and stitch it seamlessly into another.
Our first major breakthrough was impression: Not the conveyance of explicit knowledge or of a specific message, just a vague sense experienced by the broadcaster transmitted to the receiver. It had to be a strong sense, which meant staff with intense phobias being the broadcaster knowing what objects were beneath a series of cups, and the receiver choosing a cup at random based on the impression being transmitted to them.
It wasn’t a hundred percent accurate, but the results fell well outside of what would have been possible on pure guesswork and we were pumped to fine tune the technology to see what it could do.
I say “random,” because even though it wasn’t, even though we knew it wasn’t and even though the receiver knew that a successful test would be proof that it wasn’t, they still felt as though they were choosing randomly. At no point did they feel like they were under someone else’s influence or receiving information externally; in every single instance, they were convinced that the experiment had failed and they were just choosing at random.
That should have been our first warning.
We advanced from cups viewed from two positions to mazes navigated from two positions, and then from mazes to simple guessing games like battleships and go fish. Again, no explicit information, but impressions that still left the receiver under the illusion that they were just lucky guessers.
From simple games we moved on to more advanced guessing games like celebrity heads and poker. This was a significant step forwards, but we were still relying on impressions that could be rationalised by the receiver as guesswork and luck. At no point was anyone being fed information that they couldn’t have conceivably deduced, remembered, calculated or bumbled their way into naturally.
That’s when the second major breakthrough happened. One of our broadcasters, Jackson, had gotten tired transmitting the correct answers to his receiver and had started feeding them deliberately incorrect answers. Nothing obvious - just answers that were close enough that they could make even someone who already knew second guess themselves. His receiver had a post-it note on her forehead with “Tiger Woods” written in permanent marker on it, and she had been given the clue “Golfing champion.”
By now, everyone had gotten used to Jackson’s shenanigans, so we grinned or grimaced as poor Lena rattled through every wrong answer she could be compelled to try.
“Tony the Tiger. Michael Jordan. Walt Disney. Santa Claus. Mickey Mouse. Bullroarer Took. Babe Ruth. Heisenberg. Wait, who the hell is Bullroarer Took?”
She didn’t get an answer, as the lab immediately exploded into questions and exclamations and people generally just freaking out. We’d done it, and somehow completely by accident: An entirely new, explicit piece of information had been seamlessly added to a receiver’s brain and it wasn’t until a few seconds after they’d actually said it that they even realised it wasn’t information from their own brain.
That was our second warning.
The third warning came quite a bit later, but by pure chance, I was the only one who noticed and when I did, I acted immediately.
Jackson’s shenanigans had inadvertently opened up new paths of inquiry. By randomly but deliberately poking at areas of knowledge specifically unrelated to the task at hand, we were able to isolate the neural activation patterns associated with conscious knowledge independent of emotional belief.
What followed were several successful instances of transmitting discrete pieces of data from broadcaster to receiver, however we then ran into the new problem of getting the receiver to distinguish between their own thoughts and the information being fed to them. Furthermore, when asked to explain the reasoning behind the transmitted answers, receivers became dismissive, evasive and sometimes even agitated, later explaining that the information just “felt true,” a sensation that applied even in instances where the receiver had been deliberately fed incorrect data.
With mounting dread, we realised the danger of the technology we had created.
The true horror sunk in during a coffee break, when by pure chance I saw Jackon’s reflection making an odd hand gesture over the drink of a coworker whose back was turned. I had to force myself to turn around slowly, watching Jackson converse casually without his eyes leaving her face. It wasn’t until she took a sip that he seemed to relax and noticed me by the coffee machine. I did my best to betray nothing, placing my own coffee onto the table in front of him and moving as though to sit when I “remembered” to get cream from the fridge.
This time when I turned I saw his hurried motion plainly in the brushed metal door, and it took all the self control I had not to confront him or punch his lights out. I returned to the table, adding the cream without sitting before returning it to the fridge. I picked up my coffee and was about to walk out of the room with it when Jackson called out to me with some innocent question about my department. It quickly became clear that he was stalling, waiting for me to drink, so I feigned a casual sip with tightly pursed lips as we spoke and he seemed to relax. I took the opportunity to leave with my cup and as soon as I was out of sight went straight to the micro-observation facility.
We had initially aimed to use physical chips implanted in the subject’s brains to establish a connection, but the risk of accidental damage compounded by multiple intrusions in the case of faulty hardware or the replacement of redundant units made this untenable. Thankfully (or perhaps not), we were assisted by our sister department in nanotech, who had developed a biomonitoring system using carbide nanites that could enter the bloodstream through the digestive tract. To test for successful nanite absorption, we just needed to take a blood sample and insert it into an observation case. And it didn’t just work on blood.
I felt my stomach drop as the coffee reading came back positive. A concentration high enough that even a mouthful would fully colonise a body within hours. I felt sick as I entered a vial of my own saliva, and when that test also came back as a weak positive and rising, I almost fainted.
That fucking bastard.
I had to stop myself from running to the configuration deck and came to a sudden halt halfway there. There’s no way Jackson could have done anything underhanded on one of the terminals without someone seeing him. The room, the equipment and change was constantly monitored as a security measure. If he were going to do anything without being detected, it would need to be somewhere private where he could still access the server and the network. He wasn’t authorised to be anywhere near the site’s core infrastructure, but it was the only place where he would have everything he needed.
I didn’t know how I was going to get access to the server room when I arrived - it’s not as if I had access either - but it turned out that I didn’t need access and neither did Jackson.
Lena had access, and she had left the door unlocked.
She looked up at me owlishly from where she was sitting on the floor, cross-legged with a laptop on her knees.
“Oh, Hi Marcus,” she said, parroting Tommy Wiseau’s infamous line as though we were meeting in the break room.
“Lena?” I asked cautiously. “What are you working on?”
“Oh, I’m just making sure that anytime a new host comes online, they’re set to receive only,” she said, as though she were just filling out her calendar. She turned the laptop so that I could see the screen and pointed at the second of two dots on a map of the facility. “See? There you are right next to me. You came online just a minute ago, so I’ve already made you a receiver.”
“And why would you do that?”
“Because Jackson told me to.”
I stared at the unquestioning innocence in her eyes.
“And you have to do what he says?”
Lena rolled her eyes at me. “Obviously.”
“Obviously,” I repeated. The silence was broken only by the steady whine of cooling fans.
Eventually, Lena shifted uncomfortably. “So, what are you doing here? You’re not IT.”
Not wanting to alarm her, I said the first thing that I could think of. “No, but Jackson sent me.”
The way Lena’s face lit up at his name made me feel ill.
“Does that mean you’re working for him too?”
“Yes,” I lied. Like a man laying down rails for a moving train as he’s riding on it, I grabbed blindly for any string of words that might work. “And he told me to come get you for something important. He’s… outside in the parking lot and says you need to come straight away.”
Lena’s brow wrinkled. “Oh, but I have to stay here for stage three. I’ve just finished getting everyone online.”
“That’s fine. He told me to take over. I have to do what he says, remember? You’ve finished stage two, haven’t you? He says you’ve done a very good job.”
Again, the look of bliss that took over Lena’s face twisted my gut.
“Great! Where can I find him?”
“He just told me as he was walking out,” I said, letting Lena stand up and hand me the laptop. “You’ll have to go look for him. He’s keeping an eye out for you.”
“Okay!” I watched Lena leave the room and closed it behind her, making sure to lock it this time. We shared our parking with three other departments across eight floors, so unless Jackson really was there already, that would keep her out of the way.
She’d been right. Jackson had worked his way through the entire department’s staff and I had a live view of every single person in the facility. Watching the glowing dots meander around the map gave me a truly terrifying glimpse into the future we had made possible.
What caught my eye was something that didn’t exist in the standard interface. We had created individual controls for the kind of transmissions we wanted and the direction we wanted them to go in, but Lena had added a new input without a label.
Clicking on it, a text field appears in which the name “Enfield, Lena” was already populated followed by a yes/no switch.
I pressed “yes” and blacked out.
*
I was in the parking lot, on the blue level by bay two-zero-two. At first I wondered how I had been suddenly transported when I realised how strange I felt all over - my body, my clothes and my hair all felt wrong somehow.
I looked down and felt the strength leave my legs as I saw a woman’s body stretching out below me. A woman’s body in a pair of black Mary Janes, matching pencil skirt, white dress shirt and a lanyard whose ID read “Lena Enfield.”
I stared at myself in shock, having fallen to my knees and began running my unfamiliar hands over my unfamiliar body, trying to confirm that I wasn’t somehow dreaming.
“Lena!” a voice echoed across the concrete, causing me to jump in a mix of fear and guilt. I turned in the direction of the voice and felt my heart quail at the side of Jackson striding towards me, his face contorted with fury.
In that instant I felt an overwhelming sense of panic take over and I wanted to be absolutely anywhere except anywhere near him, and in that same moment I felt myself dragged back into the cool air of the server room, sitting on the floor with Lena’s laptop on my legs.
We had theorised that it was possible, but had never been arrogant or stupid enough to try it. The psychological risks and ethical dangers it posed were beyond our ability to rationalise and well outside the original scope of the project, though there were rumours that it would eventually be turned towards a similar end.
But I didn’t have time to marvel at the development. Jackson would interrogate Lena, Lena would tell him the truth, and he would run straight here. I had to act fast.
Jackson would head straight for the server room once he realised what had happened.
I could head straight for the director’s office, but there was no guarantee that she wasn’t also in on his plot. I checked the map again: She had her nanites installed and despite her rank in the organisation had also been set to receive, as had every guard on her floor. Jackson really intended to just dominate everyone in the building. I had all the proof I needed to expose Jackson and have him arrested.
We would need to deprogram Lena. Shit, assuming that was even possible. God only knew how badly Jackson had been screwing with her brain, or for how long. And there was always a chance the higher ups would find out and do what higher ups always do when they have the opportunity to take even more wealth and power.
I fretted for much longer than I should have under the circumstances. Maybe there really was no other way, or maybe I was just deliberately backing myself into a corner. Whatever the case, the sudden jangle of keys at the door alerted me that I had run out of time, and that within seconds, Jackson would be in the room to steal back the laptop, or possibly even frame me, now that he’d been discovered.
I’d considered the option and dismissed it as immoral. Self-serving. A road too dangerous to even consider walking down. But having failed to take any other action, it was the only one I had left.
It was the right thing to do. It was the only thing to do. When the chips are down and the pressure is on, the only person you can depend on is yourself.
I dragged my own icon into the super broadcaster position, and hit “execute.”
*
There wasn’t any sudden rush of sensation. There never had been: Broadcasting just took the data you wanted to impart and transmitted a copy to the target. But for some reason, I still expected something.
What did happen was the sound of keys hitting the floor outside, followed by a hollow groan of absolute despair.
I unlocked the door and opened it to find Jackson, grey-faced and swaying with his hands covering his face. Lena was behind him, looking pitiful, but not nearly as distraught as Jackson.
“Hello, Jackson.” I said flatly.
“Don’t…” he moaned through his hands.
People had begun to file into the room, ashen-faced but with a mix of anger, all of them staring at Jackson as he tried to hide behind himself.
I’d used the nanites to broadcast two things: The knowledge of what Jackson had tried to do, and my overwhelming disgust at him for the attempt.
Now everyone knew what he’d done, he knew that they knew and he shared their hatred for himself because I had copied it directly from my mind into his.
“Nobody hurt him,” I said, seeing the balled fists and shaking hands around me. “Nobody let him hurt himself, either. Get him out of here.”
Four men approached Jackson, who didn’t resist as they grimly marched him away. I turned to Lena, who was running her hands through her hair, wide-eyed and shivering.
“H-he was-s in m-my head…” she stammered.
I didn’t have any words of consolation for her. Least of all, because not moments ago I had also been inside her mind. The only reason she knew about Jackson was because I had “told” her. I motioned for another one of the staff to take her away.
“Alright, everyone,” I said to those who remained. “I want an all-hands meeting in the break room. Tell everyone you see, and someone head upstairs to find…”
I trailed off as I realised how much time would be wasted finding everyone in the building and telling them where to go, and then more wasted simply having the meeting itself, and that was assuming nobody disagreed with what I was about to say.
Well, neither of those things were problems anymore, were they?
I activated my transmitter and broadcast a new set of instructions.
“The project is to be terminated. Nobody can be trusted with this power. Destroy all hardware, all documentation, strip the building down and wipe everything.”
The effect was instant: People began moving with an almost frantic purpose, delegating tasks to themselves or people nearby as files began to be pulled out of drawers and shredded, computers wiped and machinery disassembled. I had intended to join in, but found myself at sea in a centre of bustling activity, so instead walked myself out to my car to lie down and clear my head.
Had I done the right thing? Yes. Absolutely. Any other decision would have exposed everyone to the risk of Jackson regaining control, or the project being compromised by a figure in authority. Even if the director was of sound moral character, her superiors might not be, or their superiors above them. Someone, somewhere in the organisation would have tried to take advantage, just like Jackson did. Better to destroy everything and pretend it never happened.
I watched numbly as a procession of staff began to file out with armfuls and boxes of shredded documents, leaving trails of confetti in their wake. Like ants, they threw their boxes into one of the massive steel containers used for waste disposal. Some others had started fussing over the nearest cars, and it took me a while to realise that they were siphoning the petrol.
My initial alarm was quelled somewhat when they left the containers of fuel to one side instead of lighting it immediately. Any kind of fire would alert the emergency services, who would no doubt try to stop what was happening once they arrived.
It was actually kind of peaceful, sitting apart from the action and just watching it unfold. Almost like watching an ant colony cleaning out a lunchbox: All of the inside bits got broken down and taken outside until all that was left was the shell.
They had filled all six bins and four of the cargo trucks by the time they were done. Everything had been reduced to the smallest parts it could be torn, cut, unscrewed, unplugged or just smashed into. There was no cheering as fuel was added or the flames lit from a safe distance. Just the quiet relief of a terrible future averted.
Someone coughed near me and I turned to see Lena and a few other members of staff with a single trolley loaded with some equipment that hadn’t been destroyed. Confused, I turned to Lena.
“Aren’t you going to add it to the pile?” I asked.
“Not this stuff,” Lena said cheerfully, apparently recovered from her earlier breakdown. “We figured it would be a shame if we destroyed literally everything, so we’ve saved some of it. And because you decided to be mister lazy-pants while the rest of us were hard at work, we’re giving you the job of taking care of it.”
I couldn’t stop my brow furrowing in confusion. “I never told you to do that.”
Lena scoffed as the others began loading the equipment into my car. “Good. We’re not here to do what you tell us. The vote was unanimous: We’re all getting out, so you get to babysit the last remnants. Hide it, destroy it, do whatever you want. This is your share of the responsibility. Maybe next time, do your bit instead of wandering off for a nap, okay?”
And with that, they left to join the rapidly dispersing crowd as everyone jumped into their cars or hitched a ride from the others. A column of black smoke reached up from the facility, and it would be a matter of minutes before the firefighters arrived. Just by virtue of the work we were doing, the cops wouldn’t be far behind.
Without time to get everything out of my car and into the fire, I jumped into the driver’s seat and made my way out with the rest, racking my brain furiously as I tried to avoid speeding on my way home.
I never told them to set aside any equipment for me. No, I never CONSCIOUSLY told them. That really was the only explanation: There was no way that - after being given the artificial impression that the entire project needed to be burned to the ground - they would somehow conveniently decide that I should be trusted with the last pieces of evidence. Not just any evidence, either: At a glance I could tell that I had been left with everything I needed to manufacture and configure the nanites myself, just on a much smaller scale.
Despite my best intentions, some small part of myself had subconsciously implanted the addendum that one way or another, I should have the power to continue the project privately.
Fine, then. I’d get home, pack up what little I could fit and get the hell out of the city, state, maybe even country before finding somewhere I could safely destroy the last remains of a terrible mistake.
That was almost two years ago.
I never did get around to destroying that equipment.
mind control
masturbation
possession
stealth control
selfcest
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Here's a RWBY incest fanfiction that I drawed up. Now, before entering, I must warn you of the content within: there will be violence. There will be blood. There will be murder. There will be incestuous relations. There will be heartbreak (probably). And there will be Sprite. If ANY of that is too uncomfortable for you, please look elsewhere. Everyone else, happy reading.
Also, this is serving as a prototype for mixing story and porn. Both are great on their own, but together, they're unmatched. So I wanna try my hand with it. So hopefully, ya like it....alright, dassitdassall.
"Hmm…B7," Yang guesses,
"Miss," Ruby responds, earning a grunt in return, "...E…2?"
"Dammit!"
"Hahaha! I told you, Ms. Doubtfire! You! Can't! Beat me! I'm the best! I am the very powerful! Witness the true greatness shining upon you!"
The two sisters share a laugh after the display of dumbassery from the young girl.
"Oh, calm down, Ms. Braggart," Yang replies, cleaning up the game, "You won a couple of board games. So what? Any joe schmoe could get lucky twice."
"Uh huh. Keep finding different ways of coping with the fact that you're getting your butt kicked by your little sister."
"Alright, big shot. Gloves are off now. Which game's next?"
Ruby takes a moment to think of her options, but she's soon interrupted as her father suddenly swoops her up in the air, causing her to squeal in joy as he turns her about before setting her down on her feet and kneeling down to her level.
"I've got a game for ya," he says, looking her in the eyes and poking her nose, "It's single player, though. So Yang can't join in, unfortunately. It's called 'brush your teeth and head on up to bed'. Patent pending."
"Awww."
"I know, I know. But you've already been up half an hour past your bedtime. You've gotta go to bed at some point, Rubes."
"5 more minutes?"
"In another lifetime maybe."
"Pleeease?"
"Ruby."
Yang chuckles at the back and forth before deciding to go with ol' reliable.
"Don't worry, Ruby. Tomorrow's gonna be much better anyways. We'll get to play more with more time in our arsonal?"
"Yaaay!" Ruby rejoices with Tai turning to her with a feigned look of disapproval of the plan,
"And how do you plan to make good on that promise, young lady?"
"Come on, she's a kid," Yang replies, "She's gotta have some fun."
"You're half right. She's still a kid. So she needs to be in bed at the appropriate time or everything falls out of whack."
"Ok, ok, how's about this: we play three quarters past her bedtime."
"...Ten minutes."
"Two and a half quarters."
"Twelve minutes and you only do half the dishes from now on."
"Two quarters and I take care of dinner every visit."
"...Alright, deal."
Ruby rejoices from the compromise, not knowing that that's practically the same deal that they've had for the past few months.
"Ok, but that's tomorrow. This is tonight."
"Ok, ok."
Ruby then latches onto Yang's waist, embracing her in a warm hug, which Yang reciprocates. She then ruffles her little sister's hair before poking her sides, earning cute giggles in response.
"Alright, see ya tomorrow, sis. Don't destroy the place while I'm gone."
"No promises," Ruby replies with a grin,
"Guess that's all I'm gonna get. Whatever. Shoo, ya little rascal."
Yang scoots the girl away with her giggling in response before heading upstairs to her bathroom, leaving Tai and Yang to their own conversation.
"Ok, serious time," Tai says, turning to his daughter and folding his arms, "Are you ok?"
"I'm good. Honest. This stopped meaning as much as it did after the first visit. Her smile does a lot, y'know?"
"Yeah. I know what you mean there. But I just wanna make sure. If…she's making you uncomfortable in any way-..."
"Dad, I'm fine. I swear. Just a matter of getting her off my ass at times."
"Yuuup. And speaking of which-..."
He pulls out his phone, looking at the time. He then recoils as he receives his answer.
"9:38. That's gonna be a fun conversation at this time of night. Want me to chaufer?"
"Nah. Not like she'll have the balls to do anything to me. Or even care enough to really make a big deal out of it. Plus, you've still got a rowdy little monster to tend to."
"Yeah, guess you're right. Ok, stay safe, sweetheart. I love you."
"Love you, too."
They embrace each other in a hug with Tai kissing the top of Yang's head before they separate and Yang heads out the front door. As she rides home on her bike, Yang, just so happens to spot her favorite Mexican restaurant. And just as suspiciously, she suddenly develops a craving for a meal of some sort.
'Well, if I'm gonna be late, might as well be hella late,' she thinks to herself as she stops at the restaurant.
After parking her bike, she places her keys in her pocket before heading inside the building, taking in the wonderous scent of the Mexican environment. She then steps forward to the hostess, who's already ready for her.
"Hi, there, Yang," she greets with a beaming smile,
"Hey, Beth," Yang greets back,
"A bit late to go out of your way to come here, isn't it?"
"I'm just coming from my dad's, actually. Then I saw that this place was still open, so…y'know…what the hell? Can never go wrong with Mexican, right?"
"You just wanna piss your mom off, don't you?"
"Heh. No getting past you, Bethine."
"Yeah, I figured. Well, you're gonna have to wait a little bit. About…five…ten minutes?"
"Oh, please, take your time. I am in no rush at all."
They share a chuckle before Yang takes a seat in the waiting area, pulling out her phone and scrolling away. And after half an hour of waiting, Yang's finally met with Beth's presence, garnering her attention.
"Oh, hey, there," she greets after removing an earbud,
"Hey. Just wanted to let you know that a table's finally ready."
"Really? Wow. That was quick. You've got a fat tip in your future, young lady."
"Wow. That's a first."
"Don't get used to it. It isn't exactly my treat tonight."
She reaches into her purse and pulls out a wallet before opening it, revealing her mother's picture. Beth brings a hand to her mouth, gasping and chuckling at the absurdity at hand. Yang then brings a finger to her lips, shushing her as she takes a hundred dollar bill from the wallet and pushes it into Beth's pocket in her jeans. Beth, not objecting to the gift, zips her lips before leading Yang to her table.
"Alright, what'll ya have?" Beth questions as she prepared to jot down the order,
"Hmm," Yang replies, looking at the menu and browsing, "I'll just have the supreme nachos, the grand chimichanga dinner, and…let's go with a fajita plate to really seal the deal."
"Sprites?"
"Sprites."
"Alright, we'll have that out for ya in a jiff."
"Awesome. Take your time. No rush."
Beth closes her notepad and heads off, leaving Yang to her own endeavors again. And aside from the constant dispensing of her beverage, Yang doesn't see much of the hostess. That is until nearly an hour later when she finally receives her food.
"Ok, here's your fajitas, your chimichanga dinner, your cheesy supreme nachos, and just for good measure another Sprite for ya."
"Oh, you spoil me, Beth."
"Only the best for our guests. And if you're wondering about the time, I took the liberty of telling the cooks to really make the order special by not having it that high on their priorities. Such an order takes precise measurements, y'know?"
"You are just a delight."
"I do what I can. If you need anything else, don't hesitate to yell."
"Good to know. Thanks."
Beth then steps away as Yang takes a few bites of her nachos and a few drinks of her drink. And after about fifteen more minutes of being on her phone, she ignores the abundance of text messages she's getting and takes a look at her percentage, which shows a decent thirty percent. Which should be more than enough to get her home with her music.
"Hey," Beth says, approaching her table, noticing she's barely touched her food, "Everything alright?"
"Yeah. I'm actually about to head home. Any way I can get to-go boxes and cups for these?"
"Comin' right up."
She then goes to retrieve the boxes, cups, and bag. Once she returns, Yang packs up her food and drinks before reaching inside her mother's wallet and presenting eight more hundred dollar bills.
"One for everyone in the establishment," she says, placing the wallet back into her purse, "Thanks again."
"No, no. Thank you. Greatest customer ever. Tell your mom I said hi."
"Got it. Night."
"Night, Yang. Drive safe."
Yang collects her barings before stepping out of the establishment and heading home. After parking her bike, she grabs her food and walks up to the front door, retrieving her keys and mentally preparing for the upcoming hellfire that awaits her on the other side. After unlocking the door, she steps inside and closes it, taking a breath.
'5, 4, 3, 2,'
"It's late," she hears Raven's voice say in the living room, "Where were you?"
"With dad, remember?" Yang replies, not even looking at her as she heads into the kitchen,
"You should've been here at 9:15. It's damn near midnight. I'm not gonna ask again. Tell me where you were."
"Out."
"Yang, I'm not in the mood. Where the hell were you? And why weren't you answering me?"
Yang doesn't even acknowledge her. She just stores her food in the fridge. Not content with being ignored, Raven stands up from the couch and heads into the kitchen, blocking the exit.
"Answer me!" she snaps,
"What, a girl can't just enjoy the late night drives like everyone else?" Yang replies, overflowing with smarm, unphased by her mother's tone,
"Yang Xiao Long, I asked you a fucking question! Answer it! Your ass is here before 9:30! That's the rule here! Why are you just getting here at fucking midnight?!"
"Oh, doth my ears deceive me? Is the same mouth preaching punctuality bullshit to me right now attached to the same woman who couldn't find it in her busy schedule to spend a second with her own daughter for the entirety of her adolescence?! Is that really what's going on here?!"
"Don't you take that tone of voice with me! I'm your mother!"
"Could've fooled me, Ms. I-take-the-family-out-of-'family-business'!"
"Well, I'm here now! So as long as that fact remains, you do what I say when I say if you wanna keep living under my fucking roof!"
"Yeah, your fucking roof that's in dad's name! Yup! Your fucking roof that you don't spend a damn dime on! Right, right! It just bothers the shit outta you whenever you don't have control over every little thing, doesn't it?!"
Raven takes a few steps forward, folding her arms as she gets inches away from her daughter's unperturbed face. She then says in a low tone,
"No. What bugs me is someone who doesn't know their place in environments that don't typically favor them because of some self-righteous phase they're going through. And once you've seen your fair share of the same routine of someone being stupid and shooting their mouth off at someone who's more than willing to pop it back in place, you tend to find it getting a bit old after a while. Now, what you will do is head to your room. Then tomorrow, once whatever this is that's making you delude yourself into thinking that you're hot shit wears off, you will apologize to me. And I'm not gonna hear another word outta you. Do I make myself clear?"
Yang clasps her hands behind her back, giving her mother the most nonchalant look she can muster before matching her tone with,
"Or what? What exactly is gonna happen if I don't make that little fantasy of yours a reality? See, I'm not one of your little subjects. Once you've run into enough bullies who push you for their own pleasures, you tend to find out they're just pussies who can't stand being pushed back. So…I'm pushing back. Whatcha gonna do about it?...Pussy?"
She punctuates her point, bringing her hand to her mother's shoulder and shoving her. Raven closes her eyes, taking a breath before chuckling to herself as she looks into her daughter's eyes, which are now slowly shifting from lilac to their blood red shade.
"Ok," she says, "You're your own person. Do whatever you wanna do."
She then steps aside, allowing her daughter to leave the kitchen. Yang gives her a smug smirk before accepting her invitation, being sure to bump into her shoulder in passing. But just when she makes contact with her, Raven grabs her daughter by her hair and yanks her back to face her. Yang, anticipating the maneuver, shifts her body towards her mother before delivering a powerful headbutt to her lip, causing her to stumble back to the fridge.
Yang glares daggers at her, daring her to make another move. Raven brings two fingers to her lip, wiping away the blood from it before darting at Yang. Yang, again, evades her mother's maneuver, managing to pin her against the wall before kneeing her in her stomach. Raven then grabs onto her leg and trips the other, causing Yang to fall to the floor. She then mounts her daughter, attempting a punch to her jaw, which Yang dodges and counters with a punch of her own, switching their positions and wrapping her hands around Raven's throat.
Raven brings her hands to Yang's arms, digging her nails into her skin. Yang withstands the piercing for a bit before finally giving in and releasing her grip. Raven then manages her foot between them and kicks Yang back against a nearby cabinet. She then sits up and the pair just sit in their current positions, breathless and scowling at each other.
"I fucking hate you," Yang declares, making her way back to her feet,
"I hate you right back, you conceited little bitch."
"Apple doesn't fall far from the tree in that regard, huh?"
"I wish you were never born."
"I wish Ruby was spared the burden of being birthed by you."
Silence. Raven can only recoil at that last statement. Even Yang's surprised by the phrase. She never wanted her sister to be involved in this in any way. It just slipped out. But the damage has been done. And that damage is made abundantly clear as what Yang sees next shocks her to her core. Raven's…tearing up. And without another word, she steps out of the kitchen and rushes upstairs. Moments later, Yang hears her bedroom door slam shut.
And after moments of coming to terms with what just happened, Yang goes to the fridge and fetches herself a cup of Sprite before heading to the living room and turning on the TV after sitting on the couch. She decides to camp there for the night both because of laziness and because her room is right next to Raven's and she's not nearly in the mindset to deal with being anywhere near her. Maybe that'll change tomorrow.
Also, this is serving as a prototype for mixing story and porn. Both are great on their own, but together, they're unmatched. So I wanna try my hand with it. So hopefully, ya like it....alright, dassitdassall.
"Hmm…B7," Yang guesses,
"Miss," Ruby responds, earning a grunt in return, "...E…2?"
"Dammit!"
"Hahaha! I told you, Ms. Doubtfire! You! Can't! Beat me! I'm the best! I am the very powerful! Witness the true greatness shining upon you!"
The two sisters share a laugh after the display of dumbassery from the young girl.
"Oh, calm down, Ms. Braggart," Yang replies, cleaning up the game, "You won a couple of board games. So what? Any joe schmoe could get lucky twice."
"Uh huh. Keep finding different ways of coping with the fact that you're getting your butt kicked by your little sister."
"Alright, big shot. Gloves are off now. Which game's next?"
Ruby takes a moment to think of her options, but she's soon interrupted as her father suddenly swoops her up in the air, causing her to squeal in joy as he turns her about before setting her down on her feet and kneeling down to her level.
"I've got a game for ya," he says, looking her in the eyes and poking her nose, "It's single player, though. So Yang can't join in, unfortunately. It's called 'brush your teeth and head on up to bed'. Patent pending."
"Awww."
"I know, I know. But you've already been up half an hour past your bedtime. You've gotta go to bed at some point, Rubes."
"5 more minutes?"
"In another lifetime maybe."
"Pleeease?"
"Ruby."
Yang chuckles at the back and forth before deciding to go with ol' reliable.
"Don't worry, Ruby. Tomorrow's gonna be much better anyways. We'll get to play more with more time in our arsonal?"
"Yaaay!" Ruby rejoices with Tai turning to her with a feigned look of disapproval of the plan,
"And how do you plan to make good on that promise, young lady?"
"Come on, she's a kid," Yang replies, "She's gotta have some fun."
"You're half right. She's still a kid. So she needs to be in bed at the appropriate time or everything falls out of whack."
"Ok, ok, how's about this: we play three quarters past her bedtime."
"...Ten minutes."
"Two and a half quarters."
"Twelve minutes and you only do half the dishes from now on."
"Two quarters and I take care of dinner every visit."
"...Alright, deal."
Ruby rejoices from the compromise, not knowing that that's practically the same deal that they've had for the past few months.
"Ok, but that's tomorrow. This is tonight."
"Ok, ok."
Ruby then latches onto Yang's waist, embracing her in a warm hug, which Yang reciprocates. She then ruffles her little sister's hair before poking her sides, earning cute giggles in response.
"Alright, see ya tomorrow, sis. Don't destroy the place while I'm gone."
"No promises," Ruby replies with a grin,
"Guess that's all I'm gonna get. Whatever. Shoo, ya little rascal."
Yang scoots the girl away with her giggling in response before heading upstairs to her bathroom, leaving Tai and Yang to their own conversation.
"Ok, serious time," Tai says, turning to his daughter and folding his arms, "Are you ok?"
"I'm good. Honest. This stopped meaning as much as it did after the first visit. Her smile does a lot, y'know?"
"Yeah. I know what you mean there. But I just wanna make sure. If…she's making you uncomfortable in any way-..."
"Dad, I'm fine. I swear. Just a matter of getting her off my ass at times."
"Yuuup. And speaking of which-..."
He pulls out his phone, looking at the time. He then recoils as he receives his answer.
"9:38. That's gonna be a fun conversation at this time of night. Want me to chaufer?"
"Nah. Not like she'll have the balls to do anything to me. Or even care enough to really make a big deal out of it. Plus, you've still got a rowdy little monster to tend to."
"Yeah, guess you're right. Ok, stay safe, sweetheart. I love you."
"Love you, too."
They embrace each other in a hug with Tai kissing the top of Yang's head before they separate and Yang heads out the front door. As she rides home on her bike, Yang, just so happens to spot her favorite Mexican restaurant. And just as suspiciously, she suddenly develops a craving for a meal of some sort.
'Well, if I'm gonna be late, might as well be hella late,' she thinks to herself as she stops at the restaurant.
After parking her bike, she places her keys in her pocket before heading inside the building, taking in the wonderous scent of the Mexican environment. She then steps forward to the hostess, who's already ready for her.
"Hi, there, Yang," she greets with a beaming smile,
"Hey, Beth," Yang greets back,
"A bit late to go out of your way to come here, isn't it?"
"I'm just coming from my dad's, actually. Then I saw that this place was still open, so…y'know…what the hell? Can never go wrong with Mexican, right?"
"You just wanna piss your mom off, don't you?"
"Heh. No getting past you, Bethine."
"Yeah, I figured. Well, you're gonna have to wait a little bit. About…five…ten minutes?"
"Oh, please, take your time. I am in no rush at all."
They share a chuckle before Yang takes a seat in the waiting area, pulling out her phone and scrolling away. And after half an hour of waiting, Yang's finally met with Beth's presence, garnering her attention.
"Oh, hey, there," she greets after removing an earbud,
"Hey. Just wanted to let you know that a table's finally ready."
"Really? Wow. That was quick. You've got a fat tip in your future, young lady."
"Wow. That's a first."
"Don't get used to it. It isn't exactly my treat tonight."
She reaches into her purse and pulls out a wallet before opening it, revealing her mother's picture. Beth brings a hand to her mouth, gasping and chuckling at the absurdity at hand. Yang then brings a finger to her lips, shushing her as she takes a hundred dollar bill from the wallet and pushes it into Beth's pocket in her jeans. Beth, not objecting to the gift, zips her lips before leading Yang to her table.
"Alright, what'll ya have?" Beth questions as she prepared to jot down the order,
"Hmm," Yang replies, looking at the menu and browsing, "I'll just have the supreme nachos, the grand chimichanga dinner, and…let's go with a fajita plate to really seal the deal."
"Sprites?"
"Sprites."
"Alright, we'll have that out for ya in a jiff."
"Awesome. Take your time. No rush."
Beth closes her notepad and heads off, leaving Yang to her own endeavors again. And aside from the constant dispensing of her beverage, Yang doesn't see much of the hostess. That is until nearly an hour later when she finally receives her food.
"Ok, here's your fajitas, your chimichanga dinner, your cheesy supreme nachos, and just for good measure another Sprite for ya."
"Oh, you spoil me, Beth."
"Only the best for our guests. And if you're wondering about the time, I took the liberty of telling the cooks to really make the order special by not having it that high on their priorities. Such an order takes precise measurements, y'know?"
"You are just a delight."
"I do what I can. If you need anything else, don't hesitate to yell."
"Good to know. Thanks."
Beth then steps away as Yang takes a few bites of her nachos and a few drinks of her drink. And after about fifteen more minutes of being on her phone, she ignores the abundance of text messages she's getting and takes a look at her percentage, which shows a decent thirty percent. Which should be more than enough to get her home with her music.
"Hey," Beth says, approaching her table, noticing she's barely touched her food, "Everything alright?"
"Yeah. I'm actually about to head home. Any way I can get to-go boxes and cups for these?"
"Comin' right up."
She then goes to retrieve the boxes, cups, and bag. Once she returns, Yang packs up her food and drinks before reaching inside her mother's wallet and presenting eight more hundred dollar bills.
"One for everyone in the establishment," she says, placing the wallet back into her purse, "Thanks again."
"No, no. Thank you. Greatest customer ever. Tell your mom I said hi."
"Got it. Night."
"Night, Yang. Drive safe."
Yang collects her barings before stepping out of the establishment and heading home. After parking her bike, she grabs her food and walks up to the front door, retrieving her keys and mentally preparing for the upcoming hellfire that awaits her on the other side. After unlocking the door, she steps inside and closes it, taking a breath.
'5, 4, 3, 2,'
"It's late," she hears Raven's voice say in the living room, "Where were you?"
"With dad, remember?" Yang replies, not even looking at her as she heads into the kitchen,
"You should've been here at 9:15. It's damn near midnight. I'm not gonna ask again. Tell me where you were."
"Out."
"Yang, I'm not in the mood. Where the hell were you? And why weren't you answering me?"
Yang doesn't even acknowledge her. She just stores her food in the fridge. Not content with being ignored, Raven stands up from the couch and heads into the kitchen, blocking the exit.
"Answer me!" she snaps,
"What, a girl can't just enjoy the late night drives like everyone else?" Yang replies, overflowing with smarm, unphased by her mother's tone,
"Yang Xiao Long, I asked you a fucking question! Answer it! Your ass is here before 9:30! That's the rule here! Why are you just getting here at fucking midnight?!"
"Oh, doth my ears deceive me? Is the same mouth preaching punctuality bullshit to me right now attached to the same woman who couldn't find it in her busy schedule to spend a second with her own daughter for the entirety of her adolescence?! Is that really what's going on here?!"
"Don't you take that tone of voice with me! I'm your mother!"
"Could've fooled me, Ms. I-take-the-family-out-of-'family-business'!"
"Well, I'm here now! So as long as that fact remains, you do what I say when I say if you wanna keep living under my fucking roof!"
"Yeah, your fucking roof that's in dad's name! Yup! Your fucking roof that you don't spend a damn dime on! Right, right! It just bothers the shit outta you whenever you don't have control over every little thing, doesn't it?!"
Raven takes a few steps forward, folding her arms as she gets inches away from her daughter's unperturbed face. She then says in a low tone,
"No. What bugs me is someone who doesn't know their place in environments that don't typically favor them because of some self-righteous phase they're going through. And once you've seen your fair share of the same routine of someone being stupid and shooting their mouth off at someone who's more than willing to pop it back in place, you tend to find it getting a bit old after a while. Now, what you will do is head to your room. Then tomorrow, once whatever this is that's making you delude yourself into thinking that you're hot shit wears off, you will apologize to me. And I'm not gonna hear another word outta you. Do I make myself clear?"
Yang clasps her hands behind her back, giving her mother the most nonchalant look she can muster before matching her tone with,
"Or what? What exactly is gonna happen if I don't make that little fantasy of yours a reality? See, I'm not one of your little subjects. Once you've run into enough bullies who push you for their own pleasures, you tend to find out they're just pussies who can't stand being pushed back. So…I'm pushing back. Whatcha gonna do about it?...Pussy?"
She punctuates her point, bringing her hand to her mother's shoulder and shoving her. Raven closes her eyes, taking a breath before chuckling to herself as she looks into her daughter's eyes, which are now slowly shifting from lilac to their blood red shade.
"Ok," she says, "You're your own person. Do whatever you wanna do."
She then steps aside, allowing her daughter to leave the kitchen. Yang gives her a smug smirk before accepting her invitation, being sure to bump into her shoulder in passing. But just when she makes contact with her, Raven grabs her daughter by her hair and yanks her back to face her. Yang, anticipating the maneuver, shifts her body towards her mother before delivering a powerful headbutt to her lip, causing her to stumble back to the fridge.
Yang glares daggers at her, daring her to make another move. Raven brings two fingers to her lip, wiping away the blood from it before darting at Yang. Yang, again, evades her mother's maneuver, managing to pin her against the wall before kneeing her in her stomach. Raven then grabs onto her leg and trips the other, causing Yang to fall to the floor. She then mounts her daughter, attempting a punch to her jaw, which Yang dodges and counters with a punch of her own, switching their positions and wrapping her hands around Raven's throat.
Raven brings her hands to Yang's arms, digging her nails into her skin. Yang withstands the piercing for a bit before finally giving in and releasing her grip. Raven then manages her foot between them and kicks Yang back against a nearby cabinet. She then sits up and the pair just sit in their current positions, breathless and scowling at each other.
"I fucking hate you," Yang declares, making her way back to her feet,
"I hate you right back, you conceited little bitch."
"Apple doesn't fall far from the tree in that regard, huh?"
"I wish you were never born."
"I wish Ruby was spared the burden of being birthed by you."
Silence. Raven can only recoil at that last statement. Even Yang's surprised by the phrase. She never wanted her sister to be involved in this in any way. It just slipped out. But the damage has been done. And that damage is made abundantly clear as what Yang sees next shocks her to her core. Raven's…tearing up. And without another word, she steps out of the kitchen and rushes upstairs. Moments later, Yang hears her bedroom door slam shut.
And after moments of coming to terms with what just happened, Yang goes to the fridge and fetches herself a cup of Sprite before heading to the living room and turning on the TV after sitting on the couch. She decides to camp there for the night both because of laziness and because her room is right next to Raven's and she's not nearly in the mindset to deal with being anywhere near her. Maybe that'll change tomorrow.
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This Shudder one shot takes place between Shudder: The College Years and The Last Shapeshifter. I have tried to write all but the epilogue in a way that if you haven't read those you'll be able to understand what's going on.
It was Richard Johnson’s birthday, and he was a man on a mission. He was going to pick up a beautiful woman in a hotel bar using only his appearance and charm. He hadn’t needed to rely on those attributes in a very long time, but still managed to have a different woman in his bed every night. That was one of the perks to being married to a bodyhopper.
For the ten years that she’d been a bodyhopper, Nancy Johnson loved bringing home women that would entice her husband to fuck her senseless. If a pretty cashier caught his eye, or the cute teller at the bank, or a seductive college cheerleader, or one of the many local milfs, Nancy would make sure each of their bodies spent some very intimate time with her man. She’d even gone on a few trips to bring in some celebrities that he’d crushed on forever.
Nancy became bodyhopper during an experiment run by her twin children, Derek and Aubrey. They’d used an electrical charge to spark a gene inside of her. They knew it was there, because it ran in their family. Once activated, she gained the ability to pass her soul from one body to the next. In doing so, she gained access to that person’s mind and could pass for them with the greatest of ease. She had used it to seduce her husband, and eventually persuaded him to leave her aging body behind.
The couple were still very much in love, and when Nancy wasn’t fucking her husband’s brains out in a body typically younger than her previous one, they were enjoying hobbies and conversations that were akin to people who had been together for many years. They didn’t go out on many dates though since Nancy was usually in the body of a woman in her 20’s that could have been Richard’s granddaughter. It was here that the trouble started.
A week ago Nancy had gently teased her husband while in the guise of a cute, blonde 21 year old. She told him he’d never be able to pick up someone like her in real life because of the age gap. She thought it would turn him on. One of his favorite things was when she brought home a young woman and began calling him ‘Daddy.’ Perhaps because his 55th birthday was a week away, or the fact that they could no longer grow old together, he took it poorly.
“Age is just a number,” he snapped back. “I could go into a bar, any bar, and have a woman on my arm by the end of the night.”
Nancy had then made the catastrophic mistake of laughing at this remark. The idea of her husband with his wrinkles and gray hair going to a club and using his cheesy lines on a woman to take her back home was honestly absurd to her.
Richard’s pride took a hit, and he went to sleep on the couch that night, and no amount of cajoling or seduction could get him to return. This was also a blow to Nancy, because a bodyhopper continually craved sex. It seemed to be part of the gene. In instances like these, she’d had to seek other options. In that case, she’d taken the blonde home and fucked her boyfriend.
Nancy fucked a lot of boyfriends and husbands when she inevitably returned a host body. Richard knew this of these indiscretions, but also knew that as horny as he often was, his wife had an itch that he couldn’t always scratch, especially as he got older. He’d never resented her for it, because he’d been around a few bodyhoppers the last decade. Derek was one, and like Nancy, no longer had a body of his own. Aubrey was too, but had to keep her body hooked up to life support if she ever hopped someone.
Then there was the third bodyhopper they all knew. The one who had passed the gene on to so many people over the last few centuries. His name was Nevyn, and he’d almost ruined all of their lives.
Nevyn had possessed Nancy for a few months long ago, living with the Johnsons and teasing Derek relentlessly. But after Nevyn lost his bodyhopping power and became stuck in Derek’s body, he’d briefly aligned himself with the Johnsons in the pursuit of getting Derek his body back. They’d studied the gene and made several breakthroughs, and somewhere during this process, Nevyn felt sidelined, and eventually betrayed. He used what he knew to get his powers back by himself, which led to a close friend of the Johnsons named Bekka to lose her life, although the twins often spoke of her like she was still alive.
Nevyn’s actions spurred the twins along two different paths that ran parallel to each other. Aubrey continued unlocking the secrets of the bodyswapping gene to try and find a way to track it, while Derek pursued Nevyn by thinking like him, and looking for his telltale signatures in society.
A month ago, Derek had success, and had intercepted Nevyn. In a phone call, Derek had given his parents the good news that it was finally over.
“Nevyn’s dead. He knew I was chasing him and he ran into traffic. A second later he was hit by a bus. After all this time, that’s how it ends. It’s so strange. We finally all have our lives back.”
The Johnsons had all moved on as best they could, with Aubrey stating she was going back to college to get her doctorate, and Derek possibly moving back home.
But tonight, none of this was on Richard’s mind. Because tonight he was celebrating his birthday. Because of Nancy’s insensitive remarks, husband and wife made a wager. If he could pick up a woman at a local hotel bar and get her to go upstairs to a room for sex, she’d join them for a threesome.
“But what if she doesn’t want a threesome?” Richard had asked.
“You mean if I can’t convince her with my very impressive feminine wiles?” his wife had responded with a laugh. “Then I guess I’ll be doing some very fast hopping. Wouldn’t be the first time.”
This is why Richard now found himself up past his bedtime at a crowded hotel bar where the music was too loud. He’d much rather be at home, waiting to see who his wife was bringing him that night. But his pride was on the line.
Even though he’d been out of the dating game for a long time, he felt confident he’d be able to land a hottie and take her up to the hotel room they’d booked. He scanned the sea of people. It seemed full of possibilities. He locked eyes with a pretty raven haired woman behind the bar as she mixed a drink. She winked at him. Nancy had chosen this bartender as her vantage point to watch the proceeding.
She totally wanted him to win, which is why she pointed towards a small circular table where a couple of young women sat, chatting and giggling away. After observing them for a few seconds, he shot an upturned eyebrow back at Nancy. He knew these women were at least 21 years of age, but probably not a day older. They still had their whole lives ahead of them. He was just the man that could teach them a thing or two. Richard strode over confidently, believing that this would be over quickly, he’d be fucking one or both of them within the hour, and could go to sleep.
He assessed them as he got closer. The girl to his left was a curly haired brunette with a dazzling smile. She wore a short black dress, but didn’t have a lot going on in the chest department. That was okay. He was always partial to brunettes. They reminded him of his wife and his daughter Aubrey, although they had both been stacked.
To her right was a shoulder length blonde who was offering a generous amount of cleavage to all passersby in a low red blouse with lipstick that matched. His eyes lingered on her exposed skin, and it distracted him so much that he forgot to say anything upon his arrival.
“Can we…help you with something old man?” the blonde said with a pitying smirk.
“He looks lost,” the brunette giggled. “It seems like he’s trying to find directions to your tits.”
“Don’t even!” the blonde squealed, and whacked the brunette on the shoulder playfully. “I’m sure this grandpa is harmless.”
“Or he’s a dirty old man,” the brunette clapped back. “He’s gotta be, right? I mean he came over to our table. To what? Hit on us?” She crossed her legs and looked up at him as if she’d caught him doing something scandalous. “Do you even know how old we are, mister?”
“Um, uh, 21?” Richard replied as he tried to recover from their verbal assault.
“I am,” the blonde said, “But Kinzie here is only 19.”
“How did you…” Richard started to ask.
But the girl identified as Kinzie interjected. “Fake ID grandpa. What? They didn’t have those back in your day?”
“I don’t think they had that kind of technology back then,” the blonde added.
“Just had the wheel and fire, right gramps?”
“I am not that old!” Richard fumed.
“Yeah? How old are you then?” Kinzie asked with a raised eyebrow as she haughtily picked up her drink to take a sip.
“Old enough to…uh…teach you a few things,” Richard said as he tried to turn this interaction around.
This elicited a cringe response on both their faces that ended when they looked at each other and burst into a giggle fit.
The blonde’s eyes drifted down to Richard’s crotch, then back up to meet his. “Can you even get it up? I hear that can be a real problem for senior citizens.”
“I’m sure he can, Mckayla, withe the help of a pill!”
The giggle fit resumed in earnest, and Richard found himself wanting to retreat, from this table, from the premises from civilization. This had been a horrible idea.
Suddenly the bartender was at his side carrying a tray that had three drinks in martini glasses on it. “Here’s your drink sir, and how nice of you to buy a round for these two lovely ladies.”
“Ugh,” Kinzie said with an eye roll. “Well, a free drink’s a free drink.
She reached for it, but Mckayla hesitated and asked the bartender, “He didn’t pay you to slip something into it, did he?”
The bartender’s pretty face faltered as if she’d been slapped. But then she set her jaw, and said tightly, “I can assure you that he’d never have to do anything of the sort. Not when he has me.”
As Kinzie’s fingers curled around the thin stem of a glass, the bartender’s fingers brushed against her for the briefest of moments in a way that so often happens while passing something from one person to the next. A fleeting second of contact that feels both innocuous and yet strangely intimate. It is usually a moment that is here, then gone, but this time, it left a lingering effect in the form of a shudder that began in Kinzie’s hand.
“Excuse me?” Mckayla asked loudly in response to what the bartender had just said. But she got no response, because the bartender’s gaze had gone slack.
“Um, Mckayla, I think maybe I’ve had too much to drink,” Kinzie said as she looked at the tremor rapidly spreading up her arm.
Mckayla didn’t look at her friend but continued to study the bartender. It was like she was asleep, but her eyes were open. She was just standing as still as a statue holding the tray. “You’ve only had one Kinzie. I swear, you’re such a lightweight. You really should be building up more of a tolerance for the parties at college.”
“No, really, I…I think I want to go…” but the rest of what she might have said was lost as her mind was no longer her own.
“Just kidding!” Kinzie suddenly squealed. “I feel fine! In fact, I think we should go to this handsome guy’s room. You got a room, don’t ya mister?”
Mckayla’s jaw dropped as she turned her head away from the bartender towards her friend. “Are you fucking kidding me girl? You’ve got to be insane if you think that I’m going anywhere with grandpa here just cause he got us a free-”
But she stopped mid sentence as her friend grabbed her wrist, and it too began to shudder.
“What the hell? Why’s my arm fucking doing that? Am I having a stroke or some-”
But then Mckayla went quiet for a second before looking up at the bartender and taking the drink she’d previously insinuated was spiked. “Thank you, ma’am. Now go back and attend to your duties.”
“Yes,” the pretty bartender said in a flat tone before she turned away and went back behind the bar.
“So, stud,” Mackayla said as she eyed Richard up and down as if he were a snack. “I believe you were about to sit down and talk us two lovely ladies into having a threesome with you?” She set her glass down on the table and touched her friend’s hand.
Shudder.
A second later Kinzie said, “Yeah. We’d totally say yes. You can take us upstairs to your room and fuck us stupid. We’re both really nimble. We were both cheerleaders!” She touched Mckayla’s hand.
Shudder.
“I bet you like cheerleaders, don’t ya?” Mckayla said with a wink. “Especially ones that like kissing each other.” She looked at her friend and said, “Kiss me passionately.”
“Yes,” Kinzie said, and then their lips were together as they kissed each other deeply.
Shudder.
“So, what do you say?” Kinzie asked with her thousand watt smile.
Shudder.
“Please take us horny sluts up to your room and be our daddy for the night.”
This sudden reversal of fortune seemed to darken Richard’s mood. “Dammit Nancy! The deal was I do this on my own!”
Several people glanced at the tiny outburst from the older gentleman standing in front of the two young women. He seemed to be reprimanding them for something. Richard seemed to understand he’d made a scene, and smiled bashfully. A few seconds later, everyone went back to their drinks and conversations.
“I’m sorry, Richard,” Nancy’s voice came quietly out of Mckayla’s mouth. “It’s just, I heard these cunts being horrible to you and I thought we could teach them a lesson.” She put a hand on his leg and began sliding it upwards. “Together.”
Mckayla’s voice was back then. “Please mister. Please fuck some manners into us. Kinzie and I would learn so much from you.” She touched her friend on the arm.
Shudder.
“Yeah. Teach us Daddy,” Kinzie whined. “We’ll be good girls for you. We’ll even let you-”
“Enough,” Richard said quietly but firmly. “Anyone I take upstairs tonight will come because they want to. So…get out of these girls and let me get back to finding that person.”
“Fine!” Nancy said with an eye roll. “You still interested in teaching them a lesson though?”
“What did you have in mind?”
Nancy waved over the bartender who approached them quickly. Her eyes seemed less vacant than before, but there was still a bit of a haze there. Nancy casually brushed the back of Kinzie’s hand against the bartender, who shuddered.
“Well,” the bartender said, and she sounded as if she were recommending a drink. “Since you two are such good friends, you’re going to get each other off. I want you to go into the ladies room and strip naked, then toss your clothes out the window in there. Then go into a stall and begin licking and fingering each other. Try to make each other cum as fast as you can.”
“Yes,” they both said in perfect unison. They immediately stood, and with robotic grace walked to the ladies room.
“Well fuck me,” Richard said. “Now I want to go to the ladies room.”
“You had your chance,” Nancy said with a smirk. “Although I did memorize Mckayla’s address if you ever want me to go pay her a visit.”
A huge grin crept over Richard’s face. “I love you.”
“I know. Now get back on the horse and go get ‘em tiger. I’ll be over there watching. Best of luck. I do want you to have a happy birthday!”
“I think I’ll go hit on someone near the ladies room.”
“You do that, dear,” she said with a laugh, then went back to resume bartending.
Richard set off in the direction the two girls had gone. He passed by several people that looked like couples or were just trying to relax by themselves. He considered hitting on a few of them, but crossed off the ones that looked under 26. No more early twentysomethings. Too obnoxious and rude. He’d go aim a bit higher, which, he didn’t want to admit, would probably up his chances of success.
He decided on a professionally dressed woman in a light blue blouse and dark skirt sitting by herself. She wore her sandy blonde hair in a bun. She had glasses, and was staring intently at a laptop. If he struck out with her, she’d probably let him down gently unlike those first two had. He wondered if they were in the stall by now, their naked bodies pressed together invading each other’s holes with their tongues and fingers in a desperate attempt to make the other cum.
“This seat taken?” he asked with what he believed to be a suave demeanor.
“Huh, what?” the woman said, not bothering to look at him. “No? You can take it if you want.”
Richard was confused for a second, then understood. “No, I don’t need it for another table. I wanted to sit with you.”
This caused her to look up at him like he’d just said something very stupid. “Why?”
“Because…” he said, as he tried to think of something clever. He was beginning to wonder if he’d ever actually been clever in his life. “Because I wanted to get to know the prettiest woman in this bar.”
Her eyebrow raised and she gave him a quick up and down assessment. Then her lips pursed together like she’d tasted something sour. “Um…no. Thank you.”
Richard had been in sales for a long time, and never accepted the first no. Sometimes not the second. He could do this. He just needed a chance to show her what a catch he was. “I really think you’ll like me if you get to know me.”
“Probably not,” she said dismissively. “Because I tend not to like married men who hit on other women.”
This comment took Richard aback. “What? Why would you think I’m-”
“Wedding ring, dipshit,” the woman said, pointing at his left hand.
Despite the fact that Nancy’s actual body had been declared dead and they’d had a funeral and everything, to Richard, and to Nancy, she was very much alive. Of course he wore his ring. He’d never even thought about taking it off until this very second. Now he realized how foolish it had been to wear it while trying to pick up women in a bar. Then he had an idea.
“Oh, um…yeah, I’m…a widower. Just can’t bear to take it off.”
The woman’s eyes went wide and her face went very red. She began fidgeting with her hands as she apologetically blurted out, “Oh shit! I’m so sorry. I should not have…uh, has she been gone long? I mean…I didn’t mean to ask something so personal! I feel so bad! I honestly don’t know what to say.”
“How about you just let me buy you a drink and we get to know each other,” Richard offered as his confidence level soared to new heights. He glanced towards his wife behind the bar and signaled that he had someone on the hook.
The woman grimaced and said, “It’s really flattering, but…I have a deadline and-”
Richard interrupted. “It was a few years back when I lost her, but it still feels like yesterday. She was the love of my life, you know. Tonight was the first night I worked up the courage to put myself back out there.”
The woman’s expression became one of deepest sympathy and she closed her laptop. “I…I suppose one drink wouldn’t hurt. Uh…I’m Natalie.”
“Yes!” Richard exclaimed, and he couldn’t help but give a little fist pump. “That’ll show her.”
“Show who?”
Without thinking he said, “My wife. She didn’t think I could still get a woman to give me the time of…” He trailed off as he recognized his mistake.
The woman’s face shifted into one of loathing. “Wait! Was that whole dead wife thing a line?”
“No, I-”
“You’re disgusting. Go find someone else to be sleazy to,” she said with a wave of her hand.
“So close,” Richard said as he stood. Back to square one. He was a few steps away when a hand grabbed his shoulder and spun him around.
“Fine! Natalie said with a bit of contempt still etched on her face. “You wanna fool around, I could use a destresser. Let’s go.”
Richard couldn’t believe his luck! “I have a room we can-”
“I know someplace closer,” she said, and still clasping his hand, she drug him to the ladies room and pushed open the door.
They both stopped at the sight of two naked women who appeared to be having a wild night. Their hair was a mess and their lipstick was smeared. They were both attempting to cover their bodies with paper towels, but it was not working very well. At the sight of the woman, Kinzie said, “Ohmygosh can you please help us? We need some clothes. Can you-”
“Ah!” Mckayla yelled. “There’s a man with her!”
She made a better attempt to cover her boobs, but her crotch was very much exposed. Richard knew where some of Kinzie’s lipstick went, because some remnants of her shade were between Mckayla’s legs.
“It’s the old guy from before!” Kinzie hissed, and they both darted into a stall.
“Looks like this one has other stuff going on,” Natalie quipped, and pulled Richard out and into the men’s. She led him to a stall, pushed him inside and said, “Take off your pants.”
Richard’s fingers flew to his crotch where they momentarily seemed to forget how to unbuckle a belt.
“Let me help,” Natalie said with an eye roll. She sank to her knees and was much more adept at getting Richard’s pants off than he seemed to be. She made no pretense of why they were there as she yanked down his underwear. She took his cock in her hand, holding it up to be level with her face. Then she leaned forward and took him in her mouth.
“Oh fuck! That was fast!” he said. His mojo was back! It might not have worked the way he’d planned, but a win was still a-
He felt it then. A telltale shudder. He’d felt it many, many times while he and his wife made love. A shudder was the telltale sign of a bodyhopper moving into a new host. But it continued to happen intermittently while the hopper remained inside. It was a brief struggle of one soul dominating the other. It was like a reflex, and could even be done while a hopper slept, but it was also very noticeable, especially for someone who had been around hoppers as much as Richard.
“Seriously Nancy! Again!” he said as he pushed Natalie’s head back. He’d really been enjoying himself too, but his dick was suddenly deflating as he realized he’d been duped.
The woman’s face looked up at him sheepishly. “I thought I could get you off real quick before I shuddered and then you’d have a win and you could take me upstairs and fuck.”
Richard frowned, pissed that he was still 0 for 2. “Well, you almost got me there. Another 20 seconds of your world class dick sucking and I would have busted all over your face.”
She reached up and stroked his cock, which twitched hopefully in her hand. “You still could, darling. Seriously. I’m so horny in this body. I’d love it if you took me right here in this stall.”
Richard had to hand it to his wife. She could bring out the sluttiest part of any woman. He could take her right here and she’d never know because of how Nancy could alter her memories. But he shook his head and helped her to her feet.
“Wait! When did you even hop her?” he asked as he pulled his pants up.
She gave a small smile. “I’d just arrived to take your drink order when you got up to leave her table. A second later I was her, and pulled you into the bathroom so you wouldn’t notice the bartender right behind us.”
“That was so funny seeing those two girls in the bathroom.”
“That’s why I took you in there first. Did you see the lipstick on the one girl’s hoo ha?”
“Oh yeah.”
The couple burst out laughing, but then Richard said, “Okay, I’m going back out there. No help this time, understood?”
Nancy slumped Natalie’s shoulders. “I don’t think you know how much I want you to succeed, dear. I really need it right now. I might just rub one out in the stall real quick when you leave. Unless you want to watch?” She began to unbutton her blouse while she bit her lower lip. “You could still help this uptight business woman unwind?”
Richard left in a hurry before his wife could tempt him further. What did he do to deserve such a seductive creature?
As he left the restroom, he eyed the occupants of the bar with new determination. Third time’s the charm. He’d just…pick someone closer to his age. Not his preferred choice, but a gal with experience could certainly bring a lot to the table, or in this case, the bedroom. He pocketed his wedding ring as he circled the perimeter, finally coming back near the entrance where other hotel guests passed close by.
It was there he saw someone he’d passed by earlier. A woman in her early 40’s that he hadn’t really considered. She was quite striking though with her long auburn hair and legs that went on for miles. Richard thought she somewhat resembled Nancy in the face. And also the boobs. The woman was stacked.
She had a duffel bag on the chair next to her. Richard put a hand on the handle of the bag and said, “Mind if I move this so I can have a seat?” As he started to lift it, it began to shake. And growl.
The woman’s eyebrows shot up and she protectively reached for it and pulled it onto her lap. “Have a seat if you must, but Daisy doesn’t like to be jostled unnecessarily.”
Out of the top of the bag popped the face of an adorable Yorkshire terrier. Her furry brown face looked up into his and gave a small yip.
“Good girl,” the woman said with a small smile as she pulled the terrier out of the bag and put her on her lap. “She can be a very good judge of character. You must be a bad man.” The terrier growled at him.
Richard put his hands up and chuckled, then said to the small dog, “I can assure you I meant no harm little lady.” He held out a hand for her to sniff. The terrier did, and then gave his palm a lick.
The woman assessed him, and by her expression, she liked what she saw. “Perhaps you’re not terrible. Go ahead and have a seat.”
Richard did so. “I didn’t know you could have dogs in here.”
“You probably can’t,” the woman said with an air of indifference. “But she’s my emotional support animal. That’s what I tell everyone anyways.”
This annoyed Richard, but he tried hard to focus on her figure, something which the woman didn’t seem to mind him eyeing. “So, what’s your sign?”
This elicited a shrill laugh from the woman. “I haven’t heard that one in awhile.”
“I really need to get some new material.”
“Do you find yourself coming out to hotel bars often enough that you need to constantly refresh it?”
“Er, no,” Richard said. “I usually just stick with the basics. Like, hi, I’m Richard, and you are a very beautiful woman that I would like to get to know better.”
She cocked her head at him, studying him closely like a cat might before pouncing on a mouse, then said, “That was a much better line. I’m Crystal. What would you like to know?”
The two hit it off, and Richard found Crystal’s banter refreshing. She didn’t look at him like he was ancient, or pitied him in any way. Best of all though, she hadn’t shuddered once.
They were mid conversation discussing childhood pets when the bartender came up and asked, “Can I get you two anything?”
“I’ll take a bourbon,” Richard said, not taking his eyes away from Crystal.
“Nothing for me,” Crystal said as she tapped a glass she’d barely touched.
They both just stared at each other, mirroring a smile that belied a bubbling chemistry under the surface.
The spell was momentarily broken by the sound of the bartender clearing her throat. “Will you be taking that bourbon up to your room…sir?”
Richard looked up at the raven haired bartender. “In a bit. We’re in no rush.”
The bartender’s eyes narrowed, and her smile became tight lipped. “Of course…sir. By all means, take your time.”
As she walked away, she touched the shoulder of a woman passing by, who shuddered. That woman whispered something into the bartender’s ear, who went about her duties a moment later.
Richard was oblivious to this. He was enjoying the massive ego boost Crystal was giving him. He found himself opening up to her, sharing things like it was a first date. He was used to seeing different women all the time, but the conversation was always the same, because his wife knew everything about him. This was nice, so much so that he didn’t mind talking and throwing back a few. He was slightly worried that he’d pissed Nancy off, because she acted like she didn’t know him whenever she brought the drinks.
“Well, this has been lovely,” Crystal finally said. “But I should be going.”
“Oh, um, I was wondering if you wanted to…” Richard started, not entirely sure how to seal the deal.
She grinned at him and finished the proposition for him. “If I wanted to come up to your room and we have casual sex like grown adults?”
“Uh…” Richard stammered. “Y-yeah. I guess…that.”
“You’re very cute when you’re flustered.”
“Well if you’d like to see me flustered you should see me try to take my pants off when I’m really excited.”
She laughed. “I feel like I’m missing something.”
“Sorry, it’s just been awhile since I…”
“Mommy, mommy, she’s got a dog!”
A boy about five or six walking by the hotel bar area with his mom had broken free of her hand and ran to their table. The boy put his hand on the dog’s fur, and gave it a hard pet, causing the dog to shake at the sudden attention.
“Mason!” his mom snapped as she grabbed the boy’s arm and pulled him back. “We ask permission before touching someone’s pet. It might have bit you. I’m so sorry,” she said to Crystal as she backpedaled out of the bar with her son.
“No harm done,” Crystal said graciously.
“Mason, use your feet,” the mom admonished. “I feel like I’m dragging you out of here.”
When they were out of earshot, Crystal said, “Kids. They never can resist a cute dog like Daisy.” She gave her pet a loving pat. The dog looked at Richard and yipped playfully. Then she kept yipping.
“Well, if you’re going to start making all that noise, I probably should get you up to a room,” she said. “And it seems like we have options,” she said looking slyly at Richard. “Yours or mine?”
They both laughed and got up from the table. Richard let Crystal take the lead so he could wave at the pretty bartender, who didn’t seem to understand why he was pointing at Crystal and giving her the thumbs up. The bartender just smiled awkwardly back at him and returned the thumbs up.
Richard was glad his wife was letting him get a head start, knowing she’d show up soon. He and Crystal got in the elevator and faced the closing doors. He pressed the button to his floor, and as he did, he didn’t notice the dog’s nose reaching up out of the bag to press against Crystal’s hip. Nor did he see Crystal shudder a moment later.
“Let’s go to mine actually,” she said. “It’s on the top floor. The penthouse suite. Great view.”
“Um…” Richard said, unsure of what to do. It was okay. He could just call down and let his wife know they’d received an upgrade. “Sure thing.”
As soon as the doors were shut, her mouth was on his. He responded in kind, and their hands roamed freely about each other. The dog was oddly silent despite being jostled.
They practically fell out into the empty hallway when the doors opened. They were both panting and pulling at each other’s clothes as they stumbled their way to an ornate door. Crystal pulled out a card from a side pocket of Daisy’s carrier, and pressed it to an electronic device next to the door. The light went green, and the sound of a click could be heard. Crystal pushed her way in, and Richard stepped into a room that was much bigger than the one he thought he’d be sleeping in. There was an entire living room, kitchen, and bedroom area. And as he walked further in, he saw that Crystal hadn’t been kidding. There was an amazing view. He strode to the far side of the living room where a sliding glass door led out to a balcony. He opened it, and stepped out into the night. He was ten stories up, with the city a twinkling sea of lights below him.
“If you’d rather stay out there you can,” a sultry voice called from behind. “But I think you’ll find the view in here much more interesting.”
Richard turned and found that yes, the view was much better inside this penthouse suite. Crystal hand dispensed with her dress, and was standing in a black lingerie set that she must have been wearing underneath in the off chance she got lucky. With a body like hers though, she didn’t need luck. He was just glad he’d been the one she’d decided to take to bed, but he also chalked some of that up to his own good looks and charm.
He came over to her and pulled her into a kiss. He’d expected it to feel different kissing someone that his wife wasn’t possessing. New. Foreign. But…there was a surprising familiarity to it. New mouth, new tongue, but the way their mouths met was how he’d kissed Nancy for so many years.
An annoying sound went off in Crystal’s purse that she’d tossed onto the bed. It disrupted their entwined tongues. “Sorry,” Crystal said as she scooped her purse up. “That’s the alarm on my phone. I need to go…take my medication. High blood pressure.”
“Totally get it,” Richard started to say as Crystal quickly disappeared into the bathroom a few feet away. “I have high cholesterol.” He wasn’t sure if she’d heard all of that, because she’d slammed the door so fast.
What seemed like just a few seconds later though, she came out again. And her hands were behind her back.
“You found those pills fast,” he said. “It takes my wife a long time to dig anything out of her purse.” He went red immediately, as he realized his little slip of the tongue.
“Are you married, Richard?” she asked sweetly as the tension in her bra gave way as she released the clasp. She began to lower it, giving him a great view of her impressive breasts.
“Uh…y-yes,” he said.
“But you’re here with me?” she said in a teasing manner. “And you’re going to fuck me, aren’t you.” She hadn’t said it as a question, but as a fact.
Richard nodded quickly. “I am!”
“Does your wife know you’re here?” Crystal asked as her fingers began to unbutton his shirt.
“Yes, well, no, not here. She knows I’m in the hotel. It’s a long story, you see, it’s my birthday. She said I could have a threesome if I could pick up a woman at the bar.”
Crystal laughed softly. “Oh. So I’m expected to invite someone else up to my suite am I? Is your wife attractive?”
Richard thought that was a rather funny question since Nancy could be anyone she pleased. Currently, she was in that very pretty bartender. “Yeah, she’s…very attractive,” he said earnestly as he pulled out his phone to call the bar. “I can let her we’re in your suite so she can come up and-”
Crystal grabbed the phone from his hand and threw it with a smile onto the bed. “Not just yet. I want you to myself for a little bit. That okay?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said.
She winked at him as she unzipped his pants. “That was the right answer.” And then she was dropping to her knees, pulling his pants down as she went. Her fingers deftly moved to the hem of his boxers, which came down just as fast. “My, my!” she said as Richard’s sizeable erection popped out. She licked her lips at the sight of it. “Someone is very excited to see me.”
“Oh he is,” Richard chuckled. “So how do you want to-” was as far as he got before he gave a happy little strangled moan, because Crystal had taken him in her mouth. And the way she used her tongue, Richard knew this was not her first rodeo. His stamina had increased with age, probably because he was getting laid about every night from a different beautiful woman. But the way Crystal was sucking him, he wasn’t going to last long.
He tried to signal this by tapping her on the head, and then by sputtering a very coherent, “Um...”
But she kept going, getting him right up to the edge, and then…stopped just as quickly as she’d started. She’d seemed to know where his line was, and had backed off in the nick of time.
“Sorry,” she said as she stood and delicately wiped her mouth. “I just had to see if it tasted as good as it looked.”
Richard was trying to catch his breath as he asked, “And?”
“It was even better,” she giggled. Then she led him to the bed, and pushed him onto it. “What’s your favorite position, Richard?” she asked.
“Uh, basically just…”
“Whatever your wife wants?” Crystal finished for him. “You must be happily married,” she added with a wink. “Well, I like to be on top.”
“That works for me,” Richard said happily as he flopped his body against the bed.
Crystal started to crawl on top of him with a seductive smile, when her phone went off again. She blew a strand of hair out of her face as she got up and looked in annoyance in the direction of her phone. “Sorry. Just let me go take care of something real quick.”
“Whatever you need to do,” Richard said. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“I’m counting on it,” she said with a smile as she again slipped quickly into the bathroom.
Richard spied the hotel phone next to the bed, and reached for it.
“How can I help you?” a polite voice asked on the other end.
“Bar please?”
“Certainly.”
A second later the familiar voice of the bartender picked up. “Hello. What drink order would you like sent to your-”
Richard cut her off. “Nancy, it’s me. I’m in the penthouse suite. Come join us as soon as you can.” He heard the turning of the bathroom handle and said, “Love you!”
“Excuse me?” came the voice on the other end, but the receiver was already on its way forcibly back to its cradle.
“Ordering room service?” Crystal asked coyly as she reentered the room. She walked nimbly towards him with searching eyes.
“Huh? Oh, uh, yeah. Hope that’s okay?” Richard noticed she’d left her phone in the bathroom. Hopefully that was the last interruption.
“As long as you charged it to my room,” she said demurely. “Now, where were we? Oh yes. I think I was about to get on top of you and ride your dick until you cum inside my wet pussy.”
Richard stretched out and smiled. “Well, if you must.”
Crystal’s eyes flashed, and she looked almost predatory as she made her way onto the bed. She eyed his cock like it was a prize that was just there for her. She curled her fingers around it and gave it a gentle squeeze. It throbbed in appreciation. She leaned forward and pressed her large breasts against his chest. She made eye contact with him while she used the hand gripping his shaft to guide it in. Her mouth formed an ‘O’ the second he parted her. She stayed there for a moment, with just his tip in, then she rocked her hips forward, and he was suddenly deep inside her.
Richard let out the breath he hadn’t known he was holding when he felt the tip go in. Nancy always watched him very closely whenever he went into new pussy that she’d brought home. Crystal continued watching him closely too.
“So big,” she cooed. “So hard. So…familiar,” she said with a sly smile.
“Familiar?” he asked, his chest rising and falling from the way she was grinding her hips. This woman was something else. She really knew how to use her body.
In lieu of an answer, she leaned down again and kissed him passionately. She flexed her pussy as their tongues danced together.
Richard loved everything this woman was doing. Clearly she had a lot of experience, but what she said, and how she kissed him. It was so like Nancy would kiss him. He tried to ask her about it, but her mouth continued to cover his, almost as if she didn’t want him to talk yet. His hands came up to her face but she intercepted them and pushed them back against the bed, pinning him.
At last Crystal ended the kiss and raised her face up just enough so their noses touched. “Just like old times, Richard,” she purred.
And then her face moved rapidly in front of him, as her whole body gave way to a violent shudder.
Richard’s temper flared and he tried to push up, but Crystal held him down. “Nancy, what the hell! I wanted to do this on my own!”
A wicked smile spread across Crystal’s face as she continued to fuck him very slowly. “Afraid you’re mistaken, Richard. I’m not your wife. But I’m not Crystal either.”
_____________________________________________________________________
One hour earlier.
Nancy hadn’t planned on Richard’s foray back into the dating pool taking this long. She had needs! He knew this. And birthday or no, she needed to scratch that itch. The need to wrap her legs around him had increased exponentially as she watched him successfully hit it off with an attractive middle aged woman.
It was not lost on Nancy that Crystal somewhat resembled her as she had been a decade ago. She wished she could hop her. Find out her story real quick and make sure she wasn’t wasting her husband’s time. But that’d have to wait till later. She saw that every second Crystal spent with Richard was doing wonders for his self esteem. And it was also making Nancy jealous, something she had not felt in some time. She kind of liked it, because watching her husband interact from afar with a beautiful woman that she was not possessing spiked her lust. She wanted them to go upstairs now! But since they were taking their sweet time, Nancy decided to quell some of her desire by popping out for a quickie as someone else.
In a hotel, this prospect was incredibly easy. She grabbed a bottle of champagne and went to the front desk. She hopped the man behind a computer, looked up who was in a honeymoon suite, hopped back into the bartender, and went to one of the corresponding rooms.
There was a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign hanging from the door handle of the room she’d chosen. Nancy knocked anyway. A loud curse was heard along with the sound of giggles. A half a minute later, an attractive young man opened the door wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. He looked flushed and agitated.
“We put the sign on the door,” he spluttered.
“So sorry,” Nancy said as she held out the bottle of champagne. “We forgot to give this to you at the front desk as a way of congratulations.”
The man’s demeanor changed as he saw the expensive looking bottle. He reached out to take it. “Well…thanks I-”
But the words ceased as his fingers brushed the bartender’s, and a shudder spread rapidly through him. He smiled back at the bartender a moment later. “Go resume your duties. This shouldn’t take long.”
“Yes,” the bartender said vacantly, and left.
Nancy shut the door, and let the towel drop. She looked down at a semi flaccid penis that was rapidly reclaiming its hardened status. “Not bad. Now let’s see who’s the lucky recipient of this fine specimen.”
She went deeper into the room and found a gorgeous blonde wearing nothing but a smile. Nancy usually preferred being in a female during sex, but she figured what the hell. She’d show this bride a good time on her wedding night. She climbed confidently onto the bed and spread the woman’s legs.
“Oh!” she gasped. “Jackson you, you seem…more sure of yourself all of a sudden!”
Nancy smiled down at the pretty girl. She’d be letting Jackson keep his memory of what was about to transpire. “I’m just so excited to do this with you for the first time, Lilly.” And with that, Nancy thrust into her, and did her very best to last longer than five minutes. She made it to six, but redeemed herself by some fancy finger work on Lilly after. She got Lilly off three times, and then did some cuddling.
Nancy found the young man’s recovery time impressive, because she was hard again and ready to go in no time. Being in a young stud certainly had its advantages. She couldn’t help but compare Richard’s recovery time, which was 24 hours these days unless he took a pill. She didn’t like when he did that though, because they could be bad for his heart.
Nancy left a well fucked and very happy Lilly in the room to go ‘get ice’ for the champagne. She made sure to let Jackson keep the memory of what happened to be their first sexual encounter, and then hopped back into the bartender.
She surveyed the room and discovered quickly that her husband had left. She perused the bartender’s memories and discovered her husband’s phone call. He wouldn’t be in their room, but had hung up before saying which it was. She’d have to play detective. Thankfully that was very easy to do when you had complete access to someone’s mind from just a touch. She headed to the front desk again to find out where her man was.
___________________________________________________________________________
“What do you mean you’re not my wife,” Richard asked. “I…I saw you shudder, Nancy. Hell, I felt you shudder,” he added with a forced grin. He did not like whatever game his wife was playing.
The voice that came out of Crystal’s mouth was not her own, but that of a man, low and gravelly. “I miss playing the part of your wife, Richard. Did it for a few months, remember? You were a stallion back then. Always happy to fuck me every day.”
Richard knew that voice all too well, and a chill ran up his spine. “Nevyn. I thought you were dead.”
“Sorry to disappoint,” Nevyn said coldly. “But I’m afraid it’s not that easy to kill me. Some might say, it’s impossible. Uh oh…someone’s trying to get all soft on me.”
Crystal’s voice came back as Nevyn sat up straight and began bouncing on Richard’s cock. “We can’t have that, baby. If this voice keeps you nice and hard I’ll use it from now on while we fuck. Mm…that’s right. Stay nice and hard for me. I always did appreciate your big dick.”
“What do you want?” Richard asked, furious that his penis had a mind of its own.
“To wish you a happy birthday of course.” He brought Richard’s hands up to Crystal’s chest and placed them firmly on them. “Be a dear and hold these. Big tits like these need support when I really get going. And they liked to be squeezed. I know that’s something you’ve always been willing to do.”
“Nevyn, I can’t…we can’t…”
“Oh but we can,” Nevyn said with Crystal’s seductive voice. “We certainly used to. You made love to me every night, remember? I’d be waiting for you in the most scandalous lingerie. Nancy had stopped wearing it for you back then, but I had something provocative on that showed off her body for you all the time. And we used so many toys on each other. I really loved what you did with those handcuffs. You were an animal that night. Remember when I let you cover me in whip cream that other time. Ha! I know Derek remembers that night too. Our naughty son caught Mommy in the kitchen. He had to go back to his room and think about how you were gonna lick it off me. I was so loud that night. All so Derek could hear. So it would drive him nuts. Or should I say, drive him to nut.”
“Stop…talking about stuff like that,” Richard groaned, trying his best not to cum.
“Don’t play innocent with me, Richard. All this talk about me being in your wife and making her do all those kinky things is making you harder than ever. I can FEEL it because I’m as connected with you right now as anyone can be. Let me tell you something else you might not want to hear, but I know is the truth. You loved it when I was Nancy. You loved the kinky shit I let you do to her.”
Crystal’s body sped up as Nevyn began lifting her up higher and slamming down the length of him. “And I was happy to do it, Richard. Because your dick, well, it is really great. I’ve had thousands of cocks over the centuries, and yours was easily top five. It can stretch a girl out real nice. And your stamina, damn! It took a lot ot wear you out. You gonna have that same stamina tonight for me, Richard? Gonna make me cum on your big hard dick before you blow your load inside me like you used to? I loved that by the way. You always shot out so much! Hung like a horse and cums like one too. Oh I miss it Richard. Yeah! Fuck me like you used to!”
Richard hated how much he had liked that time. He’d always loved sex, and Nevyn had hopped Nancy during a dry spell in their lives. He’d used Nancy’s body to great effect. “Shut the fuck up! Oh fuck! Fuck! You’re sick! You’re a fucking psychopath!”
All of a sudden there was a loud knock on the door. “It’s me!” a voice called.
“That’s Nancy,” Richard said as relief washed over him.
“I knew she’d be along shortly,” Nevyn said as he continued to ride Richard. “And what good timing. Tell her to come in. I’m sure she has a key with since she is probably in the body of a hotel staff member.”
It seemed to Richard that Nevyn was five steps ahead of him. That wasn’t unusual. There was a reason that Derek and Aubrey had struggled to catch him for so long.
A hard slap across his face cleared the thoughts from his mind, and then Nevyn’s voice hissed menacingly, “I said tell her to come in.”
He wanted to protect his wife, but she was immune to Nevyn’s bodyhopping abilities. She should be fine. It was him that was at risk, so he yelled, “Come in Nancy!”
Just outside the door Nancy wondered why Richard wasn’t coming to let her in himself, but…maybe the woman, whose name she’d learned was Crystal, had him tied to the bed or something. She could only hope. What a fun night this could turn out to be.
She pressed a master key card against the locking mechanism and pushed the door open. There was her husband underneath the beautiful woman, who was craning her neck to look back at her.
“Nancy,” the woman called out. “So good to see you again. Your husband’s just as good as I remember, and if I’m not mistaken, given his shortness of breath and the way he can’t help but thrust his hips under me, he’s about to cum.”
“Richard, you’d better wait until-” Nancy began with a smile on her face. But it faltered as her mind started to piece together the words Crystal had just said, and another layer of tension was added by the fearful expression on her husband’s face.
“It’s Nevyn,” he moaned. “Ah! Dammit!” His whole body tensed as his cock began to pulse.
“Oh yes!” Nevyn cheered. “That’s it. There’s so much! Let it out! Here, I’ll help you!”
Richard felt Crystal’s vaginal walls flex and milk every drop from him. He also felt Nancy watching him in a mix of shock and horror. He mouthed, ‘I’m sorry.’
“It’s not your fault, honey,” she said. Then her tone turned to ice as she looked at Nevyn. “Get off him you sick freak. You’ve had your fun.”
Richard wondered if he could push Nevyn off and run. But it would only take a touch for Nevyn to possess his body. He felt his dick slide out of Crystal’s pussy, and his cum began to leak out of her onto his torso.
“I will when I’m ready,” Nevyn’s voice growled. He switched back to Crystal’s voice. “Did you ever tell your wife that you liked her more when I was possessing her?”
Richard looked at his wife pitifully “Honey, that’s not-”
Nevyn clucked his tongue. “Let’s not lie, Richard. I went through your memories when I visited your house this last week.”
“What’re you talking about?” Nancy asked.
“Don’t interrupt me when I’m talking!” Nevyn’s voice bellowed. He quickly switched back to the seductive tone of Crystal as he stroked Richard’s face. “I looked way back and saw that you were very happy during the time I pretended to be your wife. You never told her that, but it’s the truth. I was better at making you happy than she ever was. I was such a good wife and perfect slut for you in her body.”
“He’s lying!” Richard yelled.
“It’s fine, honey,” Nancy said. “He’s just trying to wind us up.”
Nevyn smiled. “Aw, you guys are sweet. Might as well get down to business then. I need to make a phone call to your kids. I’m sure you got a way to reach them, don’t you?”
Richard shook his head.
“Liar,” Nevyn spat. “Well, I guess say goodbye to Nancy, Richard.”
“What!” Richard blurted, and then he felt the shudder begin in his groin and spread out like lightning through his body. His face turned to Nancy. “I love you!” he said.
And then he blinked. And Richard was no longer in control.
“Get off me,” Nevyn said from underneath a now vacant eye’d Crystal. She immediately did, getting off him and standing expressionless at the side of the bed.
Nancy watched nervously as her husband’s body got up from the bed and went to dig his phone out of the pants that he’d tossed into a corner. “Just…let him go, please,” she begged.
“I will,” Nevyn said while he initiated a video call. “After I’ve delivered a message to Derek and Bri.” He walked over to the sliding glass door and opened it.
A second later, Aubrey’s face came on the screen. “Hey Derek! Dad’s calling. Happy birthday Dad!”
Another face pushed its way onto the screen, that of a pretty redhead with lots of freckles. “Hey Dad! Happy birthday! Sorry we couldn’t be there. Mom do something special for you?”
“She took me to a hotel with a great view!” Nevyn said imitating Richard’s voice and cadence flawlessly. “Wanna see?” He turned the camera so they could see the city lights below.
“Aw, that’s nice,” Aubrey gushed. “Is she there?”
Nevyn turned the phone so they could see the body that Nancy was in. The kids, used to this, called out, “Hi mom!”
“Nevyn’s not dead,” she replied grimly. “He’s here, inside your father.”
Nevyn turned the camera back to their father’s face. He’d wiped it off its smile, and traded it for a darkened scowl directed at Nancy. “Your family really sucks at letting me have any fun.”
The twins' faces had become hardened masks.
“Leave our parents alone, Nevyn,” Derek’s voice said harshly.
“What?” Nevyn said menacingly. “The way you left me alone? The way you keep trying to track me down. I know you don’t want to lock me away somewhere. You want to kill me!”
He’d shouted those last two words, making Nancy jump.
“I know you thought you had, but I’ve learned something, unlike you two and anyone else with my gene, I can’t be killed. Isn’t that great! But I CAN be annoyed at having my plans interrupted. So I’m going to respond to your attempt on my life, by an attempt on someone you love. I just think I’ll be a little more successful. Let’s find out, shall we?”
And with that, Nevyn swung a leg over the balcony railing, and leapt off.
Screams pierced the air as Nancy rang to the edge and looked down. They came from Nancy, and from the phone that Nevyn had pulled close to Richard’s chest. He held it in such a way that when his body met the ground, the phone remained intact. Aubrey’s scream could still be heard from the speaker.
In the busy downtown district, a crowd quickly formed. Nancy watched as a man approached her husband’s body. “Don’t touch him!” she yelled, but no one on the ground could make it out.
But the twins also knew the danger and understood what would come next. “Get away from him!” Derek cried.
“Stay away!” Aubrey shouted.
But all it takes is one touch.
The man touched Richard’s arm, and immediately began to shudder as Nevyn’s soul passed from their dead father, into the stranger, who then took the phone out of Richard’s hand and held it to his face.
“If you get in my way again,” Nevyn warned. “This is how it will end for all of you.”
With that, he ended the call, and walked away past the crowd, satisfied that he’d been understood.
_______________________________________________________________________
Epilogue
65 years later.
Derek sat in the passenger seat as Stephanie drove them out of Maine. They had one more stop to make before they made the long journey to headquarters. Derek hadn’t been back there since coming into possession of the mirror. That had been for his safety, and everyone else’s. At a place filled with active bodyhoppers, the mirror was sexual napalm, and the ramifications could be catastrophic. It really said something about the current state of the world that it was worth the risk.
Stephanie had assured him that all the pieces were coming together. They finally had the means to track Nevyn after he’d created a world filled with people just like him. But if Derek could just get near him, it would all be over. The world still might not be the same, but at least, if his hypothesis was right, the body swapping everyone worldwide was experiencing would finally come to an end.
He became aware that his hand was in the bag. His fingers were running along the smooth wooden handle. It called to him.
“This isn’t going to end well, you know,” Bekka’s voice said in his head.
“I know,” Derek said aloud.
“Know what?” Stephanie asked.
“Nothing,” Derek grunted. “I just talk to myself sometimes.”
“I’ve noticed.”
Stephanie gripped the steering wheel tightly as they passed a POM security vehicle. She breathed easier after she saw it continue on its way in their rearview. She reached into her pocket and took out a phone. “It’s a burner. Untraceable. Call the saved number. Someone really wants to talk to you.”
Derek took it and fumbled with the small device with his large calloused hands. He finally found the contact, and pressed it.
It barely rang when a middle aged blonde woman appeared on the screen.
“Hi Derek,” she said with a wide smile.
Despite himself, Derek smiled back. “How’d you know it was me?”
“A mother always knows.”
He nodded. “It’s good to see you. Sorry I’ve been away so long. But I’m glad it’s finally time. Ready to help set the world right, Mom?”
“I am. All of us are ready to do whatever it takes to stop Nevyn, and we can track him now thanks to Trevor. Thanks for sending him to us by the way, he’s been really great. Like, REALLY great.”
Derek tried to keep the smile on his face, but at the sound of the shapeshifter’s name, his grip involuntarily tightened on the mirror’s handle. “You don’t have to elaborate mom, I get it. It’ll be good to see all of you soon. And to finally have justice for dad.”
To be continued in Shudder: Worldwide.
It was Richard Johnson’s birthday, and he was a man on a mission. He was going to pick up a beautiful woman in a hotel bar using only his appearance and charm. He hadn’t needed to rely on those attributes in a very long time, but still managed to have a different woman in his bed every night. That was one of the perks to being married to a bodyhopper.
For the ten years that she’d been a bodyhopper, Nancy Johnson loved bringing home women that would entice her husband to fuck her senseless. If a pretty cashier caught his eye, or the cute teller at the bank, or a seductive college cheerleader, or one of the many local milfs, Nancy would make sure each of their bodies spent some very intimate time with her man. She’d even gone on a few trips to bring in some celebrities that he’d crushed on forever.
Nancy became bodyhopper during an experiment run by her twin children, Derek and Aubrey. They’d used an electrical charge to spark a gene inside of her. They knew it was there, because it ran in their family. Once activated, she gained the ability to pass her soul from one body to the next. In doing so, she gained access to that person’s mind and could pass for them with the greatest of ease. She had used it to seduce her husband, and eventually persuaded him to leave her aging body behind.
The couple were still very much in love, and when Nancy wasn’t fucking her husband’s brains out in a body typically younger than her previous one, they were enjoying hobbies and conversations that were akin to people who had been together for many years. They didn’t go out on many dates though since Nancy was usually in the body of a woman in her 20’s that could have been Richard’s granddaughter. It was here that the trouble started.
A week ago Nancy had gently teased her husband while in the guise of a cute, blonde 21 year old. She told him he’d never be able to pick up someone like her in real life because of the age gap. She thought it would turn him on. One of his favorite things was when she brought home a young woman and began calling him ‘Daddy.’ Perhaps because his 55th birthday was a week away, or the fact that they could no longer grow old together, he took it poorly.
“Age is just a number,” he snapped back. “I could go into a bar, any bar, and have a woman on my arm by the end of the night.”
Nancy had then made the catastrophic mistake of laughing at this remark. The idea of her husband with his wrinkles and gray hair going to a club and using his cheesy lines on a woman to take her back home was honestly absurd to her.
Richard’s pride took a hit, and he went to sleep on the couch that night, and no amount of cajoling or seduction could get him to return. This was also a blow to Nancy, because a bodyhopper continually craved sex. It seemed to be part of the gene. In instances like these, she’d had to seek other options. In that case, she’d taken the blonde home and fucked her boyfriend.
Nancy fucked a lot of boyfriends and husbands when she inevitably returned a host body. Richard knew this of these indiscretions, but also knew that as horny as he often was, his wife had an itch that he couldn’t always scratch, especially as he got older. He’d never resented her for it, because he’d been around a few bodyhoppers the last decade. Derek was one, and like Nancy, no longer had a body of his own. Aubrey was too, but had to keep her body hooked up to life support if she ever hopped someone.
Then there was the third bodyhopper they all knew. The one who had passed the gene on to so many people over the last few centuries. His name was Nevyn, and he’d almost ruined all of their lives.
Nevyn had possessed Nancy for a few months long ago, living with the Johnsons and teasing Derek relentlessly. But after Nevyn lost his bodyhopping power and became stuck in Derek’s body, he’d briefly aligned himself with the Johnsons in the pursuit of getting Derek his body back. They’d studied the gene and made several breakthroughs, and somewhere during this process, Nevyn felt sidelined, and eventually betrayed. He used what he knew to get his powers back by himself, which led to a close friend of the Johnsons named Bekka to lose her life, although the twins often spoke of her like she was still alive.
Nevyn’s actions spurred the twins along two different paths that ran parallel to each other. Aubrey continued unlocking the secrets of the bodyswapping gene to try and find a way to track it, while Derek pursued Nevyn by thinking like him, and looking for his telltale signatures in society.
A month ago, Derek had success, and had intercepted Nevyn. In a phone call, Derek had given his parents the good news that it was finally over.
“Nevyn’s dead. He knew I was chasing him and he ran into traffic. A second later he was hit by a bus. After all this time, that’s how it ends. It’s so strange. We finally all have our lives back.”
The Johnsons had all moved on as best they could, with Aubrey stating she was going back to college to get her doctorate, and Derek possibly moving back home.
But tonight, none of this was on Richard’s mind. Because tonight he was celebrating his birthday. Because of Nancy’s insensitive remarks, husband and wife made a wager. If he could pick up a woman at a local hotel bar and get her to go upstairs to a room for sex, she’d join them for a threesome.
“But what if she doesn’t want a threesome?” Richard had asked.
“You mean if I can’t convince her with my very impressive feminine wiles?” his wife had responded with a laugh. “Then I guess I’ll be doing some very fast hopping. Wouldn’t be the first time.”
This is why Richard now found himself up past his bedtime at a crowded hotel bar where the music was too loud. He’d much rather be at home, waiting to see who his wife was bringing him that night. But his pride was on the line.
Even though he’d been out of the dating game for a long time, he felt confident he’d be able to land a hottie and take her up to the hotel room they’d booked. He scanned the sea of people. It seemed full of possibilities. He locked eyes with a pretty raven haired woman behind the bar as she mixed a drink. She winked at him. Nancy had chosen this bartender as her vantage point to watch the proceeding.
She totally wanted him to win, which is why she pointed towards a small circular table where a couple of young women sat, chatting and giggling away. After observing them for a few seconds, he shot an upturned eyebrow back at Nancy. He knew these women were at least 21 years of age, but probably not a day older. They still had their whole lives ahead of them. He was just the man that could teach them a thing or two. Richard strode over confidently, believing that this would be over quickly, he’d be fucking one or both of them within the hour, and could go to sleep.
He assessed them as he got closer. The girl to his left was a curly haired brunette with a dazzling smile. She wore a short black dress, but didn’t have a lot going on in the chest department. That was okay. He was always partial to brunettes. They reminded him of his wife and his daughter Aubrey, although they had both been stacked.
To her right was a shoulder length blonde who was offering a generous amount of cleavage to all passersby in a low red blouse with lipstick that matched. His eyes lingered on her exposed skin, and it distracted him so much that he forgot to say anything upon his arrival.
“Can we…help you with something old man?” the blonde said with a pitying smirk.
“He looks lost,” the brunette giggled. “It seems like he’s trying to find directions to your tits.”
“Don’t even!” the blonde squealed, and whacked the brunette on the shoulder playfully. “I’m sure this grandpa is harmless.”
“Or he’s a dirty old man,” the brunette clapped back. “He’s gotta be, right? I mean he came over to our table. To what? Hit on us?” She crossed her legs and looked up at him as if she’d caught him doing something scandalous. “Do you even know how old we are, mister?”
“Um, uh, 21?” Richard replied as he tried to recover from their verbal assault.
“I am,” the blonde said, “But Kinzie here is only 19.”
“How did you…” Richard started to ask.
But the girl identified as Kinzie interjected. “Fake ID grandpa. What? They didn’t have those back in your day?”
“I don’t think they had that kind of technology back then,” the blonde added.
“Just had the wheel and fire, right gramps?”
“I am not that old!” Richard fumed.
“Yeah? How old are you then?” Kinzie asked with a raised eyebrow as she haughtily picked up her drink to take a sip.
“Old enough to…uh…teach you a few things,” Richard said as he tried to turn this interaction around.
This elicited a cringe response on both their faces that ended when they looked at each other and burst into a giggle fit.
The blonde’s eyes drifted down to Richard’s crotch, then back up to meet his. “Can you even get it up? I hear that can be a real problem for senior citizens.”
“I’m sure he can, Mckayla, withe the help of a pill!”
The giggle fit resumed in earnest, and Richard found himself wanting to retreat, from this table, from the premises from civilization. This had been a horrible idea.
Suddenly the bartender was at his side carrying a tray that had three drinks in martini glasses on it. “Here’s your drink sir, and how nice of you to buy a round for these two lovely ladies.”
“Ugh,” Kinzie said with an eye roll. “Well, a free drink’s a free drink.
She reached for it, but Mckayla hesitated and asked the bartender, “He didn’t pay you to slip something into it, did he?”
The bartender’s pretty face faltered as if she’d been slapped. But then she set her jaw, and said tightly, “I can assure you that he’d never have to do anything of the sort. Not when he has me.”
As Kinzie’s fingers curled around the thin stem of a glass, the bartender’s fingers brushed against her for the briefest of moments in a way that so often happens while passing something from one person to the next. A fleeting second of contact that feels both innocuous and yet strangely intimate. It is usually a moment that is here, then gone, but this time, it left a lingering effect in the form of a shudder that began in Kinzie’s hand.
“Excuse me?” Mckayla asked loudly in response to what the bartender had just said. But she got no response, because the bartender’s gaze had gone slack.
“Um, Mckayla, I think maybe I’ve had too much to drink,” Kinzie said as she looked at the tremor rapidly spreading up her arm.
Mckayla didn’t look at her friend but continued to study the bartender. It was like she was asleep, but her eyes were open. She was just standing as still as a statue holding the tray. “You’ve only had one Kinzie. I swear, you’re such a lightweight. You really should be building up more of a tolerance for the parties at college.”
“No, really, I…I think I want to go…” but the rest of what she might have said was lost as her mind was no longer her own.
“Just kidding!” Kinzie suddenly squealed. “I feel fine! In fact, I think we should go to this handsome guy’s room. You got a room, don’t ya mister?”
Mckayla’s jaw dropped as she turned her head away from the bartender towards her friend. “Are you fucking kidding me girl? You’ve got to be insane if you think that I’m going anywhere with grandpa here just cause he got us a free-”
But she stopped mid sentence as her friend grabbed her wrist, and it too began to shudder.
“What the hell? Why’s my arm fucking doing that? Am I having a stroke or some-”
But then Mckayla went quiet for a second before looking up at the bartender and taking the drink she’d previously insinuated was spiked. “Thank you, ma’am. Now go back and attend to your duties.”
“Yes,” the pretty bartender said in a flat tone before she turned away and went back behind the bar.
“So, stud,” Mackayla said as she eyed Richard up and down as if he were a snack. “I believe you were about to sit down and talk us two lovely ladies into having a threesome with you?” She set her glass down on the table and touched her friend’s hand.
Shudder.
A second later Kinzie said, “Yeah. We’d totally say yes. You can take us upstairs to your room and fuck us stupid. We’re both really nimble. We were both cheerleaders!” She touched Mckayla’s hand.
Shudder.
“I bet you like cheerleaders, don’t ya?” Mckayla said with a wink. “Especially ones that like kissing each other.” She looked at her friend and said, “Kiss me passionately.”
“Yes,” Kinzie said, and then their lips were together as they kissed each other deeply.
Shudder.
“So, what do you say?” Kinzie asked with her thousand watt smile.
Shudder.
“Please take us horny sluts up to your room and be our daddy for the night.”
This sudden reversal of fortune seemed to darken Richard’s mood. “Dammit Nancy! The deal was I do this on my own!”
Several people glanced at the tiny outburst from the older gentleman standing in front of the two young women. He seemed to be reprimanding them for something. Richard seemed to understand he’d made a scene, and smiled bashfully. A few seconds later, everyone went back to their drinks and conversations.
“I’m sorry, Richard,” Nancy’s voice came quietly out of Mckayla’s mouth. “It’s just, I heard these cunts being horrible to you and I thought we could teach them a lesson.” She put a hand on his leg and began sliding it upwards. “Together.”
Mckayla’s voice was back then. “Please mister. Please fuck some manners into us. Kinzie and I would learn so much from you.” She touched her friend on the arm.
Shudder.
“Yeah. Teach us Daddy,” Kinzie whined. “We’ll be good girls for you. We’ll even let you-”
“Enough,” Richard said quietly but firmly. “Anyone I take upstairs tonight will come because they want to. So…get out of these girls and let me get back to finding that person.”
“Fine!” Nancy said with an eye roll. “You still interested in teaching them a lesson though?”
“What did you have in mind?”
Nancy waved over the bartender who approached them quickly. Her eyes seemed less vacant than before, but there was still a bit of a haze there. Nancy casually brushed the back of Kinzie’s hand against the bartender, who shuddered.
“Well,” the bartender said, and she sounded as if she were recommending a drink. “Since you two are such good friends, you’re going to get each other off. I want you to go into the ladies room and strip naked, then toss your clothes out the window in there. Then go into a stall and begin licking and fingering each other. Try to make each other cum as fast as you can.”
“Yes,” they both said in perfect unison. They immediately stood, and with robotic grace walked to the ladies room.
“Well fuck me,” Richard said. “Now I want to go to the ladies room.”
“You had your chance,” Nancy said with a smirk. “Although I did memorize Mckayla’s address if you ever want me to go pay her a visit.”
A huge grin crept over Richard’s face. “I love you.”
“I know. Now get back on the horse and go get ‘em tiger. I’ll be over there watching. Best of luck. I do want you to have a happy birthday!”
“I think I’ll go hit on someone near the ladies room.”
“You do that, dear,” she said with a laugh, then went back to resume bartending.
Richard set off in the direction the two girls had gone. He passed by several people that looked like couples or were just trying to relax by themselves. He considered hitting on a few of them, but crossed off the ones that looked under 26. No more early twentysomethings. Too obnoxious and rude. He’d go aim a bit higher, which, he didn’t want to admit, would probably up his chances of success.
He decided on a professionally dressed woman in a light blue blouse and dark skirt sitting by herself. She wore her sandy blonde hair in a bun. She had glasses, and was staring intently at a laptop. If he struck out with her, she’d probably let him down gently unlike those first two had. He wondered if they were in the stall by now, their naked bodies pressed together invading each other’s holes with their tongues and fingers in a desperate attempt to make the other cum.
“This seat taken?” he asked with what he believed to be a suave demeanor.
“Huh, what?” the woman said, not bothering to look at him. “No? You can take it if you want.”
Richard was confused for a second, then understood. “No, I don’t need it for another table. I wanted to sit with you.”
This caused her to look up at him like he’d just said something very stupid. “Why?”
“Because…” he said, as he tried to think of something clever. He was beginning to wonder if he’d ever actually been clever in his life. “Because I wanted to get to know the prettiest woman in this bar.”
Her eyebrow raised and she gave him a quick up and down assessment. Then her lips pursed together like she’d tasted something sour. “Um…no. Thank you.”
Richard had been in sales for a long time, and never accepted the first no. Sometimes not the second. He could do this. He just needed a chance to show her what a catch he was. “I really think you’ll like me if you get to know me.”
“Probably not,” she said dismissively. “Because I tend not to like married men who hit on other women.”
This comment took Richard aback. “What? Why would you think I’m-”
“Wedding ring, dipshit,” the woman said, pointing at his left hand.
Despite the fact that Nancy’s actual body had been declared dead and they’d had a funeral and everything, to Richard, and to Nancy, she was very much alive. Of course he wore his ring. He’d never even thought about taking it off until this very second. Now he realized how foolish it had been to wear it while trying to pick up women in a bar. Then he had an idea.
“Oh, um…yeah, I’m…a widower. Just can’t bear to take it off.”
The woman’s eyes went wide and her face went very red. She began fidgeting with her hands as she apologetically blurted out, “Oh shit! I’m so sorry. I should not have…uh, has she been gone long? I mean…I didn’t mean to ask something so personal! I feel so bad! I honestly don’t know what to say.”
“How about you just let me buy you a drink and we get to know each other,” Richard offered as his confidence level soared to new heights. He glanced towards his wife behind the bar and signaled that he had someone on the hook.
The woman grimaced and said, “It’s really flattering, but…I have a deadline and-”
Richard interrupted. “It was a few years back when I lost her, but it still feels like yesterday. She was the love of my life, you know. Tonight was the first night I worked up the courage to put myself back out there.”
The woman’s expression became one of deepest sympathy and she closed her laptop. “I…I suppose one drink wouldn’t hurt. Uh…I’m Natalie.”
“Yes!” Richard exclaimed, and he couldn’t help but give a little fist pump. “That’ll show her.”
“Show who?”
Without thinking he said, “My wife. She didn’t think I could still get a woman to give me the time of…” He trailed off as he recognized his mistake.
The woman’s face shifted into one of loathing. “Wait! Was that whole dead wife thing a line?”
“No, I-”
“You’re disgusting. Go find someone else to be sleazy to,” she said with a wave of her hand.
“So close,” Richard said as he stood. Back to square one. He was a few steps away when a hand grabbed his shoulder and spun him around.
“Fine! Natalie said with a bit of contempt still etched on her face. “You wanna fool around, I could use a destresser. Let’s go.”
Richard couldn’t believe his luck! “I have a room we can-”
“I know someplace closer,” she said, and still clasping his hand, she drug him to the ladies room and pushed open the door.
They both stopped at the sight of two naked women who appeared to be having a wild night. Their hair was a mess and their lipstick was smeared. They were both attempting to cover their bodies with paper towels, but it was not working very well. At the sight of the woman, Kinzie said, “Ohmygosh can you please help us? We need some clothes. Can you-”
“Ah!” Mckayla yelled. “There’s a man with her!”
She made a better attempt to cover her boobs, but her crotch was very much exposed. Richard knew where some of Kinzie’s lipstick went, because some remnants of her shade were between Mckayla’s legs.
“It’s the old guy from before!” Kinzie hissed, and they both darted into a stall.
“Looks like this one has other stuff going on,” Natalie quipped, and pulled Richard out and into the men’s. She led him to a stall, pushed him inside and said, “Take off your pants.”
Richard’s fingers flew to his crotch where they momentarily seemed to forget how to unbuckle a belt.
“Let me help,” Natalie said with an eye roll. She sank to her knees and was much more adept at getting Richard’s pants off than he seemed to be. She made no pretense of why they were there as she yanked down his underwear. She took his cock in her hand, holding it up to be level with her face. Then she leaned forward and took him in her mouth.
“Oh fuck! That was fast!” he said. His mojo was back! It might not have worked the way he’d planned, but a win was still a-
He felt it then. A telltale shudder. He’d felt it many, many times while he and his wife made love. A shudder was the telltale sign of a bodyhopper moving into a new host. But it continued to happen intermittently while the hopper remained inside. It was a brief struggle of one soul dominating the other. It was like a reflex, and could even be done while a hopper slept, but it was also very noticeable, especially for someone who had been around hoppers as much as Richard.
“Seriously Nancy! Again!” he said as he pushed Natalie’s head back. He’d really been enjoying himself too, but his dick was suddenly deflating as he realized he’d been duped.
The woman’s face looked up at him sheepishly. “I thought I could get you off real quick before I shuddered and then you’d have a win and you could take me upstairs and fuck.”
Richard frowned, pissed that he was still 0 for 2. “Well, you almost got me there. Another 20 seconds of your world class dick sucking and I would have busted all over your face.”
She reached up and stroked his cock, which twitched hopefully in her hand. “You still could, darling. Seriously. I’m so horny in this body. I’d love it if you took me right here in this stall.”
Richard had to hand it to his wife. She could bring out the sluttiest part of any woman. He could take her right here and she’d never know because of how Nancy could alter her memories. But he shook his head and helped her to her feet.
“Wait! When did you even hop her?” he asked as he pulled his pants up.
She gave a small smile. “I’d just arrived to take your drink order when you got up to leave her table. A second later I was her, and pulled you into the bathroom so you wouldn’t notice the bartender right behind us.”
“That was so funny seeing those two girls in the bathroom.”
“That’s why I took you in there first. Did you see the lipstick on the one girl’s hoo ha?”
“Oh yeah.”
The couple burst out laughing, but then Richard said, “Okay, I’m going back out there. No help this time, understood?”
Nancy slumped Natalie’s shoulders. “I don’t think you know how much I want you to succeed, dear. I really need it right now. I might just rub one out in the stall real quick when you leave. Unless you want to watch?” She began to unbutton her blouse while she bit her lower lip. “You could still help this uptight business woman unwind?”
Richard left in a hurry before his wife could tempt him further. What did he do to deserve such a seductive creature?
As he left the restroom, he eyed the occupants of the bar with new determination. Third time’s the charm. He’d just…pick someone closer to his age. Not his preferred choice, but a gal with experience could certainly bring a lot to the table, or in this case, the bedroom. He pocketed his wedding ring as he circled the perimeter, finally coming back near the entrance where other hotel guests passed close by.
It was there he saw someone he’d passed by earlier. A woman in her early 40’s that he hadn’t really considered. She was quite striking though with her long auburn hair and legs that went on for miles. Richard thought she somewhat resembled Nancy in the face. And also the boobs. The woman was stacked.
She had a duffel bag on the chair next to her. Richard put a hand on the handle of the bag and said, “Mind if I move this so I can have a seat?” As he started to lift it, it began to shake. And growl.
The woman’s eyebrows shot up and she protectively reached for it and pulled it onto her lap. “Have a seat if you must, but Daisy doesn’t like to be jostled unnecessarily.”
Out of the top of the bag popped the face of an adorable Yorkshire terrier. Her furry brown face looked up into his and gave a small yip.
“Good girl,” the woman said with a small smile as she pulled the terrier out of the bag and put her on her lap. “She can be a very good judge of character. You must be a bad man.” The terrier growled at him.
Richard put his hands up and chuckled, then said to the small dog, “I can assure you I meant no harm little lady.” He held out a hand for her to sniff. The terrier did, and then gave his palm a lick.
The woman assessed him, and by her expression, she liked what she saw. “Perhaps you’re not terrible. Go ahead and have a seat.”
Richard did so. “I didn’t know you could have dogs in here.”
“You probably can’t,” the woman said with an air of indifference. “But she’s my emotional support animal. That’s what I tell everyone anyways.”
This annoyed Richard, but he tried hard to focus on her figure, something which the woman didn’t seem to mind him eyeing. “So, what’s your sign?”
This elicited a shrill laugh from the woman. “I haven’t heard that one in awhile.”
“I really need to get some new material.”
“Do you find yourself coming out to hotel bars often enough that you need to constantly refresh it?”
“Er, no,” Richard said. “I usually just stick with the basics. Like, hi, I’m Richard, and you are a very beautiful woman that I would like to get to know better.”
She cocked her head at him, studying him closely like a cat might before pouncing on a mouse, then said, “That was a much better line. I’m Crystal. What would you like to know?”
The two hit it off, and Richard found Crystal’s banter refreshing. She didn’t look at him like he was ancient, or pitied him in any way. Best of all though, she hadn’t shuddered once.
They were mid conversation discussing childhood pets when the bartender came up and asked, “Can I get you two anything?”
“I’ll take a bourbon,” Richard said, not taking his eyes away from Crystal.
“Nothing for me,” Crystal said as she tapped a glass she’d barely touched.
They both just stared at each other, mirroring a smile that belied a bubbling chemistry under the surface.
The spell was momentarily broken by the sound of the bartender clearing her throat. “Will you be taking that bourbon up to your room…sir?”
Richard looked up at the raven haired bartender. “In a bit. We’re in no rush.”
The bartender’s eyes narrowed, and her smile became tight lipped. “Of course…sir. By all means, take your time.”
As she walked away, she touched the shoulder of a woman passing by, who shuddered. That woman whispered something into the bartender’s ear, who went about her duties a moment later.
Richard was oblivious to this. He was enjoying the massive ego boost Crystal was giving him. He found himself opening up to her, sharing things like it was a first date. He was used to seeing different women all the time, but the conversation was always the same, because his wife knew everything about him. This was nice, so much so that he didn’t mind talking and throwing back a few. He was slightly worried that he’d pissed Nancy off, because she acted like she didn’t know him whenever she brought the drinks.
“Well, this has been lovely,” Crystal finally said. “But I should be going.”
“Oh, um, I was wondering if you wanted to…” Richard started, not entirely sure how to seal the deal.
She grinned at him and finished the proposition for him. “If I wanted to come up to your room and we have casual sex like grown adults?”
“Uh…” Richard stammered. “Y-yeah. I guess…that.”
“You’re very cute when you’re flustered.”
“Well if you’d like to see me flustered you should see me try to take my pants off when I’m really excited.”
She laughed. “I feel like I’m missing something.”
“Sorry, it’s just been awhile since I…”
“Mommy, mommy, she’s got a dog!”
A boy about five or six walking by the hotel bar area with his mom had broken free of her hand and ran to their table. The boy put his hand on the dog’s fur, and gave it a hard pet, causing the dog to shake at the sudden attention.
“Mason!” his mom snapped as she grabbed the boy’s arm and pulled him back. “We ask permission before touching someone’s pet. It might have bit you. I’m so sorry,” she said to Crystal as she backpedaled out of the bar with her son.
“No harm done,” Crystal said graciously.
“Mason, use your feet,” the mom admonished. “I feel like I’m dragging you out of here.”
When they were out of earshot, Crystal said, “Kids. They never can resist a cute dog like Daisy.” She gave her pet a loving pat. The dog looked at Richard and yipped playfully. Then she kept yipping.
“Well, if you’re going to start making all that noise, I probably should get you up to a room,” she said. “And it seems like we have options,” she said looking slyly at Richard. “Yours or mine?”
They both laughed and got up from the table. Richard let Crystal take the lead so he could wave at the pretty bartender, who didn’t seem to understand why he was pointing at Crystal and giving her the thumbs up. The bartender just smiled awkwardly back at him and returned the thumbs up.
Richard was glad his wife was letting him get a head start, knowing she’d show up soon. He and Crystal got in the elevator and faced the closing doors. He pressed the button to his floor, and as he did, he didn’t notice the dog’s nose reaching up out of the bag to press against Crystal’s hip. Nor did he see Crystal shudder a moment later.
“Let’s go to mine actually,” she said. “It’s on the top floor. The penthouse suite. Great view.”
“Um…” Richard said, unsure of what to do. It was okay. He could just call down and let his wife know they’d received an upgrade. “Sure thing.”
As soon as the doors were shut, her mouth was on his. He responded in kind, and their hands roamed freely about each other. The dog was oddly silent despite being jostled.
They practically fell out into the empty hallway when the doors opened. They were both panting and pulling at each other’s clothes as they stumbled their way to an ornate door. Crystal pulled out a card from a side pocket of Daisy’s carrier, and pressed it to an electronic device next to the door. The light went green, and the sound of a click could be heard. Crystal pushed her way in, and Richard stepped into a room that was much bigger than the one he thought he’d be sleeping in. There was an entire living room, kitchen, and bedroom area. And as he walked further in, he saw that Crystal hadn’t been kidding. There was an amazing view. He strode to the far side of the living room where a sliding glass door led out to a balcony. He opened it, and stepped out into the night. He was ten stories up, with the city a twinkling sea of lights below him.
“If you’d rather stay out there you can,” a sultry voice called from behind. “But I think you’ll find the view in here much more interesting.”
Richard turned and found that yes, the view was much better inside this penthouse suite. Crystal hand dispensed with her dress, and was standing in a black lingerie set that she must have been wearing underneath in the off chance she got lucky. With a body like hers though, she didn’t need luck. He was just glad he’d been the one she’d decided to take to bed, but he also chalked some of that up to his own good looks and charm.
He came over to her and pulled her into a kiss. He’d expected it to feel different kissing someone that his wife wasn’t possessing. New. Foreign. But…there was a surprising familiarity to it. New mouth, new tongue, but the way their mouths met was how he’d kissed Nancy for so many years.
An annoying sound went off in Crystal’s purse that she’d tossed onto the bed. It disrupted their entwined tongues. “Sorry,” Crystal said as she scooped her purse up. “That’s the alarm on my phone. I need to go…take my medication. High blood pressure.”
“Totally get it,” Richard started to say as Crystal quickly disappeared into the bathroom a few feet away. “I have high cholesterol.” He wasn’t sure if she’d heard all of that, because she’d slammed the door so fast.
What seemed like just a few seconds later though, she came out again. And her hands were behind her back.
“You found those pills fast,” he said. “It takes my wife a long time to dig anything out of her purse.” He went red immediately, as he realized his little slip of the tongue.
“Are you married, Richard?” she asked sweetly as the tension in her bra gave way as she released the clasp. She began to lower it, giving him a great view of her impressive breasts.
“Uh…y-yes,” he said.
“But you’re here with me?” she said in a teasing manner. “And you’re going to fuck me, aren’t you.” She hadn’t said it as a question, but as a fact.
Richard nodded quickly. “I am!”
“Does your wife know you’re here?” Crystal asked as her fingers began to unbutton his shirt.
“Yes, well, no, not here. She knows I’m in the hotel. It’s a long story, you see, it’s my birthday. She said I could have a threesome if I could pick up a woman at the bar.”
Crystal laughed softly. “Oh. So I’m expected to invite someone else up to my suite am I? Is your wife attractive?”
Richard thought that was a rather funny question since Nancy could be anyone she pleased. Currently, she was in that very pretty bartender. “Yeah, she’s…very attractive,” he said earnestly as he pulled out his phone to call the bar. “I can let her we’re in your suite so she can come up and-”
Crystal grabbed the phone from his hand and threw it with a smile onto the bed. “Not just yet. I want you to myself for a little bit. That okay?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said.
She winked at him as she unzipped his pants. “That was the right answer.” And then she was dropping to her knees, pulling his pants down as she went. Her fingers deftly moved to the hem of his boxers, which came down just as fast. “My, my!” she said as Richard’s sizeable erection popped out. She licked her lips at the sight of it. “Someone is very excited to see me.”
“Oh he is,” Richard chuckled. “So how do you want to-” was as far as he got before he gave a happy little strangled moan, because Crystal had taken him in her mouth. And the way she used her tongue, Richard knew this was not her first rodeo. His stamina had increased with age, probably because he was getting laid about every night from a different beautiful woman. But the way Crystal was sucking him, he wasn’t going to last long.
He tried to signal this by tapping her on the head, and then by sputtering a very coherent, “Um...”
But she kept going, getting him right up to the edge, and then…stopped just as quickly as she’d started. She’d seemed to know where his line was, and had backed off in the nick of time.
“Sorry,” she said as she stood and delicately wiped her mouth. “I just had to see if it tasted as good as it looked.”
Richard was trying to catch his breath as he asked, “And?”
“It was even better,” she giggled. Then she led him to the bed, and pushed him onto it. “What’s your favorite position, Richard?” she asked.
“Uh, basically just…”
“Whatever your wife wants?” Crystal finished for him. “You must be happily married,” she added with a wink. “Well, I like to be on top.”
“That works for me,” Richard said happily as he flopped his body against the bed.
Crystal started to crawl on top of him with a seductive smile, when her phone went off again. She blew a strand of hair out of her face as she got up and looked in annoyance in the direction of her phone. “Sorry. Just let me go take care of something real quick.”
“Whatever you need to do,” Richard said. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“I’m counting on it,” she said with a smile as she again slipped quickly into the bathroom.
Richard spied the hotel phone next to the bed, and reached for it.
“How can I help you?” a polite voice asked on the other end.
“Bar please?”
“Certainly.”
A second later the familiar voice of the bartender picked up. “Hello. What drink order would you like sent to your-”
Richard cut her off. “Nancy, it’s me. I’m in the penthouse suite. Come join us as soon as you can.” He heard the turning of the bathroom handle and said, “Love you!”
“Excuse me?” came the voice on the other end, but the receiver was already on its way forcibly back to its cradle.
“Ordering room service?” Crystal asked coyly as she reentered the room. She walked nimbly towards him with searching eyes.
“Huh? Oh, uh, yeah. Hope that’s okay?” Richard noticed she’d left her phone in the bathroom. Hopefully that was the last interruption.
“As long as you charged it to my room,” she said demurely. “Now, where were we? Oh yes. I think I was about to get on top of you and ride your dick until you cum inside my wet pussy.”
Richard stretched out and smiled. “Well, if you must.”
Crystal’s eyes flashed, and she looked almost predatory as she made her way onto the bed. She eyed his cock like it was a prize that was just there for her. She curled her fingers around it and gave it a gentle squeeze. It throbbed in appreciation. She leaned forward and pressed her large breasts against his chest. She made eye contact with him while she used the hand gripping his shaft to guide it in. Her mouth formed an ‘O’ the second he parted her. She stayed there for a moment, with just his tip in, then she rocked her hips forward, and he was suddenly deep inside her.
Richard let out the breath he hadn’t known he was holding when he felt the tip go in. Nancy always watched him very closely whenever he went into new pussy that she’d brought home. Crystal continued watching him closely too.
“So big,” she cooed. “So hard. So…familiar,” she said with a sly smile.
“Familiar?” he asked, his chest rising and falling from the way she was grinding her hips. This woman was something else. She really knew how to use her body.
In lieu of an answer, she leaned down again and kissed him passionately. She flexed her pussy as their tongues danced together.
Richard loved everything this woman was doing. Clearly she had a lot of experience, but what she said, and how she kissed him. It was so like Nancy would kiss him. He tried to ask her about it, but her mouth continued to cover his, almost as if she didn’t want him to talk yet. His hands came up to her face but she intercepted them and pushed them back against the bed, pinning him.
At last Crystal ended the kiss and raised her face up just enough so their noses touched. “Just like old times, Richard,” she purred.
And then her face moved rapidly in front of him, as her whole body gave way to a violent shudder.
Richard’s temper flared and he tried to push up, but Crystal held him down. “Nancy, what the hell! I wanted to do this on my own!”
A wicked smile spread across Crystal’s face as she continued to fuck him very slowly. “Afraid you’re mistaken, Richard. I’m not your wife. But I’m not Crystal either.”
_____________________________________________________________________
One hour earlier.
Nancy hadn’t planned on Richard’s foray back into the dating pool taking this long. She had needs! He knew this. And birthday or no, she needed to scratch that itch. The need to wrap her legs around him had increased exponentially as she watched him successfully hit it off with an attractive middle aged woman.
It was not lost on Nancy that Crystal somewhat resembled her as she had been a decade ago. She wished she could hop her. Find out her story real quick and make sure she wasn’t wasting her husband’s time. But that’d have to wait till later. She saw that every second Crystal spent with Richard was doing wonders for his self esteem. And it was also making Nancy jealous, something she had not felt in some time. She kind of liked it, because watching her husband interact from afar with a beautiful woman that she was not possessing spiked her lust. She wanted them to go upstairs now! But since they were taking their sweet time, Nancy decided to quell some of her desire by popping out for a quickie as someone else.
In a hotel, this prospect was incredibly easy. She grabbed a bottle of champagne and went to the front desk. She hopped the man behind a computer, looked up who was in a honeymoon suite, hopped back into the bartender, and went to one of the corresponding rooms.
There was a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign hanging from the door handle of the room she’d chosen. Nancy knocked anyway. A loud curse was heard along with the sound of giggles. A half a minute later, an attractive young man opened the door wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. He looked flushed and agitated.
“We put the sign on the door,” he spluttered.
“So sorry,” Nancy said as she held out the bottle of champagne. “We forgot to give this to you at the front desk as a way of congratulations.”
The man’s demeanor changed as he saw the expensive looking bottle. He reached out to take it. “Well…thanks I-”
But the words ceased as his fingers brushed the bartender’s, and a shudder spread rapidly through him. He smiled back at the bartender a moment later. “Go resume your duties. This shouldn’t take long.”
“Yes,” the bartender said vacantly, and left.
Nancy shut the door, and let the towel drop. She looked down at a semi flaccid penis that was rapidly reclaiming its hardened status. “Not bad. Now let’s see who’s the lucky recipient of this fine specimen.”
She went deeper into the room and found a gorgeous blonde wearing nothing but a smile. Nancy usually preferred being in a female during sex, but she figured what the hell. She’d show this bride a good time on her wedding night. She climbed confidently onto the bed and spread the woman’s legs.
“Oh!” she gasped. “Jackson you, you seem…more sure of yourself all of a sudden!”
Nancy smiled down at the pretty girl. She’d be letting Jackson keep his memory of what was about to transpire. “I’m just so excited to do this with you for the first time, Lilly.” And with that, Nancy thrust into her, and did her very best to last longer than five minutes. She made it to six, but redeemed herself by some fancy finger work on Lilly after. She got Lilly off three times, and then did some cuddling.
Nancy found the young man’s recovery time impressive, because she was hard again and ready to go in no time. Being in a young stud certainly had its advantages. She couldn’t help but compare Richard’s recovery time, which was 24 hours these days unless he took a pill. She didn’t like when he did that though, because they could be bad for his heart.
Nancy left a well fucked and very happy Lilly in the room to go ‘get ice’ for the champagne. She made sure to let Jackson keep the memory of what happened to be their first sexual encounter, and then hopped back into the bartender.
She surveyed the room and discovered quickly that her husband had left. She perused the bartender’s memories and discovered her husband’s phone call. He wouldn’t be in their room, but had hung up before saying which it was. She’d have to play detective. Thankfully that was very easy to do when you had complete access to someone’s mind from just a touch. She headed to the front desk again to find out where her man was.
___________________________________________________________________________
“What do you mean you’re not my wife,” Richard asked. “I…I saw you shudder, Nancy. Hell, I felt you shudder,” he added with a forced grin. He did not like whatever game his wife was playing.
The voice that came out of Crystal’s mouth was not her own, but that of a man, low and gravelly. “I miss playing the part of your wife, Richard. Did it for a few months, remember? You were a stallion back then. Always happy to fuck me every day.”
Richard knew that voice all too well, and a chill ran up his spine. “Nevyn. I thought you were dead.”
“Sorry to disappoint,” Nevyn said coldly. “But I’m afraid it’s not that easy to kill me. Some might say, it’s impossible. Uh oh…someone’s trying to get all soft on me.”
Crystal’s voice came back as Nevyn sat up straight and began bouncing on Richard’s cock. “We can’t have that, baby. If this voice keeps you nice and hard I’ll use it from now on while we fuck. Mm…that’s right. Stay nice and hard for me. I always did appreciate your big dick.”
“What do you want?” Richard asked, furious that his penis had a mind of its own.
“To wish you a happy birthday of course.” He brought Richard’s hands up to Crystal’s chest and placed them firmly on them. “Be a dear and hold these. Big tits like these need support when I really get going. And they liked to be squeezed. I know that’s something you’ve always been willing to do.”
“Nevyn, I can’t…we can’t…”
“Oh but we can,” Nevyn said with Crystal’s seductive voice. “We certainly used to. You made love to me every night, remember? I’d be waiting for you in the most scandalous lingerie. Nancy had stopped wearing it for you back then, but I had something provocative on that showed off her body for you all the time. And we used so many toys on each other. I really loved what you did with those handcuffs. You were an animal that night. Remember when I let you cover me in whip cream that other time. Ha! I know Derek remembers that night too. Our naughty son caught Mommy in the kitchen. He had to go back to his room and think about how you were gonna lick it off me. I was so loud that night. All so Derek could hear. So it would drive him nuts. Or should I say, drive him to nut.”
“Stop…talking about stuff like that,” Richard groaned, trying his best not to cum.
“Don’t play innocent with me, Richard. All this talk about me being in your wife and making her do all those kinky things is making you harder than ever. I can FEEL it because I’m as connected with you right now as anyone can be. Let me tell you something else you might not want to hear, but I know is the truth. You loved it when I was Nancy. You loved the kinky shit I let you do to her.”
Crystal’s body sped up as Nevyn began lifting her up higher and slamming down the length of him. “And I was happy to do it, Richard. Because your dick, well, it is really great. I’ve had thousands of cocks over the centuries, and yours was easily top five. It can stretch a girl out real nice. And your stamina, damn! It took a lot ot wear you out. You gonna have that same stamina tonight for me, Richard? Gonna make me cum on your big hard dick before you blow your load inside me like you used to? I loved that by the way. You always shot out so much! Hung like a horse and cums like one too. Oh I miss it Richard. Yeah! Fuck me like you used to!”
Richard hated how much he had liked that time. He’d always loved sex, and Nevyn had hopped Nancy during a dry spell in their lives. He’d used Nancy’s body to great effect. “Shut the fuck up! Oh fuck! Fuck! You’re sick! You’re a fucking psychopath!”
All of a sudden there was a loud knock on the door. “It’s me!” a voice called.
“That’s Nancy,” Richard said as relief washed over him.
“I knew she’d be along shortly,” Nevyn said as he continued to ride Richard. “And what good timing. Tell her to come in. I’m sure she has a key with since she is probably in the body of a hotel staff member.”
It seemed to Richard that Nevyn was five steps ahead of him. That wasn’t unusual. There was a reason that Derek and Aubrey had struggled to catch him for so long.
A hard slap across his face cleared the thoughts from his mind, and then Nevyn’s voice hissed menacingly, “I said tell her to come in.”
He wanted to protect his wife, but she was immune to Nevyn’s bodyhopping abilities. She should be fine. It was him that was at risk, so he yelled, “Come in Nancy!”
Just outside the door Nancy wondered why Richard wasn’t coming to let her in himself, but…maybe the woman, whose name she’d learned was Crystal, had him tied to the bed or something. She could only hope. What a fun night this could turn out to be.
She pressed a master key card against the locking mechanism and pushed the door open. There was her husband underneath the beautiful woman, who was craning her neck to look back at her.
“Nancy,” the woman called out. “So good to see you again. Your husband’s just as good as I remember, and if I’m not mistaken, given his shortness of breath and the way he can’t help but thrust his hips under me, he’s about to cum.”
“Richard, you’d better wait until-” Nancy began with a smile on her face. But it faltered as her mind started to piece together the words Crystal had just said, and another layer of tension was added by the fearful expression on her husband’s face.
“It’s Nevyn,” he moaned. “Ah! Dammit!” His whole body tensed as his cock began to pulse.
“Oh yes!” Nevyn cheered. “That’s it. There’s so much! Let it out! Here, I’ll help you!”
Richard felt Crystal’s vaginal walls flex and milk every drop from him. He also felt Nancy watching him in a mix of shock and horror. He mouthed, ‘I’m sorry.’
“It’s not your fault, honey,” she said. Then her tone turned to ice as she looked at Nevyn. “Get off him you sick freak. You’ve had your fun.”
Richard wondered if he could push Nevyn off and run. But it would only take a touch for Nevyn to possess his body. He felt his dick slide out of Crystal’s pussy, and his cum began to leak out of her onto his torso.
“I will when I’m ready,” Nevyn’s voice growled. He switched back to Crystal’s voice. “Did you ever tell your wife that you liked her more when I was possessing her?”
Richard looked at his wife pitifully “Honey, that’s not-”
Nevyn clucked his tongue. “Let’s not lie, Richard. I went through your memories when I visited your house this last week.”
“What’re you talking about?” Nancy asked.
“Don’t interrupt me when I’m talking!” Nevyn’s voice bellowed. He quickly switched back to the seductive tone of Crystal as he stroked Richard’s face. “I looked way back and saw that you were very happy during the time I pretended to be your wife. You never told her that, but it’s the truth. I was better at making you happy than she ever was. I was such a good wife and perfect slut for you in her body.”
“He’s lying!” Richard yelled.
“It’s fine, honey,” Nancy said. “He’s just trying to wind us up.”
Nevyn smiled. “Aw, you guys are sweet. Might as well get down to business then. I need to make a phone call to your kids. I’m sure you got a way to reach them, don’t you?”
Richard shook his head.
“Liar,” Nevyn spat. “Well, I guess say goodbye to Nancy, Richard.”
“What!” Richard blurted, and then he felt the shudder begin in his groin and spread out like lightning through his body. His face turned to Nancy. “I love you!” he said.
And then he blinked. And Richard was no longer in control.
“Get off me,” Nevyn said from underneath a now vacant eye’d Crystal. She immediately did, getting off him and standing expressionless at the side of the bed.
Nancy watched nervously as her husband’s body got up from the bed and went to dig his phone out of the pants that he’d tossed into a corner. “Just…let him go, please,” she begged.
“I will,” Nevyn said while he initiated a video call. “After I’ve delivered a message to Derek and Bri.” He walked over to the sliding glass door and opened it.
A second later, Aubrey’s face came on the screen. “Hey Derek! Dad’s calling. Happy birthday Dad!”
Another face pushed its way onto the screen, that of a pretty redhead with lots of freckles. “Hey Dad! Happy birthday! Sorry we couldn’t be there. Mom do something special for you?”
“She took me to a hotel with a great view!” Nevyn said imitating Richard’s voice and cadence flawlessly. “Wanna see?” He turned the camera so they could see the city lights below.
“Aw, that’s nice,” Aubrey gushed. “Is she there?”
Nevyn turned the phone so they could see the body that Nancy was in. The kids, used to this, called out, “Hi mom!”
“Nevyn’s not dead,” she replied grimly. “He’s here, inside your father.”
Nevyn turned the camera back to their father’s face. He’d wiped it off its smile, and traded it for a darkened scowl directed at Nancy. “Your family really sucks at letting me have any fun.”
The twins' faces had become hardened masks.
“Leave our parents alone, Nevyn,” Derek’s voice said harshly.
“What?” Nevyn said menacingly. “The way you left me alone? The way you keep trying to track me down. I know you don’t want to lock me away somewhere. You want to kill me!”
He’d shouted those last two words, making Nancy jump.
“I know you thought you had, but I’ve learned something, unlike you two and anyone else with my gene, I can’t be killed. Isn’t that great! But I CAN be annoyed at having my plans interrupted. So I’m going to respond to your attempt on my life, by an attempt on someone you love. I just think I’ll be a little more successful. Let’s find out, shall we?”
And with that, Nevyn swung a leg over the balcony railing, and leapt off.
Screams pierced the air as Nancy rang to the edge and looked down. They came from Nancy, and from the phone that Nevyn had pulled close to Richard’s chest. He held it in such a way that when his body met the ground, the phone remained intact. Aubrey’s scream could still be heard from the speaker.
In the busy downtown district, a crowd quickly formed. Nancy watched as a man approached her husband’s body. “Don’t touch him!” she yelled, but no one on the ground could make it out.
But the twins also knew the danger and understood what would come next. “Get away from him!” Derek cried.
“Stay away!” Aubrey shouted.
But all it takes is one touch.
The man touched Richard’s arm, and immediately began to shudder as Nevyn’s soul passed from their dead father, into the stranger, who then took the phone out of Richard’s hand and held it to his face.
“If you get in my way again,” Nevyn warned. “This is how it will end for all of you.”
With that, he ended the call, and walked away past the crowd, satisfied that he’d been understood.
_______________________________________________________________________
Epilogue
65 years later.
Derek sat in the passenger seat as Stephanie drove them out of Maine. They had one more stop to make before they made the long journey to headquarters. Derek hadn’t been back there since coming into possession of the mirror. That had been for his safety, and everyone else’s. At a place filled with active bodyhoppers, the mirror was sexual napalm, and the ramifications could be catastrophic. It really said something about the current state of the world that it was worth the risk.
Stephanie had assured him that all the pieces were coming together. They finally had the means to track Nevyn after he’d created a world filled with people just like him. But if Derek could just get near him, it would all be over. The world still might not be the same, but at least, if his hypothesis was right, the body swapping everyone worldwide was experiencing would finally come to an end.
He became aware that his hand was in the bag. His fingers were running along the smooth wooden handle. It called to him.
“This isn’t going to end well, you know,” Bekka’s voice said in his head.
“I know,” Derek said aloud.
“Know what?” Stephanie asked.
“Nothing,” Derek grunted. “I just talk to myself sometimes.”
“I’ve noticed.”
Stephanie gripped the steering wheel tightly as they passed a POM security vehicle. She breathed easier after she saw it continue on its way in their rearview. She reached into her pocket and took out a phone. “It’s a burner. Untraceable. Call the saved number. Someone really wants to talk to you.”
Derek took it and fumbled with the small device with his large calloused hands. He finally found the contact, and pressed it.
It barely rang when a middle aged blonde woman appeared on the screen.
“Hi Derek,” she said with a wide smile.
Despite himself, Derek smiled back. “How’d you know it was me?”
“A mother always knows.”
He nodded. “It’s good to see you. Sorry I’ve been away so long. But I’m glad it’s finally time. Ready to help set the world right, Mom?”
“I am. All of us are ready to do whatever it takes to stop Nevyn, and we can track him now thanks to Trevor. Thanks for sending him to us by the way, he’s been really great. Like, REALLY great.”
Derek tried to keep the smile on his face, but at the sound of the shapeshifter’s name, his grip involuntarily tightened on the mirror’s handle. “You don’t have to elaborate mom, I get it. It’ll be good to see all of you soon. And to finally have justice for dad.”
To be continued in Shudder: Worldwide.
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After an accident, Anna is bedridden until she receives from an unknown donor a watch and a collar that allows her to transfer her mind to other people.
Anna is a slim girl, blonde with long hair, around 30 years old, who was active, worked in a bank branch, played sports and enjoyed life. She flirted with men, and had been dating a couple for some time, but at that time she had no deep relationship. Then came the fateful trip to the Alps, where she slipped and was transported unconscious to the hospital. They saved her life there, but Anna remained paralyzed from the chest down, bedridden and dependent on the help of others. After many weeks in the hospital, she found herself in her apartment, which her parents and a friend helped to arrange for her new living situation.
Her friend and former elementary school classmate Veronika became her greatest support. Veronika was a petite brunette with a mika who had graduated from medical school and had just been left by her partner. She agreed with Anna that she would move in with her and take care of her and help her.
So they lived together for a few weeks. Veronika took care of the household, and Anna, confined to her bed, was involved as far as possible in remote work at the bank, from which both friends had some funds. One day, a messenger rang at their door, greeted and handed Veronica a package marked "for Anna". Both girls were surprised what it was, they didn't expect any shipment. Veronika sat down next to Anna's bed and unwrapped the package in front of her. The package contained a smart watch, a collar and a specially sealed letter. Veronika also unglued it and put it in the holder above the bed for Anna to read.
Anna is a slim girl, blonde with long hair, around 30 years old, who was active, worked in a bank branch, played sports and enjoyed life. She flirted with men, and had been dating a couple for some time, but at that time she had no deep relationship. Then came the fateful trip to the Alps, where she slipped and was transported unconscious to the hospital. They saved her life there, but Anna remained paralyzed from the chest down, bedridden and dependent on the help of others. After many weeks in the hospital, she found herself in her apartment, which her parents and a friend helped to arrange for her new living situation.
Her friend and former elementary school classmate Veronika became her greatest support. Veronika was a petite brunette with a mika who had graduated from medical school and had just been left by her partner. She agreed with Anna that she would move in with her and take care of her and help her.
So they lived together for a few weeks. Veronika took care of the household, and Anna, confined to her bed, was involved as far as possible in remote work at the bank, from which both friends had some funds. One day, a messenger rang at their door, greeted and handed Veronica a package marked "for Anna". Both girls were surprised what it was, they didn't expect any shipment. Veronika sat down next to Anna's bed and unwrapped the package in front of her. The package contained a smart watch, a collar and a specially sealed letter. Veronika also unglued it and put it in the holder above the bed for Anna to read.
Dear Anna,
we selected you for the program to try out our new product and we believe that you and your girlfriend will use it to its full potential. In addition to the usual functions, the smart watch you received will allow you to rejoin an active life. This gift of ours is no secret, but for your own sake, be careful who you confide in about your new abilities.
We attach instructions for using the special application:
Double-tapping the display and circling the perimeter of the display with your finger will allow the smart watch wearer's consciousness to be recorded in their memory. Only one person's consciousness can be uploaded to the smart watch's memory at a time.
If one person's memory is recorded in the smart watch, the wearer of the smart watch has access to the consciousness stored in the smart watch, and conversely, the owner of the consciousness in the smart watch has access to the consciousness of the wearer, and thus they can communicate with each other on a subconscious level.
A double tap on the display and one circling of the finger around the perimeter of the display uploads the consciousness from the smart watch's memory into the wearer's brain, a second circling around the perimeter in close sequence then transfers the original consciousness of the new smart watch wearer to the smart watch's memory.
Pressing the upper right button on the side of the smart watch and circling the upper half of the display from left to right will enable the owner of the smart watch to actively use the wearer's mouth, moving in the opposite direction along the upper half of the display will reverse the situation. If the upper circle is followed by the lower circle (from right to left), on the contrary, the wearer of the smart watch will be prevented from using speech.
Pressing the lower right button and circling the upper half of the entire perimeter of the display will allow the owner of the smart watch to take control of the motor movements of the wearer (movements of the hands, feet, head, etc.) and, conversely, prevent the control of the motor movements of the wearer.
The middle button allows you to change the voice at the same time as changing the speech control while wearing the included collar.
Anna looked questioningly at Veronika, who also read the letter at the same time. She just winked, smiled and put the smart watch on Anna's left hand. She read the instructions carefully once more, then tapped on the display, made a 360° movement with her finger on the display. Then she looked at Anna, her eyes were closed, she was breathing lightly and did not respond to Veronica's question. She took the smart watch off Anna's hand again and put it on her own hand. As she stood up, she wanted to go to the kitchen, but she stopped immediately, clutching the chair with one hand, as she was startled by the voices that began to run in her head - Anna's voices: "Hello, is anyone here?" The surprise lasted only a short moment, Veronika pressed the button on the smart watch, made a 180° movement from left to right and thus allowed Anna to speak with her mouth and voice. It took a while for the girls to coordinate when each was speaking, but soon Veronika was standing in the kitchen, preparing food and talking together, satisfied with how the smart watch worked.
After lunch and afternoon coffee they agreed to try another function, Veronika tapped the display again and made a movement on the display. The side of the smart watch changed color from blue to green. As they agreed, Anna tried to lift Veronica's body - and she succeeded. Now the movements of Veronica's body were controlled by Anna. She walked around the room and Veronika complimented her on how she was doing and that she hadn't forgotten anything. In the meantime, Anna reached Veronika's bedroom, apologized to her, lay down on her back and began to settle down. After a while, she reached her orgasm and lay on the bed with a smile, breathing lightly. Veronika didn't blame her, she understood that after many months of sexual fasting, the opportunity was too tempting.
After a few days, their mutual friend and Anna's work colleague Alice called Veronica and invited Veronica to a restaurant for dinner with some other friends. Before Veronika could react, Anna responded and confirmed to Alice that she would arrive.
In the early evening, Veronika and Anna were preparing for the meeting, Veronika was putting on her dress and Anna's suggestion decided to wear the collar from Anna's package. She arrived at the meeting on time and just sat quietly at the table for a while listening to the others talk, Anna subconsciously urging her to join in the fun. Veronika resisted for a while, but when Michal, who she liked, sat down next to her, she gave in and they started talking. About how everyone lives, how everyone is doing, that they have a common interest in cooking. After some time, Alice also joined their group and started arranging a joint weekend cycling event with Michal and other boys and girls. She said to Veronika: "I suppose you won't go when you're taking care of Anička." To her surprise, Veronika responded that she would.
After the party, Veronika and Alice walked part of the way home together. Alice was a slender dark-haired girl with braided hair, inconspicuous rimless glasses, always perfectly dressed in a costume. Alice asked Veronica: "You surprised me that you wanted to go with us for the weekend. What will happen to Anča? Who will take care of her?" Veronika was silent for a while, subconsciously asking Anna what to say and how to react. Anna was in favor of introducing Alice to her new cohabitation. After walking in silence for a while, Veronika replied: "You know, something has happened that I don't have to worry about Anča anymore." Then Veronika used the smart watch to hand over the voice control to Anna and also set the voice change using the collar. Anna then continued in her voice (in Veronica's body): “Hi Alice, I'll go with you too.” Alice flinched, stopped and looked at Veronica. "You know, I was given such a gift and now I can share someone else's body because of it," Anna continued. "That's unbelievable," Alice said. The girls then continued walking home. Anna and Alice continued to walk and chatted amicably about Anna's new possibilities. When they said goodbye, they agreed to meet in a few days at Anna and Veronica's house.
The next day, Anna's parents were supposed to come to visit her. Unlike Alice, where Anna believed that she would understand the situation, she was afraid that her parents were not ready for such news. In the morning, the girls in Veronica's body enjoyed sexual satisfaction for a while, when one and the other took turns controlling Veronica's body. After lunch, however, they pulled Anna's mind back into the smart watch and Veronika attached the smart watch to the arm of Anna's body and returned Anna's mind to her body. It took a while for Anna to wake up from her sleep, she sighed, “Back in her body.” But soon she was cheerful as Veronika encouraged her that it wasn't for long. During the visit of Anna's parents, both girls were cheerful, all four of them had fun together, and Anna's mother was happy that her daughter was doing better mentally and thanked Veronica for helping Anna not only with the service, but also mentally. The girls just winked at each other, but didn't reveal anything.
In a few days, Alice was heading to Anna and Veronika's house. She thought to herself again what an incredible thing Anna had gotten. But she liked the idea of sharing her body with another person and was looking forward to enjoying the afternoon with her friends, so she prepared a surprise for them.
Alice rang the front doorbell, greeted Veronica and Anna, they made coffee and sat down in armchairs for dessert. After half an hour of social conversation, when they successfully avoided the topic started when they returned from the party, Veronika asked Alice if she would like to try lending her body to Anna for a while. Alice nodded with a smile and without further explanation began to remove her sweater and the pants she had come in. Underneath, she wore a black latex bodysuit with a high neckline and matching tights. Veronika's eyes widened, surprised at what she saw, but she only lasted a moment and then happily commented on how Alice had prepared for the afternoon. She didn't hesitate and ran to the bedroom to change as well. Meanwhile, Alice also took black gloves from her bag. When Veronika returned after a while in a similarly sexy red-black latex suit, she allowed Anna to control her body and mouth by circling the smart watch display. Immediately Anna spoke up (in Veronika's body): "Yes, girls, thanks." She first touched her body dressed in a latex outfit and then enjoyed herself with Alice. During the course she commented how it was better this way than when she had to satisfy herself (in Veronica's body).
After some time, Anna asked Alice if she could try her body too. Alice agreed without hesitation: "You know you do, I'm looking forward to what it will be like." Once again, Anna allowed Veronica to take control of her body and Verča then removed the smart watch from her hand and handed it to Alice, who put it on her hand and Veronika explained to her how she would allow Anna to control her body and mouth. Immediately Alice spoke up, actually Anna in Alice's body: "Thank you Alice, thank you Verčo." The possibilities are really incredible." The girls continued to have fun, this time Veronika with Anna in Alice's body. After some time, Anna had an idea - when the girls had enjoyed themselves, she took off her smart watch and, blinking, handed it to Veronica. She immediately joked, smiled, put on her smart watch and with the usual circular motion allowed Alice to control her body. Veronica's figure stood in confusion for a moment, then Alice saw her own laughing body in front of her and shouted, "What's going on?"
She looked at herself, turned to the mirror and saw Veronica—herself—and laughed too. "You dragons too," she called out to Anna (in Alice's body).
"How did you like it and do you like it?" asked Anna.
"Incredibly. It's a very strange feeling when your body does what it wants and when you say something you don't really want to. And now it's also incredible - to be in someone else. Have a different voice. Not wearing glasses. Come on, let's have some more fun," she invited Anna.
When Alice started talking about another voice, she realized that she had actually received a collar in addition to the smart watch, and they could try it on now. She replied to Alice (in Veronica's body), "Wait a minute," and ran off. After a while she returned with the collar and put it on Alice. She asked why, but Anna responded that it was not just an ordinary collar. And Alice was beginning to suspect. Anna motioned for her to press the middle button on the smart watch, which Alice promptly did.
"Try to tell me something now," Anna challenged Alice.
"And what should I say?" Alice responded, then stopped short. Although she was still in Veronica's body and had gotten used to speaking in her voice, now her own voice was heard.
"I kept wondering how you and Veronika did it back then. So now it's clear to me. You also wore this collar at the party then.'
The girls continued to evaluate their last experiences for a while and then enjoyed the sexual games for a while. The afternoon drew to a close and Alice returned the body to Veronica, who then handed the smart watch to Anna (in Alice's body) and the girls then switched bodies. Alice regaining control of her own body returned the smart watch to Veronica allowing Anna to share her mouth and they said their goodbyes.
Anna is a slim girl, blonde with long hair, around 30 years old, who was active, worked in a bank branch, played sports and enjoyed life. She flirted with men, and had been dating a couple for some time, but at that time she had no deep relationship. Then came the fateful trip to the Alps, where she slipped and was transported unconscious to the hospital. They saved her life there, but Anna remained paralyzed from the chest down, bedridden and dependent on the help of others. After many weeks in the hospital, she found herself in her apartment, which her parents and a friend helped to arrange for her new living situation.
Her friend and former elementary school classmate Veronika became her greatest support. Veronika was a petite brunette with a mika who had graduated from medical school and had just been left by her partner. She agreed with Anna that she would move in with her and take care of her and help her.
So they lived together for a few weeks. Veronika took care of the household, and Anna, confined to her bed, was involved as far as possible in remote work at the bank, from which both friends had some funds. One day, a messenger rang at their door, greeted and handed Veronica a package marked "for Anna". Both girls were surprised what it was, they didn't expect any shipment. Veronika sat down next to Anna's bed and unwrapped the package in front of her. The package contained a smart watch, a collar and a specially sealed letter. Veronika also unglued it and put it in the holder above the bed for Anna to read.
Anna is a slim girl, blonde with long hair, around 30 years old, who was active, worked in a bank branch, played sports and enjoyed life. She flirted with men, and had been dating a couple for some time, but at that time she had no deep relationship. Then came the fateful trip to the Alps, where she slipped and was transported unconscious to the hospital. They saved her life there, but Anna remained paralyzed from the chest down, bedridden and dependent on the help of others. After many weeks in the hospital, she found herself in her apartment, which her parents and a friend helped to arrange for her new living situation.
Her friend and former elementary school classmate Veronika became her greatest support. Veronika was a petite brunette with a mika who had graduated from medical school and had just been left by her partner. She agreed with Anna that she would move in with her and take care of her and help her.
So they lived together for a few weeks. Veronika took care of the household, and Anna, confined to her bed, was involved as far as possible in remote work at the bank, from which both friends had some funds. One day, a messenger rang at their door, greeted and handed Veronica a package marked "for Anna". Both girls were surprised what it was, they didn't expect any shipment. Veronika sat down next to Anna's bed and unwrapped the package in front of her. The package contained a smart watch, a collar and a specially sealed letter. Veronika also unglued it and put it in the holder above the bed for Anna to read.
Dear Anna,
we selected you for the program to try out our new product and we believe that you and your girlfriend will use it to its full potential. In addition to the usual functions, the smart watch you received will allow you to rejoin an active life. This gift of ours is no secret, but for your own sake, be careful who you confide in about your new abilities.
We attach instructions for using the special application:
Double-tapping the display and circling the perimeter of the display with your finger will allow the smart watch wearer's consciousness to be recorded in their memory. Only one person's consciousness can be uploaded to the smart watch's memory at a time.
If one person's memory is recorded in the smart watch, the wearer of the smart watch has access to the consciousness stored in the smart watch, and conversely, the owner of the consciousness in the smart watch has access to the consciousness of the wearer, and thus they can communicate with each other on a subconscious level.
A double tap on the display and one circling of the finger around the perimeter of the display uploads the consciousness from the smart watch's memory into the wearer's brain, a second circling around the perimeter in close sequence then transfers the original consciousness of the new smart watch wearer to the smart watch's memory.
Pressing the upper right button on the side of the smart watch and circling the upper half of the display from left to right will enable the owner of the smart watch to actively use the wearer's mouth, moving in the opposite direction along the upper half of the display will reverse the situation. If the upper circle is followed by the lower circle (from right to left), on the contrary, the wearer of the smart watch will be prevented from using speech.
Pressing the lower right button and circling the upper half of the entire perimeter of the display will allow the owner of the smart watch to take control of the motor movements of the wearer (movements of the hands, feet, head, etc.) and, conversely, prevent the control of the motor movements of the wearer.
The middle button allows you to change the voice at the same time as changing the speech control while wearing the included collar.
Anna looked questioningly at Veronika, who also read the letter at the same time. She just winked, smiled and put the smart watch on Anna's left hand. She read the instructions carefully once more, then tapped on the display, made a 360° movement with her finger on the display. Then she looked at Anna, her eyes were closed, she was breathing lightly and did not respond to Veronica's question. She took the smart watch off Anna's hand again and put it on her own hand. As she stood up, she wanted to go to the kitchen, but she stopped immediately, clutching the chair with one hand, as she was startled by the voices that began to run in her head - Anna's voices: "Hello, is anyone here?" The surprise lasted only a short moment, Veronika pressed the button on the smart watch, made a 180° movement from left to right and thus allowed Anna to speak with her mouth and voice. It took a while for the girls to coordinate when each was speaking, but soon Veronika was standing in the kitchen, preparing food and talking together, satisfied with how the smart watch worked.
After lunch and afternoon coffee they agreed to try another function, Veronika tapped the display again and made a movement on the display. The side of the smart watch changed color from blue to green. As they agreed, Anna tried to lift Veronica's body - and she succeeded. Now the movements of Veronica's body were controlled by Anna. She walked around the room and Veronika complimented her on how she was doing and that she hadn't forgotten anything. In the meantime, Anna reached Veronika's bedroom, apologized to her, lay down on her back and began to settle down. After a while, she reached her orgasm and lay on the bed with a smile, breathing lightly. Veronika didn't blame her, she understood that after many months of sexual fasting, the opportunity was too tempting.
After a few days, their mutual friend and Anna's work colleague Alice called Veronica and invited Veronica to a restaurant for dinner with some other friends. Before Veronika could react, Anna responded and confirmed to Alice that she would arrive.
In the early evening, Veronika and Anna were preparing for the meeting, Veronika was putting on her dress and Anna's suggestion decided to wear the collar from Anna's package. She arrived at the meeting on time and just sat quietly at the table for a while listening to the others talk, Anna subconsciously urging her to join in the fun. Veronika resisted for a while, but when Michal, who she liked, sat down next to her, she gave in and they started talking. About how everyone lives, how everyone is doing, that they have a common interest in cooking. After some time, Alice also joined their group and started arranging a joint weekend cycling event with Michal and other boys and girls. She said to Veronika: "I suppose you won't go when you're taking care of Anička." To her surprise, Veronika responded that she would.
After the party, Veronika and Alice walked part of the way home together. Alice was a slender dark-haired girl with braided hair, inconspicuous rimless glasses, always perfectly dressed in a costume. Alice asked Veronica: "You surprised me that you wanted to go with us for the weekend. What will happen to Anča? Who will take care of her?" Veronika was silent for a while, subconsciously asking Anna what to say and how to react. Anna was in favor of introducing Alice to her new cohabitation. After walking in silence for a while, Veronika replied: "You know, something has happened that I don't have to worry about Anča anymore." Then Veronika used the smart watch to hand over the voice control to Anna and also set the voice change using the collar. Anna then continued in her voice (in Veronica's body): “Hi Alice, I'll go with you too.” Alice flinched, stopped and looked at Veronica. "You know, I was given such a gift and now I can share someone else's body because of it," Anna continued. "That's unbelievable," Alice said. The girls then continued walking home. Anna and Alice continued to walk and chatted amicably about Anna's new possibilities. When they said goodbye, they agreed to meet in a few days at Anna and Veronica's house.
The next day, Anna's parents were supposed to come to visit her. Unlike Alice, where Anna believed that she would understand the situation, she was afraid that her parents were not ready for such news. In the morning, the girls in Veronica's body enjoyed sexual satisfaction for a while, when one and the other took turns controlling Veronica's body. After lunch, however, they pulled Anna's mind back into the smart watch and Veronika attached the smart watch to the arm of Anna's body and returned Anna's mind to her body. It took a while for Anna to wake up from her sleep, she sighed, “Back in her body.” But soon she was cheerful as Veronika encouraged her that it wasn't for long. During the visit of Anna's parents, both girls were cheerful, all four of them had fun together, and Anna's mother was happy that her daughter was doing better mentally and thanked Veronica for helping Anna not only with the service, but also mentally. The girls just winked at each other, but didn't reveal anything.
In a few days, Alice was heading to Anna and Veronika's house. She thought to herself again what an incredible thing Anna had gotten. But she liked the idea of sharing her body with another person and was looking forward to enjoying the afternoon with her friends, so she prepared a surprise for them.
Alice rang the front doorbell, greeted Veronica and Anna, they made coffee and sat down in armchairs for dessert. After half an hour of social conversation, when they successfully avoided the topic started when they returned from the party, Veronika asked Alice if she would like to try lending her body to Anna for a while. Alice nodded with a smile and without further explanation began to remove her sweater and the pants she had come in. Underneath, she wore a black latex bodysuit with a high neckline and matching tights. Veronika's eyes widened, surprised at what she saw, but she only lasted a moment and then happily commented on how Alice had prepared for the afternoon. She didn't hesitate and ran to the bedroom to change as well. Meanwhile, Alice also took black gloves from her bag. When Veronika returned after a while in a similarly sexy red-black latex suit, she allowed Anna to control her body and mouth by circling the smart watch display. Immediately Anna spoke up (in Veronika's body): "Yes, girls, thanks." She first touched her body dressed in a latex outfit and then enjoyed herself with Alice. During the course she commented how it was better this way than when she had to satisfy herself (in Veronica's body).
After some time, Anna asked Alice if she could try her body too. Alice agreed without hesitation: "You know you do, I'm looking forward to what it will be like." Once again, Anna allowed Veronica to take control of her body and Verča then removed the smart watch from her hand and handed it to Alice, who put it on her hand and Veronika explained to her how she would allow Anna to control her body and mouth. Immediately Alice spoke up, actually Anna in Alice's body: "Thank you Alice, thank you Verčo." The possibilities are really incredible." The girls continued to have fun, this time Veronika with Anna in Alice's body. After some time, Anna had an idea - when the girls had enjoyed themselves, she took off her smart watch and, blinking, handed it to Veronica. She immediately joked, smiled, put on her smart watch and with the usual circular motion allowed Alice to control her body. Veronica's figure stood in confusion for a moment, then Alice saw her own laughing body in front of her and shouted, "What's going on?"
She looked at herself, turned to the mirror and saw Veronica—herself—and laughed too. "You dragons too," she called out to Anna (in Alice's body).
"How did you like it and do you like it?" asked Anna.
"Incredibly. It's a very strange feeling when your body does what it wants and when you say something you don't really want to. And now it's also incredible - to be in someone else. Have a different voice. Not wearing glasses. Come on, let's have some more fun," she invited Anna.
When Alice started talking about another voice, she realized that she had actually received a collar in addition to the smart watch, and they could try it on now. She replied to Alice (in Veronica's body), "Wait a minute," and ran off. After a while she returned with the collar and put it on Alice. She asked why, but Anna responded that it was not just an ordinary collar. And Alice was beginning to suspect. Anna motioned for her to press the middle button on the smart watch, which Alice promptly did.
"Try to tell me something now," Anna challenged Alice.
"And what should I say?" Alice responded, then stopped short. Although she was still in Veronica's body and had gotten used to speaking in her voice, now her own voice was heard.
"I kept wondering how you and Veronika did it back then. So now it's clear to me. You also wore this collar at the party then.'
The girls continued to evaluate their last experiences for a while and then enjoyed the sexual games for a while. The afternoon drew to a close and Alice returned the body to Veronica, who then handed the smart watch to Anna (in Alice's body) and the girls then switched bodies. Alice regaining control of her own body returned the smart watch to Veronica allowing Anna to share her mouth and they said their goodbyes.
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I thought that having my body possessed, my life stolen and my evenings spent tangled in a carnal carousel of degenerate sex was the worst thing that could happen to me.
I was wrong.
It had been three months since I had felt the presence slither out of my mind. Three months since I had been trapped as a helpless passenger in my own body, watching it gleefully debase itself in ways I had never dared imagine.
There had been no warning: One moment I had been waiting in line to audition for some minor speaking role, when a sudden shiver ran through me. The person sitting next to me had asked if I was okay, and I’d tried to make a joke about how nervous I was. Instead, my body silently stood up and began to walk briskly towards the exit.
I had tried to cry out. I tried to stop myself. I tried to trip myself up, swivel my eyes or even blink in a way that might signal to someone that something was terribly wrong, but I completely lost control of my own faculties. Some outside force had seized control of my body and walked it smartly into the elevator, taking us down to the lobby, out the studio doors and into the city’s seedy underbelly.
Well, perhaps not exactly. As my body began to pilot itself towards what I recognised as the red light district, I felt myself almost blacking out in panic - the thought of being trapped as my body handed out back-alley blowjobs filling me with a sense of sickness beyond simple nausea.
To my bitter relief, I watched myself sashay into the most salubrious venue in the city: More a luxury hotel than a whorehouse, but everyone knew that the turndown service included some very intimate extras.
I felt my face flex into a charming smile to the bouncer and saw his look of amused recognition. I’d never seen the brute in my life, but I realised with horror that I was just the latest victim of whatever sick perversion was taking place.
It is a terrible thing to feel your lips and tongue move of their own accord, speaking words not your own in a language you don’t even understand. Some cryptic collection of syllables whispered to the concierge that I could not have hoped to remember even the next day, let alone now.
I - my body, and whatever was controlling it - was given access to the service lift, disembarking into a hall that looked like a modernised Mount Olympus: Laden tables, bubbling fountains, crystalline pools, cushioned lounges and of course, an entourage of gorgeous men and women in various states of undress.
They did not seem gorgeous when I first laid eyes on them. In my state of horror and revulsion, I saw them only as whores and deviants; accomplices to the crime being committed against me. Now I remember their lithe physiques and alluring expressions with what I can only think of as a desperate, carnal thirst.
This is the curse that has scarred me since my release. It doesn’t matter that I’ve been freed from whatever monster had stolen a year of my life; the memory of the pleasures it enjoyed with my flesh remains, and I wake up at night feeling terribly cold and alone.
They had welcomed me with the warmth and intimacy of a lifetime lover, undressing me as my body gracefully shed one piece of clothing after another. There was an air of excited exploration: Despite their familiarity with whatever had taken control of me, every inch of my naked skin, every hair, every finger and toe was treated as a curiosity to be examined.
I felt my body gasp at the first kiss - a gentle peck on my inner thigh. My body smiled with amusement and allowed itself to be lowered onto a bed of gold tasselled pillows before opening its arms and legs to the storm of affection.
Kissing. Licking. Stroking. Squeezing. My body made no effort to resist as it was toyed with and tasted by this party of strangers, and I felt a thrill of physical excitement grow within me that I had never known before my possession.
Shortly afterwards I would reassure myself that I was the perversion of the degenerate mind controlling me that caused such feelings - that I would never experience that kind of enjoyment from such a debasing act.
I know now that I was a fool. My body has tasted something I could never hope to recreate within the confines of my drab morality, and its hunger for more would later drive me to madness.
I was the guest of honour that night, and my body was a dish to be sampled by all. I was forced to savour the taste of every guest in turn - the men, the women, and those wore the face and body of one while sporting the genitals of the other. I had hated them at the time, assuming that they were conscious of and taking delight in my imprisonment and suffering. It is still possible that they were, but somehow I find it hard to loathe them now as I did then.
There were no ringmasters that I can recall; no one figure dominating the course of proceedings. Were it not for my own distress, I would have assumed the proceedings had no sinister puppeteer skulking in the shadows, but I sought one out in an attempt to distract myself from the physical sensations.
Callisto. I remember the name Callisto. The thing wearing my face had recognised her and I had felt my traitor heart leap in my chest at the sight of her. She was beautiful. I could admit that, even in the throes of my own misery. She had descended through the forest of bodies to press her lips against mine - lips that devoured the kiss with ravenous abandon.
What followed was a torrent of whispers in that unknown language, punctuated by giggles and yet more lashing of tongues. The thing within me was smitten with this woman, and she had recognised its presence, despite my face. My eyes were closed for much of their tryst, but often they would open and each would gaze into each other before bursting into more giggles or succumbing once more to their lust.
The sensation of something hot and rubbery against my thigh came as a shock to me, and as my gaze shifted to look, I expected to see some male suitor encroaching from between us. Instead, I saw an incongruously large penis sprouting from between Callisto’s legs, visibly bobbing as it twitched in time with her heartbeat.
My own shock failed to register on my face, which smiled with what I felt was both encouragement to the woman on top of me and a vindictive irony at my helplessness.
If Callisto was aware of my revulsion behind the smile, she showed no sign of it. Instead, she chose to slide her shaft between my legs, thrusting slowly back and forth so that its length ran along my nether lips in languid, luxurious strokes.
My body squealed, arching its back as I felt muscles within me twitch and spasm in delighted anticipation. Over the course of what felt like hours, my disgust reluctantly gave way to frustration - my body teased to the edge of orgasm again and again without reaching the peak.
I wanted to cry. To bed for forgiveness for whatever crime I had committed to deserve this humiliation, whatever it took for them to unchain or - if I must remain under their control - to at least give me release.
As I cried out in my own mind, I felt my body giggle again, and I realised with mortified horror that the thing controlling me was indeed aware of my own thoughts and was gaining a twisted sense of enjoyment from my distress.
Before I could rally any kind of indignant rage to admonish them with, my lips whispered a command to Callisto, who obliged by drawing back and thrusting into me until our crotches were pressed together.
My possessor had been ready for it, and wrapped my legs around her lover to better grind my body against her, moaning in ecstasy as I was forced to share in her pleasure. Every part of my skin was electrified, and I could feel every hair, every raised pore, every millimetre of my breasts and vulva and sweat-slick skin rubbing and sliding and stretching over my muscles as they contorted and twitched.
It was magical. As ashamed as I am to say it even now, it was like nothing I had experienced in my life up to that instant, and while I still try to convince myself that the memory makes me sick with disgust, the truth is that I am filled with a painful sense of longing for that moment and the many others that followed.
She had called out a name as she poured herself into me, the warmth of her seed spreading a fire throughout my body. “Artemis,” she had cried out, and my own body moaned hers in response. Even after the spasms eased, we spent some time simply basking in each other’s warmth and the afterglow of climax.
We did not remain in each other’s arms for long, and soon afterwards I would find myself once again being handed from partner to partner, sometimes one by one, sometimes in groups of four or more, each one of them hungry to savour this new morsel that had been puppeteered into their den. There was no effort to engage in intimacy, no connection formed other than the purely physical. I was the evening’s main dish, and I found myself being tasted by many mouths.
I wish I could say that I blacked out, or that overstimulation numbed me such that time passed in a blur. I was granted no such mercy. I remember clearly peeling my viscid skin from the evening’s final paramour. I remember finding my garments among the pile by the door. I remember the knowing leer of the hotel staff as I saw myself out the lobby to a waiting cab that answered to foreign instructions and demanded no fee. I remember my confusion slowly turning to horror as I recognised the streets I was being driven down - that the thing within me had somehow gleaned my address and was taking me home. Is that how they had found me? Had some enchantment been weaved on me as I slept, culminating in my capture earlier that day?
As I watched my body wash itself thoroughly, sneering at what modest comforts I could afford myself, I hoped with increasing desperation that the rising of a new sun would banish the nightmare. Despite certainly knowing my thoughts, my body gave no response besides rolling naked into bed and closing my eyes. I had only moments of darkness before the current of sleep dragged me under.
*
My eyes opened to the sound of my morning alarm, and it was with a sudden rush of relief that I sat up in dawn’s early light. That relief was short-lived, as my body had in truth been obeying its new master, who had simply risen as I would have done. Now I felt the world turn as my body spun out of bed and practically danced to the bathroom mirror to admire by the light of day the prize it had stolen.
The expression of vindictive glee it wore with my face contrasted against my own horror, and while it spared no words for what it was or why it had chosen me, it took the time to tease us both to solitary climax with my stolen hands.
Far from being freed, that morning marked the first full day of my new nightmare: A nightmare in which my body would walk familiar streets, greet familiar faces and complete familiar tasks without fault or any sign that I was anyone but myself. I soon realised that its knowledge of my address was not the fruit of reconnaissance, but its ability to effortlessly reach into my mind and pluck what memories it needed at will.
Trapped within myself, I watched as my body greeted my peers and superiors with the deference each deserved, attended the venues and gatherings at which my absence would be noted and carried out my duties to a standard surpassing my own. It was on this last point that I felt my wayward body becoming unaccountably aroused, as praise was heaped upon my impostor for the improvement in performance. I realised that whoever had taken my life, they were gaining a wicked sense of glee for living it better than I had, and that should my body ever be returned to me, I would struggle to live up to the new expectations my possessor had created for me.
It was with this terrible realisation that I watched my body bid farewell to my unsuspecting coworkers, hailing down a taxi and speaking once again in that unknown tongue. The cab drove us back to the hotel from the evening before, and my horror deepend at the revelation that last night’s humiliation had only been the first of many.
From that day onwards, debauchery became my body’s nightly diversion. I would wake with my body in the morning, watch during the day in the futile hope that some trusted friend would glean the falsehood of my countenance, then once again find myself victim to the myriad indecencies my body would visit upon itself and others.
Most times it would be at the same hotel, though on rare occasions I would find myself being piloted to one of the party member’s own domiciles. Against my will, I became familiar with the personal penthouses of many wealthy figures in the city, earning entry through various acts of self-debasement. Country cottages, summer homes, private jets; my body took itself on a tour between various spheres of power and influence, grovelling and dancing and mewling its way under every table to lick the floor clean of scraps.
Upon my first encounter with a true public figure, I had resolved to burn the sight of every face and the sound of every name into my memory, such that upon my eventual release I could throw back the curtain on the carnival of corruption and gain some measure of closure for the suffering inflicted upon me. Naively, I hoped to retain enough information to tear down their palaces of sin and expose their crimes to the world.
A stupid, childish ambition.
In the three months since my release, no matter how I wrack my brain, no matter how many newspaper photos I look at and how many public broadcasts I watch, not a single name or face evokes so much as a twitch of recognition. Whatever memories I had retained up to the day of my release, my possessor had reached into my mind and erased them.
But I remembered Callisto. Among the countless sea of fog-obscured faces that flooded my recollection, Callisto’s remained clear.
I saw her surprisingly rarely, given the relationship she had with the thing controlling me. I had no idea where she was on the many nights I endured without her, and there was no pattern or apparent purpose to her attendance. Some nights she was simply there waiting for me, and some nights she would arrive later and seek me out in the heaving, sighing, moaning mass of limbs and flesh.
Despite its many sordid engagements with countless partners, Callisto was the only one that my body was truly intimate with. They would burrow out a private nest among the pillows, slink away to some shadowed corner booth or in one case, cradle each other in the arms of the statue that dominated the hall where everyone could see, but none could reach.
Callisto was the first and only person my body invited back to my own apartment, and while I raged at this latest invasion of my privacy and trespass on my life, I could not overcome the excitement burning through my body as it gave Callisto a tour of my meagre dwellings.
Unlike Artemis, Callisto did not sneer. She had eyes only for her lover, and it wasn’t long before they were tumbling naked onto my bed.
I had invited some promising suitors to my apartment in the past, and in exceptional cases had invited them to spend the night in my bed, but I had experienced nothing like the overwhelming passion these creatures felt for each other. As they lay panting in the dim lamplight, gazing into each other’s eyes, I had to remind myself that the sensation of joyous fulfilment welling up in my heart was not my own, and that the gorgeous woman leaning in to press her lips against mine was not my lover, but a concubine to the foul thing that wore my face and had stolen my life.
It was perhaps six months since losing control of myself that I arrived as accustomed to the hotel banquet to find Callisto waiting for me but unaccountably nervous, as though she had suddenly shrunk in on herself and lost all sense of confidence.
She approached me with uncharacteristic trepidation and in a quavering voice spoke the name Artemis, as though unsure if I was still being controlled.
The thing wearing my face smiled, but not with the warmth or affection I had come to expect. It was a sinister smile. A predatory smile. And, like a predator, she drew Callisto into her arms and flung her to the floor before pouncing on top of her while the crowd roared with laughter.
Artemis seemed to have grown weary of her lover, and I felt my blood surge in unwanted excitement as I watched the horror of realisation drawn on Callisto’s face. I felt her body squirm beneath my weight as she cried out in pain and fear, begging for forgiveness as my hands roughly tore at her clothes. Despite her protestations, she was fully erect beneath her skirt and my body laughed at her humiliation as it brought her struggling upright, exposing her shame to the mocking throng.
I had never pictured Callisto as being possessed of physical or mental strength, and my suspicions were confirmed as the poor girl hung helplessly from one arm gripped by my own hand while my other jerked her roughly to climax.
She moaned piteously as she emptied her soul onto the marble floor, and when thrown to her knees and ordered to clean it with her mouth, she did so without resistance, weeping such that her tears mingled with her seed on the floor.
That was the last time I saw Callisto while deprived of control. I remember taking on new lovers to varying degrees of intimacy, but any memory of names or faces have been pulled clean from my mind.
My impression of the six months that followed were simply of the same routine: Appear as normal during the day, lascivious pursuits by night punctuated by weekends of debauchery.
It was with a genuine sense of shock that one morning I woke up to find that my body did not rise from my bed of its own accord, nor did it leap to the mirror to admire itself. Instead, it lay listlessly in bed, staring at the ceiling.
With a great effort of will, reforging the connection from months of disuse, I raised my hand up to my face.
My body was my own once more.
*
I did not cheer, I did not even smile. I realised that despite my freedom, I had somehow not recovered control of my body. Even the steady rise and fall of my breast was automatic, and I could neither slow nor hold my breath.
It took several frustrating minutes just to move my eyes and turn my head. Moving my limbs felt like swimming in mud, and I would have cried from the effort if I could only remember how.
I could not stand. I could barely raise myself on all fours, the softness of the mattress causing me to lose what little balance I could muster. It was not until I heard the chime of my phone that I realised I had spent several hours simply trying to get out of bed.
Mercifully, my phone was close to hand, and while the first two calls failed before I could reach it, I was able to answer the third.
“Angie, where are you? It’s almost midday!”
I recognised the voice as my supervisor. Thanks to my artificially improved performance, I was her star employee, and her concern at my sudden absence was clear in her voice.
“Hrrn,” I said, my throat thick and my tongue sluggish.
“Angie? Are you there?”
“Heeln,” I managed, my vision swimming with the effort.
“Oh my God, Angie. Are you okay?”
“Herlp. Mrr.” It was all I could think of saying.
“Oh, God. Oh, God, Angie you stay where you are, I’m going to get help.”
It was a thin silver lining of my possession. Possibly Artemis had intended it from the start: That the person charged with contacting me from work would also be kind enough not simply to worry, but also to act if she thought I was in danger. No doubt she believed I was suffering some kind of medical emergency, though she could never have guessed the truth.
I soon found myself in hospital, where I was diagnosed with a sudden onset neurological disorder. The doctors had come to that conclusion after many frustrated attempts to quantify my condition via their many scans and tests. They suggested more out of hope than certainty that my condition would improve with rest and gradual physical therapy.
I wasn’t about to correct them. Not simply because of my inability to speak or write, but also because they would most definitely have deemed me insane as well as crippled.
Their prognosis proved sound, despite their ignorance. Over the course of the next four weeks, I gradually regained the use of my own body thanks to the patience of the staff assigned to me. It was maddeningly tedious, frustrating work, but by the end of the month I was able to walk unassisted out of the hospital to the taxi that was waiting for me.
For a moment I thought I might recognise the driver, or that they might recognise me. I had already come to the realisation that my memories had been tampered with, but if I perhaps mumbled something in the correct tone with enough confidence, would he still think me under Artemis’ control?
I gave my address and went home.
After that, my life fell apart. As predicted, I could not match the workplace performance Artemis had given while wearing my body, and what began as sympathy for my recent hospitalisation turned to frustration at my inability to recover.
Compounding my poor state of mind was the persistent sensation of emptiness that stole over me in the night: The feeling that I should be wrapped in the arms of another, gorging myself on their scent and sweat instead of languishing alone in the coldness of solitude.
Weeks passed one after the other with not only a failure to improve but the bitter void within me growing deeper with every passing night. I would dream of Callisto’s tear-stained face and wake up begging for forgiveness.
I entertained the idea of returning to the hotel, to the crucible of sin I had been forced to spend a year of my life, but the fantasy of what would happen on my arrival grew increasingly deranged. No arm of the law could be trusted to stand against the men who had taken advantage of my body while I was possessed, and even if I could somehow fool the guards into thinking I was still being controlled, what could I hope to achieve upon my return?
Despite this, I found myself helplessly drawn to the street outside the hotel in the safety of daylight, trapped at the periphery, both hoping and dreading being seen and recognised.
It was there, nine months after last laying eyes on her, that I saw Callisto.
I did not call out, but instead ran with a silent desperation to catch up to her as she moved through the crowd. The sound of my footsteps drew her attention, and she turned just as I drew close enough to reach out and grab her.
The look of sudden terror on her face caused my heart to sink, but her expression quickly turned to one of confusion as she clearly saw the difference in my nature since our last meeting.
“You,” she said, with none of the fear I remembered in her voice. “You’re not Artemis, are you?”
It was in that moment that I felt the ground tilt beneath me, a sudden dizziness claiming my mind as I came to terms with the implications of her question.
A pair of arms grabbed me, not unkindly but without unwarranted tenderness. I looked into eyes I had been made to fall in love with against my will, and saw another soul behind them.
She wasn’t Callisto. She never had been. Just as the thing that answered to the name Artemis had worn me as its meat puppet, a creature that called itself Callisto had worn her.
The horror must have shown in my expression, because hers softened as one who had experienced the same loss and revelation.
She embraced me then, and I held onto her as though she were the only real thing in the world: Two lovers deprived of their souls.
We found ourselves at a nearby cafe sometime later, recounting the circumstances of our respective capture, speculating how it was done and pointedly pretending not to know any intimate details of the other’s anatomy.
Her name was Christina, and after what seemed like much internal debate, she asked if I wanted to go back.
I was horrified at the suggestion, bringing up her own mistreatment as reason never to return, but she admitted that even after her rejection and humiliation at my hands under Artemis’ control, she had continued attending other venues to indulge her carnal impulses, describing the same cold hollowness that had robbed me of sleep for so many nights.
I told her that I would need some time to think about it, and in the dying light of the setting sun, she offered to walk me home.
She did not in fact remember my address from her evening with Artemis - Callisto having robbed her of the memory - but her face lit up in recognition when I let her into my apartment. Neither of us needed to say that she had never intended to simply walk me home, and after a brief moment of awkwardness, we found ourselves in each other’s arms once again, though for the first time of our own volition.
The lovemaking was… awkward. Neither of us possessed the confidence, nor ravenous hunger for the other that the creatures controlling us had possessed, but there was a sincerity to the moment we shared that was entirely unique.
My body still remembered the shape of her as she pushed herself into me, hesitant despite the countless times we had rutted with abandon in the past. There were no heroic thrusts, no cries of triumph or ecstasy; just a pair of stringless puppets filling the hole in one another’s lives.
*
We returned to the hotel the next morning. My life was beyond recovery, and Christina seemed to have given up on her own.
The true extent of her despair did not dawn on me until I witnessed the familiarity with which she was greeted by the denizens of the grand hall. A familiarity that betrayed the fact that she had in fact already returned, possibly while I was still possessed and that the memory of seeing her again had simply been erased from my mind.
Too numb with shock to resist, I found myself being led first by Christina but soon by the entire congregation, shepherding and pulling and lifting me up to the feet of the statue where two figures lay draped in its arms.
Despite wearing new faces, I recognised their expressions at once. Artemis and Callisto leered down at us: Two discarded skins now returned to their lair.
Through a haze of terror I heard Christina praise their names and claimed me as her other half in the coming sacrifice. I had no knowledge of what she was speaking of, but whatever horror lay in store for me seemed a fitting start to yet another nightmare.
The body of the woman Artemis now wore sniffed, looking down at me with scorn. She wondered aloud if I had actually been informed of the coming ritual, chastising Christina with a reminder that the sacrifice must be voluntary or the coming rite would fail.
Christina turned to me then, an anguished hope in her eyes.
We could still be together. Not as Callisto and Artemis, not as Christina and Angela, but as the new souls that would be summoned from beyond the void to fill our vessels and once again give purpose to our lives.
We had tasted the joy of subjugation, and would remain forever desolate if we continued to obstinately exist without a master.
She had deceived me. By omission and by trickery, she had deceived me into returning here, but on this she spoke truly. She knew I had felt the emptiness within me as surely as my own warm heart had been plucked from my chest - and emptiness she had been forced to suffer half a year longer than I. I saw in her desperation what I could become if I refused.
I agreed, though neither the triumphant roar of the throng nor the tight, grateful embrace Christina gave me assuaged my fear.
There was no drinking of blood or reading of entrails, no sonorous gong or ringing of bells. It happened in an instant. No sooner had Christina tearfully released me than I felt the shiver run through me once more.
It was different this time: Where a year ago, it had felt like stepping through a sheet of frigid water, now it was like a distant pattering of freezing droplets raining down on me, first as a trickle but gradually growing into a flood.
In my soul I knew what the difference was: Over a year ago, I had been assaulted by the will of some foul spirit that already commanded a foothold in our world. Now some new demon was being called, called from across the infinite planes of space to its new home in my mortal shell.
In my terror, I considered resisting, but it was already too late. I gasped as the mist filled me - the last action I would ever make with my own body. I felt the rivulets of ice spread from my chest into my spine, splitting into countless fine hairs that ran along my arms and legs into hands, feet, fingers and toes. I felt the cold reach up into my neck, my skull, my face and finally, my mind. I felt it dig its cold claws into every inch of me before wresting control like an apple plucked from the tree.
I felt full. I felt whole. I felt my face break into a lascivious smile, mirrored on the face of what was no longer Christina as we stood, still with our arms around each other.
As the beings controlling us sealed their dominion over our bodies with a kiss, I felt Christina’s length sliding into my already slick womanhood, our bodies like virgins to the occupying souls.
As our conquered bodies rapidly reached climax, I felt the invading spirit settle over mine completely and knew with terrible certainty that this one would never let go.
I was wrong.
It had been three months since I had felt the presence slither out of my mind. Three months since I had been trapped as a helpless passenger in my own body, watching it gleefully debase itself in ways I had never dared imagine.
There had been no warning: One moment I had been waiting in line to audition for some minor speaking role, when a sudden shiver ran through me. The person sitting next to me had asked if I was okay, and I’d tried to make a joke about how nervous I was. Instead, my body silently stood up and began to walk briskly towards the exit.
I had tried to cry out. I tried to stop myself. I tried to trip myself up, swivel my eyes or even blink in a way that might signal to someone that something was terribly wrong, but I completely lost control of my own faculties. Some outside force had seized control of my body and walked it smartly into the elevator, taking us down to the lobby, out the studio doors and into the city’s seedy underbelly.
Well, perhaps not exactly. As my body began to pilot itself towards what I recognised as the red light district, I felt myself almost blacking out in panic - the thought of being trapped as my body handed out back-alley blowjobs filling me with a sense of sickness beyond simple nausea.
To my bitter relief, I watched myself sashay into the most salubrious venue in the city: More a luxury hotel than a whorehouse, but everyone knew that the turndown service included some very intimate extras.
I felt my face flex into a charming smile to the bouncer and saw his look of amused recognition. I’d never seen the brute in my life, but I realised with horror that I was just the latest victim of whatever sick perversion was taking place.
It is a terrible thing to feel your lips and tongue move of their own accord, speaking words not your own in a language you don’t even understand. Some cryptic collection of syllables whispered to the concierge that I could not have hoped to remember even the next day, let alone now.
I - my body, and whatever was controlling it - was given access to the service lift, disembarking into a hall that looked like a modernised Mount Olympus: Laden tables, bubbling fountains, crystalline pools, cushioned lounges and of course, an entourage of gorgeous men and women in various states of undress.
They did not seem gorgeous when I first laid eyes on them. In my state of horror and revulsion, I saw them only as whores and deviants; accomplices to the crime being committed against me. Now I remember their lithe physiques and alluring expressions with what I can only think of as a desperate, carnal thirst.
This is the curse that has scarred me since my release. It doesn’t matter that I’ve been freed from whatever monster had stolen a year of my life; the memory of the pleasures it enjoyed with my flesh remains, and I wake up at night feeling terribly cold and alone.
They had welcomed me with the warmth and intimacy of a lifetime lover, undressing me as my body gracefully shed one piece of clothing after another. There was an air of excited exploration: Despite their familiarity with whatever had taken control of me, every inch of my naked skin, every hair, every finger and toe was treated as a curiosity to be examined.
I felt my body gasp at the first kiss - a gentle peck on my inner thigh. My body smiled with amusement and allowed itself to be lowered onto a bed of gold tasselled pillows before opening its arms and legs to the storm of affection.
Kissing. Licking. Stroking. Squeezing. My body made no effort to resist as it was toyed with and tasted by this party of strangers, and I felt a thrill of physical excitement grow within me that I had never known before my possession.
Shortly afterwards I would reassure myself that I was the perversion of the degenerate mind controlling me that caused such feelings - that I would never experience that kind of enjoyment from such a debasing act.
I know now that I was a fool. My body has tasted something I could never hope to recreate within the confines of my drab morality, and its hunger for more would later drive me to madness.
I was the guest of honour that night, and my body was a dish to be sampled by all. I was forced to savour the taste of every guest in turn - the men, the women, and those wore the face and body of one while sporting the genitals of the other. I had hated them at the time, assuming that they were conscious of and taking delight in my imprisonment and suffering. It is still possible that they were, but somehow I find it hard to loathe them now as I did then.
There were no ringmasters that I can recall; no one figure dominating the course of proceedings. Were it not for my own distress, I would have assumed the proceedings had no sinister puppeteer skulking in the shadows, but I sought one out in an attempt to distract myself from the physical sensations.
Callisto. I remember the name Callisto. The thing wearing my face had recognised her and I had felt my traitor heart leap in my chest at the sight of her. She was beautiful. I could admit that, even in the throes of my own misery. She had descended through the forest of bodies to press her lips against mine - lips that devoured the kiss with ravenous abandon.
What followed was a torrent of whispers in that unknown language, punctuated by giggles and yet more lashing of tongues. The thing within me was smitten with this woman, and she had recognised its presence, despite my face. My eyes were closed for much of their tryst, but often they would open and each would gaze into each other before bursting into more giggles or succumbing once more to their lust.
The sensation of something hot and rubbery against my thigh came as a shock to me, and as my gaze shifted to look, I expected to see some male suitor encroaching from between us. Instead, I saw an incongruously large penis sprouting from between Callisto’s legs, visibly bobbing as it twitched in time with her heartbeat.
My own shock failed to register on my face, which smiled with what I felt was both encouragement to the woman on top of me and a vindictive irony at my helplessness.
If Callisto was aware of my revulsion behind the smile, she showed no sign of it. Instead, she chose to slide her shaft between my legs, thrusting slowly back and forth so that its length ran along my nether lips in languid, luxurious strokes.
My body squealed, arching its back as I felt muscles within me twitch and spasm in delighted anticipation. Over the course of what felt like hours, my disgust reluctantly gave way to frustration - my body teased to the edge of orgasm again and again without reaching the peak.
I wanted to cry. To bed for forgiveness for whatever crime I had committed to deserve this humiliation, whatever it took for them to unchain or - if I must remain under their control - to at least give me release.
As I cried out in my own mind, I felt my body giggle again, and I realised with mortified horror that the thing controlling me was indeed aware of my own thoughts and was gaining a twisted sense of enjoyment from my distress.
Before I could rally any kind of indignant rage to admonish them with, my lips whispered a command to Callisto, who obliged by drawing back and thrusting into me until our crotches were pressed together.
My possessor had been ready for it, and wrapped my legs around her lover to better grind my body against her, moaning in ecstasy as I was forced to share in her pleasure. Every part of my skin was electrified, and I could feel every hair, every raised pore, every millimetre of my breasts and vulva and sweat-slick skin rubbing and sliding and stretching over my muscles as they contorted and twitched.
It was magical. As ashamed as I am to say it even now, it was like nothing I had experienced in my life up to that instant, and while I still try to convince myself that the memory makes me sick with disgust, the truth is that I am filled with a painful sense of longing for that moment and the many others that followed.
She had called out a name as she poured herself into me, the warmth of her seed spreading a fire throughout my body. “Artemis,” she had cried out, and my own body moaned hers in response. Even after the spasms eased, we spent some time simply basking in each other’s warmth and the afterglow of climax.
We did not remain in each other’s arms for long, and soon afterwards I would find myself once again being handed from partner to partner, sometimes one by one, sometimes in groups of four or more, each one of them hungry to savour this new morsel that had been puppeteered into their den. There was no effort to engage in intimacy, no connection formed other than the purely physical. I was the evening’s main dish, and I found myself being tasted by many mouths.
I wish I could say that I blacked out, or that overstimulation numbed me such that time passed in a blur. I was granted no such mercy. I remember clearly peeling my viscid skin from the evening’s final paramour. I remember finding my garments among the pile by the door. I remember the knowing leer of the hotel staff as I saw myself out the lobby to a waiting cab that answered to foreign instructions and demanded no fee. I remember my confusion slowly turning to horror as I recognised the streets I was being driven down - that the thing within me had somehow gleaned my address and was taking me home. Is that how they had found me? Had some enchantment been weaved on me as I slept, culminating in my capture earlier that day?
As I watched my body wash itself thoroughly, sneering at what modest comforts I could afford myself, I hoped with increasing desperation that the rising of a new sun would banish the nightmare. Despite certainly knowing my thoughts, my body gave no response besides rolling naked into bed and closing my eyes. I had only moments of darkness before the current of sleep dragged me under.
*
My eyes opened to the sound of my morning alarm, and it was with a sudden rush of relief that I sat up in dawn’s early light. That relief was short-lived, as my body had in truth been obeying its new master, who had simply risen as I would have done. Now I felt the world turn as my body spun out of bed and practically danced to the bathroom mirror to admire by the light of day the prize it had stolen.
The expression of vindictive glee it wore with my face contrasted against my own horror, and while it spared no words for what it was or why it had chosen me, it took the time to tease us both to solitary climax with my stolen hands.
Far from being freed, that morning marked the first full day of my new nightmare: A nightmare in which my body would walk familiar streets, greet familiar faces and complete familiar tasks without fault or any sign that I was anyone but myself. I soon realised that its knowledge of my address was not the fruit of reconnaissance, but its ability to effortlessly reach into my mind and pluck what memories it needed at will.
Trapped within myself, I watched as my body greeted my peers and superiors with the deference each deserved, attended the venues and gatherings at which my absence would be noted and carried out my duties to a standard surpassing my own. It was on this last point that I felt my wayward body becoming unaccountably aroused, as praise was heaped upon my impostor for the improvement in performance. I realised that whoever had taken my life, they were gaining a wicked sense of glee for living it better than I had, and that should my body ever be returned to me, I would struggle to live up to the new expectations my possessor had created for me.
It was with this terrible realisation that I watched my body bid farewell to my unsuspecting coworkers, hailing down a taxi and speaking once again in that unknown tongue. The cab drove us back to the hotel from the evening before, and my horror deepend at the revelation that last night’s humiliation had only been the first of many.
From that day onwards, debauchery became my body’s nightly diversion. I would wake with my body in the morning, watch during the day in the futile hope that some trusted friend would glean the falsehood of my countenance, then once again find myself victim to the myriad indecencies my body would visit upon itself and others.
Most times it would be at the same hotel, though on rare occasions I would find myself being piloted to one of the party member’s own domiciles. Against my will, I became familiar with the personal penthouses of many wealthy figures in the city, earning entry through various acts of self-debasement. Country cottages, summer homes, private jets; my body took itself on a tour between various spheres of power and influence, grovelling and dancing and mewling its way under every table to lick the floor clean of scraps.
Upon my first encounter with a true public figure, I had resolved to burn the sight of every face and the sound of every name into my memory, such that upon my eventual release I could throw back the curtain on the carnival of corruption and gain some measure of closure for the suffering inflicted upon me. Naively, I hoped to retain enough information to tear down their palaces of sin and expose their crimes to the world.
A stupid, childish ambition.
In the three months since my release, no matter how I wrack my brain, no matter how many newspaper photos I look at and how many public broadcasts I watch, not a single name or face evokes so much as a twitch of recognition. Whatever memories I had retained up to the day of my release, my possessor had reached into my mind and erased them.
But I remembered Callisto. Among the countless sea of fog-obscured faces that flooded my recollection, Callisto’s remained clear.
I saw her surprisingly rarely, given the relationship she had with the thing controlling me. I had no idea where she was on the many nights I endured without her, and there was no pattern or apparent purpose to her attendance. Some nights she was simply there waiting for me, and some nights she would arrive later and seek me out in the heaving, sighing, moaning mass of limbs and flesh.
Despite its many sordid engagements with countless partners, Callisto was the only one that my body was truly intimate with. They would burrow out a private nest among the pillows, slink away to some shadowed corner booth or in one case, cradle each other in the arms of the statue that dominated the hall where everyone could see, but none could reach.
Callisto was the first and only person my body invited back to my own apartment, and while I raged at this latest invasion of my privacy and trespass on my life, I could not overcome the excitement burning through my body as it gave Callisto a tour of my meagre dwellings.
Unlike Artemis, Callisto did not sneer. She had eyes only for her lover, and it wasn’t long before they were tumbling naked onto my bed.
I had invited some promising suitors to my apartment in the past, and in exceptional cases had invited them to spend the night in my bed, but I had experienced nothing like the overwhelming passion these creatures felt for each other. As they lay panting in the dim lamplight, gazing into each other’s eyes, I had to remind myself that the sensation of joyous fulfilment welling up in my heart was not my own, and that the gorgeous woman leaning in to press her lips against mine was not my lover, but a concubine to the foul thing that wore my face and had stolen my life.
It was perhaps six months since losing control of myself that I arrived as accustomed to the hotel banquet to find Callisto waiting for me but unaccountably nervous, as though she had suddenly shrunk in on herself and lost all sense of confidence.
She approached me with uncharacteristic trepidation and in a quavering voice spoke the name Artemis, as though unsure if I was still being controlled.
The thing wearing my face smiled, but not with the warmth or affection I had come to expect. It was a sinister smile. A predatory smile. And, like a predator, she drew Callisto into her arms and flung her to the floor before pouncing on top of her while the crowd roared with laughter.
Artemis seemed to have grown weary of her lover, and I felt my blood surge in unwanted excitement as I watched the horror of realisation drawn on Callisto’s face. I felt her body squirm beneath my weight as she cried out in pain and fear, begging for forgiveness as my hands roughly tore at her clothes. Despite her protestations, she was fully erect beneath her skirt and my body laughed at her humiliation as it brought her struggling upright, exposing her shame to the mocking throng.
I had never pictured Callisto as being possessed of physical or mental strength, and my suspicions were confirmed as the poor girl hung helplessly from one arm gripped by my own hand while my other jerked her roughly to climax.
She moaned piteously as she emptied her soul onto the marble floor, and when thrown to her knees and ordered to clean it with her mouth, she did so without resistance, weeping such that her tears mingled with her seed on the floor.
That was the last time I saw Callisto while deprived of control. I remember taking on new lovers to varying degrees of intimacy, but any memory of names or faces have been pulled clean from my mind.
My impression of the six months that followed were simply of the same routine: Appear as normal during the day, lascivious pursuits by night punctuated by weekends of debauchery.
It was with a genuine sense of shock that one morning I woke up to find that my body did not rise from my bed of its own accord, nor did it leap to the mirror to admire itself. Instead, it lay listlessly in bed, staring at the ceiling.
With a great effort of will, reforging the connection from months of disuse, I raised my hand up to my face.
My body was my own once more.
*
I did not cheer, I did not even smile. I realised that despite my freedom, I had somehow not recovered control of my body. Even the steady rise and fall of my breast was automatic, and I could neither slow nor hold my breath.
It took several frustrating minutes just to move my eyes and turn my head. Moving my limbs felt like swimming in mud, and I would have cried from the effort if I could only remember how.
I could not stand. I could barely raise myself on all fours, the softness of the mattress causing me to lose what little balance I could muster. It was not until I heard the chime of my phone that I realised I had spent several hours simply trying to get out of bed.
Mercifully, my phone was close to hand, and while the first two calls failed before I could reach it, I was able to answer the third.
“Angie, where are you? It’s almost midday!”
I recognised the voice as my supervisor. Thanks to my artificially improved performance, I was her star employee, and her concern at my sudden absence was clear in her voice.
“Hrrn,” I said, my throat thick and my tongue sluggish.
“Angie? Are you there?”
“Heeln,” I managed, my vision swimming with the effort.
“Oh my God, Angie. Are you okay?”
“Herlp. Mrr.” It was all I could think of saying.
“Oh, God. Oh, God, Angie you stay where you are, I’m going to get help.”
It was a thin silver lining of my possession. Possibly Artemis had intended it from the start: That the person charged with contacting me from work would also be kind enough not simply to worry, but also to act if she thought I was in danger. No doubt she believed I was suffering some kind of medical emergency, though she could never have guessed the truth.
I soon found myself in hospital, where I was diagnosed with a sudden onset neurological disorder. The doctors had come to that conclusion after many frustrated attempts to quantify my condition via their many scans and tests. They suggested more out of hope than certainty that my condition would improve with rest and gradual physical therapy.
I wasn’t about to correct them. Not simply because of my inability to speak or write, but also because they would most definitely have deemed me insane as well as crippled.
Their prognosis proved sound, despite their ignorance. Over the course of the next four weeks, I gradually regained the use of my own body thanks to the patience of the staff assigned to me. It was maddeningly tedious, frustrating work, but by the end of the month I was able to walk unassisted out of the hospital to the taxi that was waiting for me.
For a moment I thought I might recognise the driver, or that they might recognise me. I had already come to the realisation that my memories had been tampered with, but if I perhaps mumbled something in the correct tone with enough confidence, would he still think me under Artemis’ control?
I gave my address and went home.
After that, my life fell apart. As predicted, I could not match the workplace performance Artemis had given while wearing my body, and what began as sympathy for my recent hospitalisation turned to frustration at my inability to recover.
Compounding my poor state of mind was the persistent sensation of emptiness that stole over me in the night: The feeling that I should be wrapped in the arms of another, gorging myself on their scent and sweat instead of languishing alone in the coldness of solitude.
Weeks passed one after the other with not only a failure to improve but the bitter void within me growing deeper with every passing night. I would dream of Callisto’s tear-stained face and wake up begging for forgiveness.
I entertained the idea of returning to the hotel, to the crucible of sin I had been forced to spend a year of my life, but the fantasy of what would happen on my arrival grew increasingly deranged. No arm of the law could be trusted to stand against the men who had taken advantage of my body while I was possessed, and even if I could somehow fool the guards into thinking I was still being controlled, what could I hope to achieve upon my return?
Despite this, I found myself helplessly drawn to the street outside the hotel in the safety of daylight, trapped at the periphery, both hoping and dreading being seen and recognised.
It was there, nine months after last laying eyes on her, that I saw Callisto.
I did not call out, but instead ran with a silent desperation to catch up to her as she moved through the crowd. The sound of my footsteps drew her attention, and she turned just as I drew close enough to reach out and grab her.
The look of sudden terror on her face caused my heart to sink, but her expression quickly turned to one of confusion as she clearly saw the difference in my nature since our last meeting.
“You,” she said, with none of the fear I remembered in her voice. “You’re not Artemis, are you?”
It was in that moment that I felt the ground tilt beneath me, a sudden dizziness claiming my mind as I came to terms with the implications of her question.
A pair of arms grabbed me, not unkindly but without unwarranted tenderness. I looked into eyes I had been made to fall in love with against my will, and saw another soul behind them.
She wasn’t Callisto. She never had been. Just as the thing that answered to the name Artemis had worn me as its meat puppet, a creature that called itself Callisto had worn her.
The horror must have shown in my expression, because hers softened as one who had experienced the same loss and revelation.
She embraced me then, and I held onto her as though she were the only real thing in the world: Two lovers deprived of their souls.
We found ourselves at a nearby cafe sometime later, recounting the circumstances of our respective capture, speculating how it was done and pointedly pretending not to know any intimate details of the other’s anatomy.
Her name was Christina, and after what seemed like much internal debate, she asked if I wanted to go back.
I was horrified at the suggestion, bringing up her own mistreatment as reason never to return, but she admitted that even after her rejection and humiliation at my hands under Artemis’ control, she had continued attending other venues to indulge her carnal impulses, describing the same cold hollowness that had robbed me of sleep for so many nights.
I told her that I would need some time to think about it, and in the dying light of the setting sun, she offered to walk me home.
She did not in fact remember my address from her evening with Artemis - Callisto having robbed her of the memory - but her face lit up in recognition when I let her into my apartment. Neither of us needed to say that she had never intended to simply walk me home, and after a brief moment of awkwardness, we found ourselves in each other’s arms once again, though for the first time of our own volition.
The lovemaking was… awkward. Neither of us possessed the confidence, nor ravenous hunger for the other that the creatures controlling us had possessed, but there was a sincerity to the moment we shared that was entirely unique.
My body still remembered the shape of her as she pushed herself into me, hesitant despite the countless times we had rutted with abandon in the past. There were no heroic thrusts, no cries of triumph or ecstasy; just a pair of stringless puppets filling the hole in one another’s lives.
*
We returned to the hotel the next morning. My life was beyond recovery, and Christina seemed to have given up on her own.
The true extent of her despair did not dawn on me until I witnessed the familiarity with which she was greeted by the denizens of the grand hall. A familiarity that betrayed the fact that she had in fact already returned, possibly while I was still possessed and that the memory of seeing her again had simply been erased from my mind.
Too numb with shock to resist, I found myself being led first by Christina but soon by the entire congregation, shepherding and pulling and lifting me up to the feet of the statue where two figures lay draped in its arms.
Despite wearing new faces, I recognised their expressions at once. Artemis and Callisto leered down at us: Two discarded skins now returned to their lair.
Through a haze of terror I heard Christina praise their names and claimed me as her other half in the coming sacrifice. I had no knowledge of what she was speaking of, but whatever horror lay in store for me seemed a fitting start to yet another nightmare.
The body of the woman Artemis now wore sniffed, looking down at me with scorn. She wondered aloud if I had actually been informed of the coming ritual, chastising Christina with a reminder that the sacrifice must be voluntary or the coming rite would fail.
Christina turned to me then, an anguished hope in her eyes.
We could still be together. Not as Callisto and Artemis, not as Christina and Angela, but as the new souls that would be summoned from beyond the void to fill our vessels and once again give purpose to our lives.
We had tasted the joy of subjugation, and would remain forever desolate if we continued to obstinately exist without a master.
She had deceived me. By omission and by trickery, she had deceived me into returning here, but on this she spoke truly. She knew I had felt the emptiness within me as surely as my own warm heart had been plucked from my chest - and emptiness she had been forced to suffer half a year longer than I. I saw in her desperation what I could become if I refused.
I agreed, though neither the triumphant roar of the throng nor the tight, grateful embrace Christina gave me assuaged my fear.
There was no drinking of blood or reading of entrails, no sonorous gong or ringing of bells. It happened in an instant. No sooner had Christina tearfully released me than I felt the shiver run through me once more.
It was different this time: Where a year ago, it had felt like stepping through a sheet of frigid water, now it was like a distant pattering of freezing droplets raining down on me, first as a trickle but gradually growing into a flood.
In my soul I knew what the difference was: Over a year ago, I had been assaulted by the will of some foul spirit that already commanded a foothold in our world. Now some new demon was being called, called from across the infinite planes of space to its new home in my mortal shell.
In my terror, I considered resisting, but it was already too late. I gasped as the mist filled me - the last action I would ever make with my own body. I felt the rivulets of ice spread from my chest into my spine, splitting into countless fine hairs that ran along my arms and legs into hands, feet, fingers and toes. I felt the cold reach up into my neck, my skull, my face and finally, my mind. I felt it dig its cold claws into every inch of me before wresting control like an apple plucked from the tree.
I felt full. I felt whole. I felt my face break into a lascivious smile, mirrored on the face of what was no longer Christina as we stood, still with our arms around each other.
As the beings controlling us sealed their dominion over our bodies with a kiss, I felt Christina’s length sliding into my already slick womanhood, our bodies like virgins to the occupying souls.
As our conquered bodies rapidly reached climax, I felt the invading spirit settle over mine completely and knew with terrible certainty that this one would never let go.
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Ben and Emma are teenagers who go to the same high school and have been next door neighbors since they were kids. But after drifting apart for a few years, can a body swapping app bring them back together? What does it mean for Emma's burgeoning with the school bully, Jake?
This story covers the first half of the commission, due to length. The second half will be written and published in the coming weeks seperately.
Ben moved slowly through the bustling halls of Lincoln High, his face buried in the latest issue of Lunar Phantom, a new manga series he'd recently gotten into. He was an ordinary high school boy of medium build, with glasses perched precariously on his nose, hair unruly in a fashion that spoke more of negligence than style. His anime-themed backpack was more an advertisement of his passions than a call to belong.
A sudden shout jolted him from his colorful world of dragons and mythical creatures. It was a voice he knew well. A voice that made his insides shrink and twist. Jake.
Jake towered over the crowd, a behemoth in a letterman jacket, rippling muscles hinted at beneath the cloth. His presence was as chilling as a harsh winter's breeze, causing the sea of students to part as he strode towards Ben, eyes gleaming with a harsh intensity that promised trouble.
"Hey, nerd," Jake sneered, swatting the manga from Ben's hands, sending it flying across the hallway. The bright panels of Lunar Phantom lay scattered on the floor, a stark contrast against the dull linoleum. The hallway fell silent, eyes darting from Ben to Jake and back, anticipation hanging in the air like a heavy cloud.
"Whoops” laughed Jake. “Looks like you dropped your comic book!” Jake smirked at him like it was the funniest thing ever.
Ben reached down to pick up the scattered pages, hands shaking, but Jake's boot descended onto the colorful paper, grinding it under his heel. The snickers of Jake's friends echo’d around them.
“Oi, Jake” a male voice said, gesturing.
Around the corner came a beautiful girl wearing a cheerleader's uniform, and Jake quickly abandoned his mockery. He straightened up, pushing Ben to the side, and strode towards Emma. Left alone in the wake of the bully's departure, Ben clenched his jaw, simmering in a mix of embarrassment and resentment.
Emma was laughing, her blonde hair bouncing as she gestured animatedly at something one of her friends said. A group had gathered around her, attracted by the radiant cheerleader who had a kind word for everyone.
"Hey, Emma," Jake called out, causing Emma to turn towards him. Her blue eyes widened in surprise before being replaced by a warm smile.
"Hey, Jake," she replied, her voice melodic. She adjusted the red and white pompoms in her hand as she greeted him. They must have just come from practice.
The sight of Jake and Emma laughing together caused a sour taste to rise in Ben's mouth. He watched as Jake threw his arm casually over Emma's shoulder, making her giggle. Every smile she flashed at Jake was a jab at Ben's pride.
"Hey, so I was thinking," Jake began, his voice slipping into a softer tone as he leaned in closer to Emma. "Hell-o-saurus is coming out on Thursday. Thought maybe we could check it out together?"
Emma looked surprised for a moment, a blush creeping up her cheeks. "Sure,," she replied, "I'd like that."
Ben clenched his fist. Of all the things… He watched as Jake gave Emma a triumphant grin and squeezed her shoulder lightly before he pushed off the lockers and ambled away, leaving a starstruck Emma behind.
Ben waited for a moment, the taste of his own defeat still bitter on his tongue. Finally, gathering his scattered manga and the remaining shreds of his pride, he approached Emma.
"What's so great about him?" Ben grumbled, giving voice to the annoyance he'd been nursing.
Emma jumped, startled. "Oh, Ben!" she said, her surprise quickly replaced by a soft smile. "I didn't see you there."
Ben scowled, his eyes following the figure of the retreating bully. "What do you even see in him?"
Emma shrugged, her smile fading slightly. "Ah, I don’t know. He's... nice, you know?" she replied, struggling to articulate her thoughts. "Confident, protective. He knows what he wants, you know? But isn’t pushy or desperate to get it."
"Yeah, nice," Ben muttered, his words dripping with sarcasm. “And not pushy…” he rubbed his shoulder where Ben had literally pushed him against the lockers. He stared at Emma, part of him wondering what it would be like to be her. How differently people treated them just because of their appearance. If he was her… well, he’d be able to dump Jake at least.
He smirked as he imagined Jake’s face, Emma’s body telling him exactly what Ben wanted.
“Anyway, it was nice to see you, Ben” Emma said as she turned back to her cheerleader friends. They quickly got to gossiping about the upcoming date, leaving Ben totally ignored and alone.
___________________________
Later that evening, Ben sat hunched over his laptop, the soft glow of the screen the only illumination. He’d been clicking around, bored and uninspired, when he came across a forum talking about body swapping. And talking about it way more seriously then he’d seen before. A role play group?
“NewYou is wild” read the opening post of a thread that caught Ben's attention. A few quick clicks later, he was deep into the thread, engrossed in the accounts shared by the anonymous users, all apparently claiming to have swapped bodies.
“Experienced NewYou for the first time last week with my gym buddy. It was hilarious and weird. Flexing muscles I didn't even know existed and tasting food for the first time without my nut allergy was something else. Having to bench press twice my original weight was cool.”
“Okay, so I swapped with my younger sis, thought it would be a piece of cake. Boy, it was weird. I lost about a foot of height, and everybody treated me real different. She was massively embarrassing in my body too. Bleh! On the upside, I aced a history test for her, so I think she owes me for that.”
“You're gonna think I'm crazy, but I swapped with my cat because my friend Stace dared me to on a sleepover. BAD IDEA! As soon as we swapped, the cat in my old body went kinda crazy. She swiped at me, and do you KNOW how weird it is to get hit by your own hand!?! Stace had to hold her down for us to swap back. 7/5 with rice LOL!”
Thread after thread, post after post, the users' casual discussions about swapping bodies sent Ben's heart racing. They described the shock of waking up in a new body, the strange feeling of looking into a mirror and seeing someone else's face, the sheer thrill of walking in someone else's shoes. Literally!
He had to get in on this.
It turned out downloading the app wasn’t too difficult. You needed to put your phone into developer mode and hook it up to a computer, but essentially you could just download the software from the website and run it. Both people needed to do it on separate phones though, and both needed to agree to swap. That was the tricky part - Ben didn’t know who might want to swap with him of all people.
Unless…
"Emma," Ben mumbled to himself, the idea no longer an impossibility. It was as if the universe was answering his prayers. His mind raced with potential scenarios, all the things he could do. He could finally show Emma the real Jake, he could experience what it was like to be popular, and who knew, maybe he'd enjoy cheerleading. She was always pretty open to trying new things… who knows, maybe she’d do it as a favor?
Taking a deep breath, he grabbed his jacket and bolted out of his house. The evening air was cool against his face, and the usually short journey to Emma's house felt like it took ages. He stood in front of her white picket fence, swallowed his nervousness, and walked up to the front door.
He rapped on the door lightly, his heart pounding in his chest. Emma’s mom answered the door, and with a surprised smile, she let him in. Emma's house had always been a home away from home for Ben when they were younger. The familiar smells and sounds brought back a wave of nostalgia.
Ben found Emma in her room, sitting on her bed, her cheerleader uniform discarded in favor of comfy pajamas. Her room was filled with cheerleading trophies, pop posters, and make-up scattered across her dressing table.
“Oh! Hey, Ben!” Emma exclaimed, surprised but clearly pleased. “What are you doing here?”
He took a deep breath. "I wanted to talk to you about something."
"Oh, what is it?" Emma asked, sitting up straight, her face filled with curiosity.
"Do you ever wish you could be someone else? Even if it was just for a day?"
She looked at him quizzically, her head tilted to one side. "Um, no, not really. I mean I’ve been curious about–” she stopped talking, “Why are you asking?"
Ben took out his phone, showing her the NewYou app he had just downloaded.
"Because," he said, his heart pounding in his chest, "I think we can."
Emma looked at the screen of Ben's phone, frowning slightly. "NewYou? Is this some sort of game?"
"No, it's not a game," Ben said, shaking his head. "It's an app. It lets two people swap bodies."
He held his breath, waiting for Emma's reaction. She stared at the screen for a moment longer before bursting into laughter. "That's ridiculous! There's no way such a thing is real. You can't seriously believe this, Ben."
Ben didn't waver, didn't retract his statement. He had expected her to be skeptical. "I know it sounds crazy, but I think it's worth a try. Think about it, Emma. What if you could see the world from a different perspective? Wouldn't you like to experience what it's like to be someone else?"
Emma stopped laughing, considering his words. She looked at him, her blue eyes searching his face. "You're serious about this, aren't you?"
He nodded, keeping his gaze steady on hers. "I am."
A thoughtful silence filled the room as Emma took in his words. Ben could see the gears turning in her head. He knew her well enough to know that she was considering it. Emma was always up for a challenge, always ready to try new things. That was one of the things he admired about her.
Finally, she sighed, shaking her head in disbelief. "Okay, let's say I believe you. And let's say I'm willing to give this a shot. Why would you want to swap bodies with me?"
Ben considered his words carefully. "To see the world differently. You’re popular, you’re cool, people look up to you, and you’re, you know…” he gestured at her.
She giggled. “Hot?”
“I was going to say ‘a girl’, but yeah, that too.”
She punched him on the arm. “Alright Cinderella! You better not ruin this view when I get back to it!” She looked down at herself, stretching her arms out.
Ben exhaled, relief washing over him. He grinned at Emma, excitement buzzing in his veins.
Emma downloaded the app on her phone, following Ben's instructions, then they both opened it and Ben initiated the request to swap. Emma accepted it with a quick tap on her screen.
Their screens flickered for a moment.
“I don’t think anything happened.” said Emma, unsurprised. “God you almost had me going there!”
“No, no, wait” said Ben. “I can feel something.”
His hands and feet had begun tingling, and his stomach felt like it was dropping. Down. Away.
Ben blinked and found himself sitting on the other side of the room.
His phone buzzed. “Swap successful. Enjoy your NewYou!"
Ben gasped and looked down at his hands. Delicate fingers, manicured nails instead of his usual large and bony hands.
"Oh my god," Ben whispered, looking up at Emma. His voice was higher, softer. Emma's voice. His heart raced as he reached up to touch his - no, her - face, feeling the smooth skin beneath his fingers.
He looked at Emma, who seemed to be going through a similar realization. Her eyes were wide, her mouth agape as she looked down at her - his - hands.
"Ben," she said, her voice lower, rougher. Ben's voice. "I think it worked."
Ben could only nod, his mind racing with the possibilities. They had done it. They had swapped bodies! And… easily! How was this not in every media outlet? How was this not all over the internet?!
Still clutching the phone in his dainty hands, Ben stood up, surprised by the effort it took. He looked down. The ground seemed closer than normal, as if he wasn’t standing up at all. He gingerly touched the soft fabric of the sweater he was wearing, and the gentle curve of the waist beneath it. He felt light, free, different. He very deliberately didn’t touch the breasts that were now hanging on his chest, not when their former owner was standing just a few feet away, though he felt them jiggle as he moved.
Emma, standing awkwardly in Ben’s body, snorted. “This is so weird,” she grumbled, adjusting the baggy jeans. She tried to cross her arms, a habit of hers, but found the movement unfamiliar and slightly awkward.
Then, she turned to look at her own body, now occupied by Ben. She raised a hand and brushed her own hair out of her former eyes.
Seeing her own face from an outsider's perspective was strange, almost surreal. She frowned as she gently tracing the contours of the face she knew so well, yet was now so alien. The long lashes, the soft lips, the small mole on the left cheek - everything was the same and yet, so very different.
"Wow," she breathed out, her voice deep and rough. "I didn't realize... I mean, you're… I'm… pretty."
Ben blushed, a pink hue appearing on his - no, her - fair cheeks. It was a strange sensation. His skin tingling, heart pounding in a chest that was no longer his.
“Yeah, you… I mean, I…” Ben stammered, flustered and unsure how to respond to that. “This is a lot to take in.”
There was a pause as the reality of their situation sunk in. They had swapped bodies, an impossible event made reality by an obscure app and a moment of daring curiosity.
"Let's just... take it slow, okay?" Emma finally broke the silence. She gestured to a mirror on the wall. "Maybe we should start with getting used to our new appearances."
And so they did. They stood in front of the mirror, marveling at the reflection that looked back at them. There was Ben, there was Emma. But the reflection of Ben wasn’t where it should be – it was two feet to the left of where it should be! Weird.
Just as they were starting to make peace with their reflections, a knock echoed through the room, followed by a muffled voice. "Emma, honey, dinner's ready."
Emma's - or rather, Ben's - eyes widened. He quickly turned to look at Emma, panic flickering in his gaze. She seemed calmer. “Well, you wanted to experience being me!”
"I know," he said, trying to steady his racing heart. "I have to go. I can do this. I can pretend to be you for one evening."
Emma was silent for a moment, her lips pressed into a thin line as she considered his words. "Just... be careful, okay?" she finally said, her tone serious. "And text me if anything happens."
Ben nodded, giving her a small, assuring smile. Then, with a last look at the mirror, he left the room, his new ponytail bouncing with each step he took.
Dinner was a rollercoaster of emotions for Ben. Emma's parents were lovely people, he found, even if her younger brother was quite the pest. He did his best to act like Emma, mimicking her speech patterns and mannerisms. He laughed at her father's puns and helped her mother serve the salad. It was going well until dessert.
As he was reaching for a piece of pie, his sleeve snagged the bowl of cream, sending it splattering all over himself and the tablecloth. A gasp ran through the room, and Ben felt his cheeks heat up in embarrassment.
"Oh, Emma!" her mother exclaimed, rushing to wipe the mess with a napkin. "That's not like you at all."
Ben blushed and apologized.
“I guess you better go have a shower and clean up. Don’t worry about it down here.”
Oh.
Oh no.
_______________________
Meanwhile, back at Ben's place, Emma was trying to navigate Ben's life. His parents were nice enough, though they asked a lot of questions about school and her - Ben's - future. She smiled and nodded, providing vague answers when she could. She even played a round of video games with Ben's 13 year old sister. It was a novelty for Emma, who had never been much of a gamer. But, it was nice, she thought. Different, but nice.
They were loading a new level when her phone buzzed. A message from ‘Emma’.
“Hey, so, um, I spilled some pie all over you.”
For some reason Ben had also sent a picture. It was an angled selfie, showed Emma’s body standing alone in her room, barefoot, clothes askew, and still covered in pie
“Should I- change and shower?”
Emma paused. Obviously? She wasn’t sure when he expected, if they were going to be each other for a few days. Was he never going to use the toilet too?
She texted back a “Yes, of course. Don’t wet my hair.” and got back to the game.
_____________________
As the first tendrils of sunlight began to stretch across the sky, Ben, in Emma's lithe frame, and Emma, housed within Ben's gangly body, stood side by side at the bus stop. The air was crisp, carrying the faint smell of dew-soaked grass.
They stood in silence, each immersed in the thoughts of their extraordinary circumstance.
"Your brother is quite the early bird, isn't he?" Ben finally broke the silence, his voice soft with Emma's familiar lilt. He was fiddling with a thread on Emma's pink scarf, not meeting her gaze. “He woke me up by diving on top of me at six in the morning.”
Emma giggled, the sound strange in the deeper resonance of Ben's voice. "Yeah, he'll do that. Any trouble after the pie incident?"
Ben blushed. “I swear I didn’t look at anything I shouldn’t have!”
Emma giggled again. “Well you better have cleaned everything you should have! I certainly enjoyed not having to sit down to pee this morning.”
“You mean you’ve seen-”
“What did you expect, you dolt! I’m inside your body!” Emma spread her arms wide, as if showing him who she was.
“It gets bigger…” Ben muttered
“Oh, I know”
“Wait- what–”
Their casual conversation was interrupted by the arrival of their school bus. The familiar yellow behemoth lumbered into view, its tires crunching on the gravel. They climbed aboard, momentarily parting ways to their respective seats.
No sooner had they settled down than a chorus of high-pitched squeals rang through the bus. A gaggle of Emma's friends, a vibrant assortment of high school girls, were waving energetically at Ben.
"Emma! Get over here!" they called out voices bubbling with enthusiasm.
Ben shot Emma a puzzled look, to which she responded with a smirk. "Go on. It will be good for you."
With a sigh that was equal parts resignation and nervous excitement, Ben rose and joined Emma's friends. Their conversation was a whirlwind of girlish chatter, an onslaught of cheerleading stories, crush confessions, and fashion advice. Soon, one of the girls produced a top from a bags, a beautiful, silky number that made Ben's new heart flutter.
"This would look SO good on you, Emma!" one of them gushed, holding the top up against Ben's body. "The color would really bring out your eyes!"
Feeling a warm blush creep up his cheeks, Ben nodded and thanked them, feeling an odd pang of guilt for the deceit. He was not Emma, and yet, he was playing her part, basking in her social glow. A small part of him felt like a fraud. Plus the shirt was… rather revealing. It would show off his cleavage and belly button at once. He tried to turn his head to see what Emma thought, but he couldn’t get a good look.
“I wanted to give it to you for your date with Jake” the girl continued, unabated. “He’s got a thing for midriffs, Jess told me that when she was dating him, he…”
From the back of the bus, Emma was watching the entire spectacle unfold. An unfamiliar twinge of jealousy gnawed at her as she saw Ben - or rather, her body - being swept away into the mirthful chatter of her friends. She was left there, alone, in Ben's body, a spectator in her own life.
But amidst that feeling, there was also a sense of intrigue. Observing Ben navigate the complexities of her social life was enlightening, to say the least. He wasn’t being especially suave, but her friends seemed so understanding and patient with him- her- she should really appreciate them more. An off day? Nobody was batting an eye.
As the bus pulled up at the school, Ben was swept away with Emma’s friends, while Emma followed slowly behind, left alone by everyone. Ben was just beginning to get comfortable with their cheerful chatter when a friend, Amanda, suddenly leaned in and squinted at Ben's face.
"Oh my god, Emma!" Amanda gasped, covering her mouth with one hand. "What happened to your makeup? It looks like a two-year-old attacked your face with crayons."
The group of girls burst into laughter, their high-pitched giggles echoing around the bus. Ben felt heat rushing to his cheeks. He’d tried his hand at a bit of powder that morning, but he didn’t think it was that bad. He looked at Emma, who gave him an empathetic shrug. The world of makeup was a mystery to Ben, a chapter in the book of femininity he had never even flipped through.
"Well, we can't let you go around looking like that," Amanda declared, standing up. She took Ben's hand and started pulling him towards the bathroom. "We need to fix this, now."
As Amanda began to work on Ben's face, he watched his reflection in the mirror. It was surreal, seeing Amanda's hands move across his face, feeling the soft brush against his skin, but not recognizing the face that stared back at him. It was a face he was familiar with - Emma's face - but it was also a stranger's.
"Trust me, you'll look so much better after this," Amanda chatted away, her voice a comforting hum in the background. Ben listened to her and the other girls as they talked about the latest school gossip, their plans for the weekend, the new teacher everyone was crushing on.
The chatter was mundane, the kind of stuff Ben usually tuned out, but in this setting, it felt oddly intimate. He felt like he was getting a peek into a secret world, a glimpse into the life Emma led when he wasn't around.
Eventually, Amanda stepped back, her work done. Ben looked at himself in the mirror. His eyes were subtly lined, his cheeks flushed with a rosy blush, his lips a soft pink. He looked like Emma. And, strangely enough, he felt like Emma too.
"There," Amanda said, beaming at him. "Much better."
Ben blinked at his reflection, a smile slowly creeping onto his face. This was definitely going to take some getting used to. But for now, he was just Emma, living her life, one makeup touch-up at a time.
_______________________
Emma, inside Ben's body, could not escape the sensation of strangeness that filled her every step. Even the simple act of walking was different, the additional height and strength both a wonder and a challenge. She found herself bumping into things more often, her perception of her body's dimensions no longer accurate.
The bell for gym class rang just as she was getting a hang of her new stride. She watched as Ben was dragged off into the women’s change room by her classmates, and she sighed and headed into the boys. It was loud and smelly, but she was able to change undisturbed, her new bony fingers fumbling over the unfamiliar fabric of Ben's gym kit.
Basketball was the chosen game of the day, a game Emma had always played, but never particularly excelled at. She was too short to really have much of a chance. But as she stepped onto the court in Ben's body, she felt a surge of energy she had never experienced before. Her fingers closed around the leather ball with a certainty that surprised her. She could even hold the ball in one hand!
The first few minutes of the game were a chaos of movement. Emma watched her classmates as they moved across the court, noting their strategies, the ways they used their bodies to block or pass. Her own body responded in ways she wasn't expecting. It was taller, faster, stronger. Who knew that Ben’s body contained such power?
To her amazement, she found herself actually enjoying the game. She could shoot, pass and defend with ease. Her body moved with a fluidity she had never known, each move instinctive, as though she had been playing this way for years. The ball seemed to follow her command, the hoop an easy target.
As the game continued, Emma became more and more confident. She dodged her opponents, her new height providing her with an advantage she had never had before. She was making shots that she would have only dreamed of making in her own body.
She looked at the scoreboard. Her team was in the lead, and she had been a significant contributor. Her eyes met Ben's - or rather her own - standing on the sidelines, and she saw a look of surprise. Emma smiled, a small sense of pride washing over her.
When the final whistle blew, her team had won, and she found herself surrounded by her cheering classmates, guys slapping on the back, rustling her hair, making her feel proud! They would never do that to her in her own body! It was like all of the distance that she usually felt between herself and guys had disappeared, there was no awkwardness in the touching, no creepiness in the looks. They just slapped her on the back and cheered.
Emma realized then, under the bright lights of the gym, that she was living a day in Ben's shoes that she would never have experienced in her own body. For the first time, she felt a strange sense of gratitude towards the body swap. It wasn't all bad, after all.
__________________
Meanwhile, Ben had been navigating through the labyrinth of Emma's school day, filled with its own unique challenges. There was an increased attention to detail, an amplified sensitivity to social cues, an intricate dance of interactions that he was not familiar with.
When it was time for gym class, something that Ben had always dreaded, he found himself lucky enough to be on the sidelines, designated as one of the scorekeepers.
As the game started, his attention was drawn to his own body on the basketball court. Emma actually seemed to be enjoying herself! And not just enjoying herself, she was good! He watched in awe as she swiped the ball from an opposing player with a quickness he didn’t know his body was capable of, and then sprinted down the court before passing the ball hard and fast to a teammate who scored.
She was good, better than good. In his body, Emma was making shots that neither of them could have done in their own forms. What gives! She was moving with a confidence, a certain ease that was strangely mesmerizing.
He found himself clapping along with the others, cheering each time she scored a point. It was surreal, watching his own body perform so well under someone else's control. At the same time, he felt a kind of jealousy. How come he couldn’t play like that? A team mate whooped as Emma scored again, and high fived his old body as they ran up the court together. Ben didn’t even know that guy’s name. Why couldn’t he be popular like that?
As the final whistle blew, he watched as Emma's team celebrated their victory, watched as his own body was surrounded by cheering classmates, hugged and slapped and lifted up in the air. Ben clapped quietly, feeling strange, but when Emma jogged passed, she beamed at him, and he couldn’t help but smile.
He followed Emma’s friends back into the girls’ change room, and couldn’t help but chuckle as they chatted about “Ben's” newfound skills. One of them even wondered if he was single!
What the hell was going on?
______________________________________
The lunchroom was buzzing with activity as Ben took a seat at Emma's usual spot, surrounded by her friends. He got a salad. That’s the kind of thing Emma usually ate, right?
He found himself laughing and giggling with the other girls. Something inside him had relaxed a bit and he was having fun exaggerating his body’s exploits with them.
“Oh yeah” Ben said, “And his arms are super muscular!”
One of the girls laughed. “Oh shove off it, Emma! Now you’re just being silly!”
“But speaking of big arms…” another girl said with a grin.
Ben looked up, expecting to see Emma in his body. Instead, he was confronted by Jake, a smug, condescending grin on his face.
"Hey Emma," Jake greeted, seeming to dazzle everyone else at the table. "Looking gorgeous today, as usual."
Ben blushed. This was so weird.
“Uh…”
“So, I was thinking after our date on Thursday we could head up to the river. My Dad said I could borrow his BMW for the night. What do you reckon?”
Ewwwww god no! Ben was in no place to be thinking about that. He’d only been a girl for 12 hours or so!
“Uh, no, no thank you.”
“Huh? Why not?”
Ben looked down at himself. His lithe body, bare legs, perfect skin. Fuck Jake, he didn’t need to justify himself. The whole point of becoming Emma was so that he could feel what it was like to be socially powerful, daring, bold! And… he could do whatever he wanted!
“Because.. you’re a brainless moron.” he said, a slight smirk coming onto his face. Emma’s face! He was doing it! Emma was dumping Jake!
Jake’s mouth opened slightly, and he frowned, more confused than upset.
“Yeah, that’s right. You’re a bully. You’re mean. You’re an ugly, flat footed, stupid, neanderthal, um… dumb… just awful person!”
“What? But I thought-”
“And everybody hates you.” he added, just for good measure.
Jake clenched his jaw.
“So fuck off, actually, yeah fuck off back to whatever sewer you crawled out of. I never want to see you again!”
Ben smirked. That felt good.
Jake's face paled, shock evident in his blue eyes. There was an agonizingly long pause as the words hung in the air, the cafeteria around them a blur of stares and whispers.
With that, he turned and stormed out of the room, leaving Ben at the center of attention at the table, the girls still wide-eyed and silent.
Ben’s smug grin faded as he looked around the table, seeing the shock on the faces of Emma's friends. Surely it wasn’t that bad? Jake was an awful human. Emma would get over it. Besides, it was in her best interests not to end up with somebody like that.
These thoughts did little to help stop the sinking feeling in Ben’s stomach as he saw Emma gaping at him from across the room. She started to storm over to him, then stopped, seeming to change her mind, and scampered out of the room after Jake, tears in her eyes.
Ah.
Yes.
That was kind of mean. Just not to Jake.
To Be Continued.
This story covers the first half of the commission, due to length. The second half will be written and published in the coming weeks seperately.
Ben moved slowly through the bustling halls of Lincoln High, his face buried in the latest issue of Lunar Phantom, a new manga series he'd recently gotten into. He was an ordinary high school boy of medium build, with glasses perched precariously on his nose, hair unruly in a fashion that spoke more of negligence than style. His anime-themed backpack was more an advertisement of his passions than a call to belong.
A sudden shout jolted him from his colorful world of dragons and mythical creatures. It was a voice he knew well. A voice that made his insides shrink and twist. Jake.
Jake towered over the crowd, a behemoth in a letterman jacket, rippling muscles hinted at beneath the cloth. His presence was as chilling as a harsh winter's breeze, causing the sea of students to part as he strode towards Ben, eyes gleaming with a harsh intensity that promised trouble.
"Hey, nerd," Jake sneered, swatting the manga from Ben's hands, sending it flying across the hallway. The bright panels of Lunar Phantom lay scattered on the floor, a stark contrast against the dull linoleum. The hallway fell silent, eyes darting from Ben to Jake and back, anticipation hanging in the air like a heavy cloud.
"Whoops” laughed Jake. “Looks like you dropped your comic book!” Jake smirked at him like it was the funniest thing ever.
Ben reached down to pick up the scattered pages, hands shaking, but Jake's boot descended onto the colorful paper, grinding it under his heel. The snickers of Jake's friends echo’d around them.
“Oi, Jake” a male voice said, gesturing.
Around the corner came a beautiful girl wearing a cheerleader's uniform, and Jake quickly abandoned his mockery. He straightened up, pushing Ben to the side, and strode towards Emma. Left alone in the wake of the bully's departure, Ben clenched his jaw, simmering in a mix of embarrassment and resentment.
Emma was laughing, her blonde hair bouncing as she gestured animatedly at something one of her friends said. A group had gathered around her, attracted by the radiant cheerleader who had a kind word for everyone.
"Hey, Emma," Jake called out, causing Emma to turn towards him. Her blue eyes widened in surprise before being replaced by a warm smile.
"Hey, Jake," she replied, her voice melodic. She adjusted the red and white pompoms in her hand as she greeted him. They must have just come from practice.
The sight of Jake and Emma laughing together caused a sour taste to rise in Ben's mouth. He watched as Jake threw his arm casually over Emma's shoulder, making her giggle. Every smile she flashed at Jake was a jab at Ben's pride.
"Hey, so I was thinking," Jake began, his voice slipping into a softer tone as he leaned in closer to Emma. "Hell-o-saurus is coming out on Thursday. Thought maybe we could check it out together?"
Emma looked surprised for a moment, a blush creeping up her cheeks. "Sure,," she replied, "I'd like that."
Ben clenched his fist. Of all the things… He watched as Jake gave Emma a triumphant grin and squeezed her shoulder lightly before he pushed off the lockers and ambled away, leaving a starstruck Emma behind.
Ben waited for a moment, the taste of his own defeat still bitter on his tongue. Finally, gathering his scattered manga and the remaining shreds of his pride, he approached Emma.
"What's so great about him?" Ben grumbled, giving voice to the annoyance he'd been nursing.
Emma jumped, startled. "Oh, Ben!" she said, her surprise quickly replaced by a soft smile. "I didn't see you there."
Ben scowled, his eyes following the figure of the retreating bully. "What do you even see in him?"
Emma shrugged, her smile fading slightly. "Ah, I don’t know. He's... nice, you know?" she replied, struggling to articulate her thoughts. "Confident, protective. He knows what he wants, you know? But isn’t pushy or desperate to get it."
"Yeah, nice," Ben muttered, his words dripping with sarcasm. “And not pushy…” he rubbed his shoulder where Ben had literally pushed him against the lockers. He stared at Emma, part of him wondering what it would be like to be her. How differently people treated them just because of their appearance. If he was her… well, he’d be able to dump Jake at least.
He smirked as he imagined Jake’s face, Emma’s body telling him exactly what Ben wanted.
“Anyway, it was nice to see you, Ben” Emma said as she turned back to her cheerleader friends. They quickly got to gossiping about the upcoming date, leaving Ben totally ignored and alone.
___________________________
Later that evening, Ben sat hunched over his laptop, the soft glow of the screen the only illumination. He’d been clicking around, bored and uninspired, when he came across a forum talking about body swapping. And talking about it way more seriously then he’d seen before. A role play group?
“NewYou is wild” read the opening post of a thread that caught Ben's attention. A few quick clicks later, he was deep into the thread, engrossed in the accounts shared by the anonymous users, all apparently claiming to have swapped bodies.
“Experienced NewYou for the first time last week with my gym buddy. It was hilarious and weird. Flexing muscles I didn't even know existed and tasting food for the first time without my nut allergy was something else. Having to bench press twice my original weight was cool.”
“Okay, so I swapped with my younger sis, thought it would be a piece of cake. Boy, it was weird. I lost about a foot of height, and everybody treated me real different. She was massively embarrassing in my body too. Bleh! On the upside, I aced a history test for her, so I think she owes me for that.”
“You're gonna think I'm crazy, but I swapped with my cat because my friend Stace dared me to on a sleepover. BAD IDEA! As soon as we swapped, the cat in my old body went kinda crazy. She swiped at me, and do you KNOW how weird it is to get hit by your own hand!?! Stace had to hold her down for us to swap back. 7/5 with rice LOL!”
Thread after thread, post after post, the users' casual discussions about swapping bodies sent Ben's heart racing. They described the shock of waking up in a new body, the strange feeling of looking into a mirror and seeing someone else's face, the sheer thrill of walking in someone else's shoes. Literally!
He had to get in on this.
It turned out downloading the app wasn’t too difficult. You needed to put your phone into developer mode and hook it up to a computer, but essentially you could just download the software from the website and run it. Both people needed to do it on separate phones though, and both needed to agree to swap. That was the tricky part - Ben didn’t know who might want to swap with him of all people.
Unless…
"Emma," Ben mumbled to himself, the idea no longer an impossibility. It was as if the universe was answering his prayers. His mind raced with potential scenarios, all the things he could do. He could finally show Emma the real Jake, he could experience what it was like to be popular, and who knew, maybe he'd enjoy cheerleading. She was always pretty open to trying new things… who knows, maybe she’d do it as a favor?
Taking a deep breath, he grabbed his jacket and bolted out of his house. The evening air was cool against his face, and the usually short journey to Emma's house felt like it took ages. He stood in front of her white picket fence, swallowed his nervousness, and walked up to the front door.
He rapped on the door lightly, his heart pounding in his chest. Emma’s mom answered the door, and with a surprised smile, she let him in. Emma's house had always been a home away from home for Ben when they were younger. The familiar smells and sounds brought back a wave of nostalgia.
Ben found Emma in her room, sitting on her bed, her cheerleader uniform discarded in favor of comfy pajamas. Her room was filled with cheerleading trophies, pop posters, and make-up scattered across her dressing table.
“Oh! Hey, Ben!” Emma exclaimed, surprised but clearly pleased. “What are you doing here?”
He took a deep breath. "I wanted to talk to you about something."
"Oh, what is it?" Emma asked, sitting up straight, her face filled with curiosity.
"Do you ever wish you could be someone else? Even if it was just for a day?"
She looked at him quizzically, her head tilted to one side. "Um, no, not really. I mean I’ve been curious about–” she stopped talking, “Why are you asking?"
Ben took out his phone, showing her the NewYou app he had just downloaded.
"Because," he said, his heart pounding in his chest, "I think we can."
Emma looked at the screen of Ben's phone, frowning slightly. "NewYou? Is this some sort of game?"
"No, it's not a game," Ben said, shaking his head. "It's an app. It lets two people swap bodies."
He held his breath, waiting for Emma's reaction. She stared at the screen for a moment longer before bursting into laughter. "That's ridiculous! There's no way such a thing is real. You can't seriously believe this, Ben."
Ben didn't waver, didn't retract his statement. He had expected her to be skeptical. "I know it sounds crazy, but I think it's worth a try. Think about it, Emma. What if you could see the world from a different perspective? Wouldn't you like to experience what it's like to be someone else?"
Emma stopped laughing, considering his words. She looked at him, her blue eyes searching his face. "You're serious about this, aren't you?"
He nodded, keeping his gaze steady on hers. "I am."
A thoughtful silence filled the room as Emma took in his words. Ben could see the gears turning in her head. He knew her well enough to know that she was considering it. Emma was always up for a challenge, always ready to try new things. That was one of the things he admired about her.
Finally, she sighed, shaking her head in disbelief. "Okay, let's say I believe you. And let's say I'm willing to give this a shot. Why would you want to swap bodies with me?"
Ben considered his words carefully. "To see the world differently. You’re popular, you’re cool, people look up to you, and you’re, you know…” he gestured at her.
She giggled. “Hot?”
“I was going to say ‘a girl’, but yeah, that too.”
She punched him on the arm. “Alright Cinderella! You better not ruin this view when I get back to it!” She looked down at herself, stretching her arms out.
Ben exhaled, relief washing over him. He grinned at Emma, excitement buzzing in his veins.
Emma downloaded the app on her phone, following Ben's instructions, then they both opened it and Ben initiated the request to swap. Emma accepted it with a quick tap on her screen.
Their screens flickered for a moment.
“I don’t think anything happened.” said Emma, unsurprised. “God you almost had me going there!”
“No, no, wait” said Ben. “I can feel something.”
His hands and feet had begun tingling, and his stomach felt like it was dropping. Down. Away.
Ben blinked and found himself sitting on the other side of the room.
His phone buzzed. “Swap successful. Enjoy your NewYou!"
Ben gasped and looked down at his hands. Delicate fingers, manicured nails instead of his usual large and bony hands.
"Oh my god," Ben whispered, looking up at Emma. His voice was higher, softer. Emma's voice. His heart raced as he reached up to touch his - no, her - face, feeling the smooth skin beneath his fingers.
He looked at Emma, who seemed to be going through a similar realization. Her eyes were wide, her mouth agape as she looked down at her - his - hands.
"Ben," she said, her voice lower, rougher. Ben's voice. "I think it worked."
Ben could only nod, his mind racing with the possibilities. They had done it. They had swapped bodies! And… easily! How was this not in every media outlet? How was this not all over the internet?!
Still clutching the phone in his dainty hands, Ben stood up, surprised by the effort it took. He looked down. The ground seemed closer than normal, as if he wasn’t standing up at all. He gingerly touched the soft fabric of the sweater he was wearing, and the gentle curve of the waist beneath it. He felt light, free, different. He very deliberately didn’t touch the breasts that were now hanging on his chest, not when their former owner was standing just a few feet away, though he felt them jiggle as he moved.
Emma, standing awkwardly in Ben’s body, snorted. “This is so weird,” she grumbled, adjusting the baggy jeans. She tried to cross her arms, a habit of hers, but found the movement unfamiliar and slightly awkward.
Then, she turned to look at her own body, now occupied by Ben. She raised a hand and brushed her own hair out of her former eyes.
Seeing her own face from an outsider's perspective was strange, almost surreal. She frowned as she gently tracing the contours of the face she knew so well, yet was now so alien. The long lashes, the soft lips, the small mole on the left cheek - everything was the same and yet, so very different.
"Wow," she breathed out, her voice deep and rough. "I didn't realize... I mean, you're… I'm… pretty."
Ben blushed, a pink hue appearing on his - no, her - fair cheeks. It was a strange sensation. His skin tingling, heart pounding in a chest that was no longer his.
“Yeah, you… I mean, I…” Ben stammered, flustered and unsure how to respond to that. “This is a lot to take in.”
There was a pause as the reality of their situation sunk in. They had swapped bodies, an impossible event made reality by an obscure app and a moment of daring curiosity.
"Let's just... take it slow, okay?" Emma finally broke the silence. She gestured to a mirror on the wall. "Maybe we should start with getting used to our new appearances."
And so they did. They stood in front of the mirror, marveling at the reflection that looked back at them. There was Ben, there was Emma. But the reflection of Ben wasn’t where it should be – it was two feet to the left of where it should be! Weird.
Just as they were starting to make peace with their reflections, a knock echoed through the room, followed by a muffled voice. "Emma, honey, dinner's ready."
Emma's - or rather, Ben's - eyes widened. He quickly turned to look at Emma, panic flickering in his gaze. She seemed calmer. “Well, you wanted to experience being me!”
"I know," he said, trying to steady his racing heart. "I have to go. I can do this. I can pretend to be you for one evening."
Emma was silent for a moment, her lips pressed into a thin line as she considered his words. "Just... be careful, okay?" she finally said, her tone serious. "And text me if anything happens."
Ben nodded, giving her a small, assuring smile. Then, with a last look at the mirror, he left the room, his new ponytail bouncing with each step he took.
Dinner was a rollercoaster of emotions for Ben. Emma's parents were lovely people, he found, even if her younger brother was quite the pest. He did his best to act like Emma, mimicking her speech patterns and mannerisms. He laughed at her father's puns and helped her mother serve the salad. It was going well until dessert.
As he was reaching for a piece of pie, his sleeve snagged the bowl of cream, sending it splattering all over himself and the tablecloth. A gasp ran through the room, and Ben felt his cheeks heat up in embarrassment.
"Oh, Emma!" her mother exclaimed, rushing to wipe the mess with a napkin. "That's not like you at all."
Ben blushed and apologized.
“I guess you better go have a shower and clean up. Don’t worry about it down here.”
Oh.
Oh no.
_______________________
Meanwhile, back at Ben's place, Emma was trying to navigate Ben's life. His parents were nice enough, though they asked a lot of questions about school and her - Ben's - future. She smiled and nodded, providing vague answers when she could. She even played a round of video games with Ben's 13 year old sister. It was a novelty for Emma, who had never been much of a gamer. But, it was nice, she thought. Different, but nice.
They were loading a new level when her phone buzzed. A message from ‘Emma’.
“Hey, so, um, I spilled some pie all over you.”
For some reason Ben had also sent a picture. It was an angled selfie, showed Emma’s body standing alone in her room, barefoot, clothes askew, and still covered in pie
“Should I- change and shower?”
Emma paused. Obviously? She wasn’t sure when he expected, if they were going to be each other for a few days. Was he never going to use the toilet too?
She texted back a “Yes, of course. Don’t wet my hair.” and got back to the game.
_____________________
As the first tendrils of sunlight began to stretch across the sky, Ben, in Emma's lithe frame, and Emma, housed within Ben's gangly body, stood side by side at the bus stop. The air was crisp, carrying the faint smell of dew-soaked grass.
They stood in silence, each immersed in the thoughts of their extraordinary circumstance.
"Your brother is quite the early bird, isn't he?" Ben finally broke the silence, his voice soft with Emma's familiar lilt. He was fiddling with a thread on Emma's pink scarf, not meeting her gaze. “He woke me up by diving on top of me at six in the morning.”
Emma giggled, the sound strange in the deeper resonance of Ben's voice. "Yeah, he'll do that. Any trouble after the pie incident?"
Ben blushed. “I swear I didn’t look at anything I shouldn’t have!”
Emma giggled again. “Well you better have cleaned everything you should have! I certainly enjoyed not having to sit down to pee this morning.”
“You mean you’ve seen-”
“What did you expect, you dolt! I’m inside your body!” Emma spread her arms wide, as if showing him who she was.
“It gets bigger…” Ben muttered
“Oh, I know”
“Wait- what–”
Their casual conversation was interrupted by the arrival of their school bus. The familiar yellow behemoth lumbered into view, its tires crunching on the gravel. They climbed aboard, momentarily parting ways to their respective seats.
No sooner had they settled down than a chorus of high-pitched squeals rang through the bus. A gaggle of Emma's friends, a vibrant assortment of high school girls, were waving energetically at Ben.
"Emma! Get over here!" they called out voices bubbling with enthusiasm.
Ben shot Emma a puzzled look, to which she responded with a smirk. "Go on. It will be good for you."
With a sigh that was equal parts resignation and nervous excitement, Ben rose and joined Emma's friends. Their conversation was a whirlwind of girlish chatter, an onslaught of cheerleading stories, crush confessions, and fashion advice. Soon, one of the girls produced a top from a bags, a beautiful, silky number that made Ben's new heart flutter.
"This would look SO good on you, Emma!" one of them gushed, holding the top up against Ben's body. "The color would really bring out your eyes!"
Feeling a warm blush creep up his cheeks, Ben nodded and thanked them, feeling an odd pang of guilt for the deceit. He was not Emma, and yet, he was playing her part, basking in her social glow. A small part of him felt like a fraud. Plus the shirt was… rather revealing. It would show off his cleavage and belly button at once. He tried to turn his head to see what Emma thought, but he couldn’t get a good look.
“I wanted to give it to you for your date with Jake” the girl continued, unabated. “He’s got a thing for midriffs, Jess told me that when she was dating him, he…”
From the back of the bus, Emma was watching the entire spectacle unfold. An unfamiliar twinge of jealousy gnawed at her as she saw Ben - or rather, her body - being swept away into the mirthful chatter of her friends. She was left there, alone, in Ben's body, a spectator in her own life.
But amidst that feeling, there was also a sense of intrigue. Observing Ben navigate the complexities of her social life was enlightening, to say the least. He wasn’t being especially suave, but her friends seemed so understanding and patient with him- her- she should really appreciate them more. An off day? Nobody was batting an eye.
As the bus pulled up at the school, Ben was swept away with Emma’s friends, while Emma followed slowly behind, left alone by everyone. Ben was just beginning to get comfortable with their cheerful chatter when a friend, Amanda, suddenly leaned in and squinted at Ben's face.
"Oh my god, Emma!" Amanda gasped, covering her mouth with one hand. "What happened to your makeup? It looks like a two-year-old attacked your face with crayons."
The group of girls burst into laughter, their high-pitched giggles echoing around the bus. Ben felt heat rushing to his cheeks. He’d tried his hand at a bit of powder that morning, but he didn’t think it was that bad. He looked at Emma, who gave him an empathetic shrug. The world of makeup was a mystery to Ben, a chapter in the book of femininity he had never even flipped through.
"Well, we can't let you go around looking like that," Amanda declared, standing up. She took Ben's hand and started pulling him towards the bathroom. "We need to fix this, now."
As Amanda began to work on Ben's face, he watched his reflection in the mirror. It was surreal, seeing Amanda's hands move across his face, feeling the soft brush against his skin, but not recognizing the face that stared back at him. It was a face he was familiar with - Emma's face - but it was also a stranger's.
"Trust me, you'll look so much better after this," Amanda chatted away, her voice a comforting hum in the background. Ben listened to her and the other girls as they talked about the latest school gossip, their plans for the weekend, the new teacher everyone was crushing on.
The chatter was mundane, the kind of stuff Ben usually tuned out, but in this setting, it felt oddly intimate. He felt like he was getting a peek into a secret world, a glimpse into the life Emma led when he wasn't around.
Eventually, Amanda stepped back, her work done. Ben looked at himself in the mirror. His eyes were subtly lined, his cheeks flushed with a rosy blush, his lips a soft pink. He looked like Emma. And, strangely enough, he felt like Emma too.
"There," Amanda said, beaming at him. "Much better."
Ben blinked at his reflection, a smile slowly creeping onto his face. This was definitely going to take some getting used to. But for now, he was just Emma, living her life, one makeup touch-up at a time.
_______________________
Emma, inside Ben's body, could not escape the sensation of strangeness that filled her every step. Even the simple act of walking was different, the additional height and strength both a wonder and a challenge. She found herself bumping into things more often, her perception of her body's dimensions no longer accurate.
The bell for gym class rang just as she was getting a hang of her new stride. She watched as Ben was dragged off into the women’s change room by her classmates, and she sighed and headed into the boys. It was loud and smelly, but she was able to change undisturbed, her new bony fingers fumbling over the unfamiliar fabric of Ben's gym kit.
Basketball was the chosen game of the day, a game Emma had always played, but never particularly excelled at. She was too short to really have much of a chance. But as she stepped onto the court in Ben's body, she felt a surge of energy she had never experienced before. Her fingers closed around the leather ball with a certainty that surprised her. She could even hold the ball in one hand!
The first few minutes of the game were a chaos of movement. Emma watched her classmates as they moved across the court, noting their strategies, the ways they used their bodies to block or pass. Her own body responded in ways she wasn't expecting. It was taller, faster, stronger. Who knew that Ben’s body contained such power?
To her amazement, she found herself actually enjoying the game. She could shoot, pass and defend with ease. Her body moved with a fluidity she had never known, each move instinctive, as though she had been playing this way for years. The ball seemed to follow her command, the hoop an easy target.
As the game continued, Emma became more and more confident. She dodged her opponents, her new height providing her with an advantage she had never had before. She was making shots that she would have only dreamed of making in her own body.
She looked at the scoreboard. Her team was in the lead, and she had been a significant contributor. Her eyes met Ben's - or rather her own - standing on the sidelines, and she saw a look of surprise. Emma smiled, a small sense of pride washing over her.
When the final whistle blew, her team had won, and she found herself surrounded by her cheering classmates, guys slapping on the back, rustling her hair, making her feel proud! They would never do that to her in her own body! It was like all of the distance that she usually felt between herself and guys had disappeared, there was no awkwardness in the touching, no creepiness in the looks. They just slapped her on the back and cheered.
Emma realized then, under the bright lights of the gym, that she was living a day in Ben's shoes that she would never have experienced in her own body. For the first time, she felt a strange sense of gratitude towards the body swap. It wasn't all bad, after all.
__________________
Meanwhile, Ben had been navigating through the labyrinth of Emma's school day, filled with its own unique challenges. There was an increased attention to detail, an amplified sensitivity to social cues, an intricate dance of interactions that he was not familiar with.
When it was time for gym class, something that Ben had always dreaded, he found himself lucky enough to be on the sidelines, designated as one of the scorekeepers.
As the game started, his attention was drawn to his own body on the basketball court. Emma actually seemed to be enjoying herself! And not just enjoying herself, she was good! He watched in awe as she swiped the ball from an opposing player with a quickness he didn’t know his body was capable of, and then sprinted down the court before passing the ball hard and fast to a teammate who scored.
She was good, better than good. In his body, Emma was making shots that neither of them could have done in their own forms. What gives! She was moving with a confidence, a certain ease that was strangely mesmerizing.
He found himself clapping along with the others, cheering each time she scored a point. It was surreal, watching his own body perform so well under someone else's control. At the same time, he felt a kind of jealousy. How come he couldn’t play like that? A team mate whooped as Emma scored again, and high fived his old body as they ran up the court together. Ben didn’t even know that guy’s name. Why couldn’t he be popular like that?
As the final whistle blew, he watched as Emma's team celebrated their victory, watched as his own body was surrounded by cheering classmates, hugged and slapped and lifted up in the air. Ben clapped quietly, feeling strange, but when Emma jogged passed, she beamed at him, and he couldn’t help but smile.
He followed Emma’s friends back into the girls’ change room, and couldn’t help but chuckle as they chatted about “Ben's” newfound skills. One of them even wondered if he was single!
What the hell was going on?
______________________________________
The lunchroom was buzzing with activity as Ben took a seat at Emma's usual spot, surrounded by her friends. He got a salad. That’s the kind of thing Emma usually ate, right?
He found himself laughing and giggling with the other girls. Something inside him had relaxed a bit and he was having fun exaggerating his body’s exploits with them.
“Oh yeah” Ben said, “And his arms are super muscular!”
One of the girls laughed. “Oh shove off it, Emma! Now you’re just being silly!”
“But speaking of big arms…” another girl said with a grin.
Ben looked up, expecting to see Emma in his body. Instead, he was confronted by Jake, a smug, condescending grin on his face.
"Hey Emma," Jake greeted, seeming to dazzle everyone else at the table. "Looking gorgeous today, as usual."
Ben blushed. This was so weird.
“Uh…”
“So, I was thinking after our date on Thursday we could head up to the river. My Dad said I could borrow his BMW for the night. What do you reckon?”
Ewwwww god no! Ben was in no place to be thinking about that. He’d only been a girl for 12 hours or so!
“Uh, no, no thank you.”
“Huh? Why not?”
Ben looked down at himself. His lithe body, bare legs, perfect skin. Fuck Jake, he didn’t need to justify himself. The whole point of becoming Emma was so that he could feel what it was like to be socially powerful, daring, bold! And… he could do whatever he wanted!
“Because.. you’re a brainless moron.” he said, a slight smirk coming onto his face. Emma’s face! He was doing it! Emma was dumping Jake!
Jake’s mouth opened slightly, and he frowned, more confused than upset.
“Yeah, that’s right. You’re a bully. You’re mean. You’re an ugly, flat footed, stupid, neanderthal, um… dumb… just awful person!”
“What? But I thought-”
“And everybody hates you.” he added, just for good measure.
Jake clenched his jaw.
“So fuck off, actually, yeah fuck off back to whatever sewer you crawled out of. I never want to see you again!”
Ben smirked. That felt good.
Jake's face paled, shock evident in his blue eyes. There was an agonizingly long pause as the words hung in the air, the cafeteria around them a blur of stares and whispers.
With that, he turned and stormed out of the room, leaving Ben at the center of attention at the table, the girls still wide-eyed and silent.
Ben’s smug grin faded as he looked around the table, seeing the shock on the faces of Emma's friends. Surely it wasn’t that bad? Jake was an awful human. Emma would get over it. Besides, it was in her best interests not to end up with somebody like that.
These thoughts did little to help stop the sinking feeling in Ben’s stomach as he saw Emma gaping at him from across the room. She started to storm over to him, then stopped, seeming to change her mind, and scampered out of the room after Jake, tears in her eyes.
Ah.
Yes.
That was kind of mean. Just not to Jake.
To Be Continued.
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In a dystopian world of government stealth control, agents Jacob and Gordon are tasked to protect Ashley, a bubbly college student, on her vacation to an island resort. Jacob and Gordon bicker with, control, and find themselves overcome by the roles they must take on. This story features a varying third person POV, male to female possession / stealth control, a vague kidnapping plot, and two tough men being forced by circumstances to inhabit soft, female bodies.
In the windowless confines of a government facility buried deep beneath Washington D.C., two men sat opposite each other in an unadorned room, the light from the single overhead bulb pooling around them. One was young, his buzzcut hair making him appear younger than his 28 years, and his brown eyes shone with defiance. The other was older, with the lined face of someone used to bearing weighty responsibility. His blue eyes held a stern, almost desperate look. These men were Jacob and Gordon, agents of the clandestine organization known as the CBI.
The room hummed with a quiet tension as a holographic display flickered to life between them. Images of a young woman with brown hair flashed on the screen. She looked bright, bubbly even, her smile filled with the naiveté of the privileged. Her name, the display read, was Ashley. Her father was a big shot in the government, and she was their next assignment.
Jacob leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest as his gaze darted from the hologram to his partner. The disdain in his voice was almost tangible. "So, we're playing babysitters now?"
Gordon's stern gaze remained fixed on the display. "We're protecting an innocent life, Jacob," he said, his voice tight. "An innocent life that, if lost, could plunge the country into chaos."
Jacob scoffed, unconvinced. "The rich girl's daddy has a lot of enemies, huh?"
"More than you'd think." Gordon looked at Jacob, his eyes betraying his seriousness. "This isn't just about Ashley. It's about national security."
The display changed to the image of a blonde-haired woman named Sherry and an Asian woman, labelled Barbara. "They're friends of Ashley’s. We’ve known Sherry for quite some time, but Barbara We believe Barbara is new to us. We haven’t been able to verify her identity."
Jacob's eyebrows shot up. "And we're supposed to do what? Use stealth control and become sorority sisters?"
Gordon ignored Jacob's sarcasm. "We're to protect Ashley, and if necessary, neutralize Barbara."
“Neutralize Barbara, Jesus Christ. We don’t even know who she is yet. She could just be some college student!”
There was a moment of silence as both men took in the gravity of their mission. Gordon continued, "We're to use the stealth control, as needed, to keep an eye on the girls without disrupting their holiday plans. We will be meeting them before the mission, so they will know who we are, and that we are there to keep them safe.”
Jacob looked like he'd swallowed a lemon. "Why am I always the one getting dressed in women's clothes?"
Gordon shrugged and gave a slight smile, "I can’t speak to your previous experience their, Jacob. Perhaps you make a good girl"
“Yeah, fuck you.” Jacob laughed, “We’ll see what happens.”
As the room plunged into darkness, both men rose from their chairs. They had a mission to accomplish. They were CBI agents; their personal feelings had no room in the grand scheme of things.
They were the unseen guardians, ready to step into the lives of the oblivious to keep them safe. It was their duty. Their burden.
“Hey, if you take over Sherry, will you show me her tits?”
It was just another day in the CBI.
______________________________________________
The private jet was an opulent capsule of wealth and privilege, humming smoothly above the clouds. Inside, Jacob and Gordon sat across from Ashley and Sherry. The air was thick with tension as they divulged the secrets of the CBI and their stealth control technology.
Jacob, lounging in his plush seat, was narrating a previous mission with a cheeky grin. "It was a nunnery in Budapest, you see," he began, "I had to infiltrate the sisterhood, become one of them. You wouldn't believe the shenanigans I got up to with those rosary beads."
Gordon winced at Jacob's choice of words. The older man knew that his partner's irreverence towards their technology would not help soothe the girls' anxiety. He cast an apologetic glance at Ashley, who was listening with wide-eyed disbelief.
Sherry, however, was less tolerant. The blonde girl crossed her arms, her blue eyes flashing with anger. "Are you telling me," she began, her voice icy, "that you could just take over one of us without us even knowing? That's... that's gross! It's disgusting!"
Jacob merely shrugged, not at all perturbed by her outrage. "It's the job," he said, leaning back into his seat. "It's not personal. And it's only if necessary. It's all about protecting your dear friend Ashley here."
Ashley looked terrified at the thought of her body being taken over. Sherry, on the other hand, looked downright furious.
Gordon, sensing the escalating tension, decided to intervene. "It's a measure of last resort, ladies," he assured them. "We would not use this technology unless it's absolutely necessary."
"But how can you make that decision?" Sherry protested, her voice shaking. "What gives you the right to use our bodies like... like empty vessels?"
Gordon's gaze hardened. "It's our duty, Miss. We're here to protect Ashley and you from potential harm."
"What potential harm?" Ashley asked, her voice tiny. "We're just on college break."
Gordon's glance slid to Jacob, then back to the girls. "We have reason to believe that one of your college mates, Barbara, might not be who she claims to be."
Sherry's nostrils flared, her sharp eyes narrowing on Jacob. "You probably enjoy this, don't you?" she accused, her voice dripping with contempt. "You get your kicks out of wearing women's bodies. Must be a real ego trip."
Jacob looked unfazed by her accusations. Instead, he let out a small chuckle, leaning back against his seat. "You know, Sherry," he said, his voice smooth as silk, "You really should learn to relax. Life's too short to always be angry."
Sherry's retort was cut off as the plane jostled slightly, a patch of turbulence causing everyone to grip their armrests. The distraction provided Jacob with the perfect cover. His hand moved deftly, slipping a small device from his pocket. With a swift, practised movement, he reached out under the guise of steadying Sherry and attached the receiver to the back of her neck.
She gave him a sour look, completely oblivious to the device now nestled under her blonde curls. "Keep your hands to yourself," she snapped, swatting his arm away.
Jacob simply raised his hands in a show of innocence, grinning like a Cheshire cat. "Just making sure you're safe, princess."
Gordon shot Jacob a stern look, shaking his head slightly. The younger agent was playing a dangerous game, but Gordon knew they didn't have the luxury of time. For now, they had to trust Jacob's instincts, as reckless as they seemed.
As the jet soared above the clouds, a game of cat and mouse was beginning to take shape. Unbeknownst to her, Sherry was now at the mercy of a technology that made her body an unwitting pawn in a high-stakes game. And all around her, eyes watched, ready to protect, and if necessary, to control.
Jacob fished out the small, innocuous-looking device from his pocket. It was the transmitter, the critical piece of technology that could bridge minds. "Now, ladies," he began, holding up the device for them to see, "this little gadget here is the key. It links me to the receiver, allowing me to 'borrow' the body."
Sherry scoffed, her face flushing with anger. "You mean 'hijack,' not 'borrow.'"
Jacob merely shrugged, the corners of his mouth pulling into a wry grin. "Potato, potahto."
"And you're planning to use it on me?" Sherry spat, her fingers curling into tight fists. “No way I’ll let you put one of those receiver things on me.”
"Why, Sherry, it's almost like you're worried." Jacob teased, his grin broadening. "I promise you won't feel a thing. One moment you'll be here, the next you'll be... well, still here. But with better decision-making skills."
Gordon frowned at Jacob's flippant remark, but remained silent. Ashley, on the other hand, was growing more anxious by the second. Her wide eyes darted between Jacob, Sherry, and the device in Jacob's hand.
"But... how can you ensure she won't realize?" Ashley asked, her voice quivering.
Jacob leaned back, clasping the transmitter device in his hand. "That's the beauty of it, Ashley. The person being controlled won't even realize they're not making their own decisions. They just think they're having a particularly decisive day."
Ashley gulped, her gaze drifting towards Sherry, who was now standing, her eyes blazing with fury. "And what if I refuse?" Sherry snapped, her voice echoing in the confined space of the jet.
Jacob met her gaze unflinchingly, his grin never wavering. "Well, then, princess," he said, his voice deceptively soft, "you can consider this a lesson in diplomacy. Or better yet, consider it... an adventure."
"An adventure?" Sherry scoffed, her eyes alight with a mixture of anger and defiance. "I think you'll find, Jacob, that I'm not as easy to control as you think."
Jacob's grin widened, his gaze meeting hers. "Is that a challenge, princess?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. His eyes gleamed with anticipation at the thought of finally putting the arrogant heiress in her place.
Beside Sherry, Ashley's brow furrowed in thought. "But... what does it feel like?" she asked quietly. "Being controlled, I mean."
Jacob shifted his attention to Ashley, his grin softening into a gentler smile. "It's like being a passenger in your own body, Ashley," he explained. "You feel everything, you see everything. But the decisions, the actions, they're all made by someone else. And the best part? You won't even realize it's not you."
Ashley chewed on her lower lip, her brown eyes filled with a mix of fear and curiosity. "So... it's like sleepwalking?"
"In a way," Gordon chimed in, his voice steady. "You're aware of everything happening, but it's like you're on autopilot."
"But I can resist, right?" Sherry cut in, her voice filled with determination. "I mean, it's my body. I should be able to fight it."
Jacob chuckled, the sound echoing through the private jet. "I'd love to see you try, princess," he said, his tone filled with a challenge. He was relishing the opportunity to use the stealth control technology, and even more so, the opportunity to take Sherry down a notch.
Gordon watched the exchange quietly. There was an undeniable tension building between Jacob and Sherry, a silent power struggle that hung heavy in the air. As for Ashley, she was a mixture of curiosity and fear. But Gordon knew they didn't have the luxury of choice anymore. A game was set to begin, and whether they liked it or not, they were all players.
Jacob lifted the transmitter, his fingers curling around the device. His eyes locked onto Sherry's defiant glare, a predatory grin playing on his lips.
"Let's put your theory to the test, shall we, princess?" His voice was low and taunting, as he pressed a button on the transmitter.
The moment the button was pressed, Jacob's body slumped back in his chair, eyes closed, and a blank expression on his face. Meanwhile, the effect on Sherry was immediate and startling.
Sherry's eyes glazed over for a moment, before a confident, almost mischievous smirk spread across her face - a mirror image of Jacob's. Her posture changed subtly, carrying the swagger and bravado that Jacob exhibited. Her hands reached out, grabbing onto the arms of her chair, and then she was pushing herself up to a standing position.
Inside Sherry's body, Jacob was reveling in his control. His – or rather, Sherry's – hands spread wide as he straightened her back, pushing her shoulders back with an exaggerated flourish. He could feel the luxurious fabric of her clothes, the power of her healthy, young muscles. Sherry's outraged expression had been replaced by his confident smirk, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of his delight and daring.
"This," he made Sherry's voice purr, gesturing to her body with her hands, "is rather impressive."
Across the aisle, Ashley's eyes went wide with shock, her gaze darting between Sherry's animated form and Jacob's lifeless body. She was silent, her hand hovering uncertainly over her mouth as she grappled with the reality of what she was witnessing.
Gordon's face was a stoic mask, his eyes moving between his own lifeless partner and the heiress, now dancing like a puppet on a string. He noted the smug satisfaction radiating off of 'Sherry', and knew Jacob was thoroughly enjoying himself.
A strange sensation gripped Sherry, but it was not an unpleasant one. It was like waking up in the morning and not quite remembering your dream, but knowing it had been delightful. She found herself giggling, her hands drifting down to the hem of her dress and tugging it experimentally. It was her decision, she thought. Why else would she do it?
She was aware of the luxurious fabric sliding between her fingers, of the way it hugged her figure. She was not usually one to admire herself so openly, yet now she found herself doing just that. She glanced down at her designer heels and in the blink of an eye, decided they were far too constricting. With a small huff, she kicked them off, the shoes sailing through the air with a satisfying arc before landing with a muffled thud.
Her gaze returned to her bare feet, her pedicured toes wriggling against the plush carpet of the jet. The sensation was... liberating. She looked at her own body, her hands exploring the curves of her form, the feeling so natural it was as if she had decided to do it herself.
Yet somewhere, a small part of her mind fluttered with uncertainty. She remembered Jacob's promise, his taunting grin, the way his body had slumped lifelessly. Was it possible that she wasn't in control, that she was just a passenger in her own body?
She pushed the thought away immediately. She was Sherry, the woman who bowed to no one, the woman who was always in control. She was not going to be manipulated by a man who saw her as nothing more than a plaything.
She cupped her breasts with a smirk. Yep, these were hers all right.
The moment was interrupted by Gordon's stern voice, "Alright, Jacob. That's enough. Don't embarrass the girl."
Jacob's smirk, painted on Sherry's face, deepened at his partner's reprimand. With a dramatic bow, he surrendered the controls. The moment he disengaged the transmitter, his own body jerked back to life, a yawn escaping his lips as though he had just woken from a nap.
At the same time, Sherry's body froze, the audacious smirk slowly melting from her face. She blinked, her eyes returning to their usual fierce determination. She looked around, her brows furrowed in confusion, as if waking from an odd dream.
Ashley rushed over to her friend, concern etched into her face. "Sherry, are you okay? What did it feel like?"
Sherry frowned, her hands running down her dress, straightening it out. "What do you mean, 'what did it feel like'? I was just...having a bit of fun, that's all."
"But... but Jacob was controlling you," Ashley stammered, glancing between her friend and the CBI agent. "Didn't you feel that?"
"Nonsense," Sherry huffed, a flush creeping onto her cheeks. "No one controls me. Not even Jacob."
Gordon watched the exchange in silence. If Jacob's demonstration had taught them anything, it was the power and subtlety of the stealth control technology. Even now, Sherry refused to believe she'd been manipulated.
Jacob, meanwhile, stretched in his seat, a satisfied smirk still dancing on his lips. He'd enjoyed the ride more than he'd anticipated, and Sherry's continued denial was just icing on the cake. Despite the underlying seriousness of their mission, he found himself looking forward to what would come next.
It didn’t have to be him that was stuck inside that gorgeous female body, after all.
As the private jet descended onto the private airstrip of the island resort, Ashley and Sherry gazed out the window, their eyes filled with anticipation. From above, the resort looked like a paradise. An ocean of turquoise blue lapped against white sandy beaches, while luxurious villas lay dotted amidst lush, tropical greenery.
Once they'd landed, Ashley and Sherry, fueled by excitement, hurried off the jet and disappeared into the resort. They were seemingly unaffected by the strange events on the plane, or perhaps just choosing to ignore them for now.
With the girls out of earshot, Gordon turned to Jacob. His stern gaze bore into his partner's smirking face. "What you did up there was inappropriate," he chided, his voice low but firm. "This isn't a game, Jacob. We're here to protect Ashley and Sherry, not to make fools of them."
Jacob's smirk didn't waver. If anything, it grew wider. "Oh, I'm well aware of that, Gordon," he said casually. "But I also think it's important to enjoy your work, don't you?"
Gordon sighed, rubbing his temples. "This is serious, Jacob. We have a mission."
Jacob rolled his eyes. "Yes, I know. All serious and no play. But tell you what, Gordon. Next time, you get to do the controlling. I'd love to see what 'fun' you'd have with Sherry."
Gordon's face blanched at the thought. "Jacob, I..."
Jacob cut him off with a dismissive wave of his hand. "No arguments, Gordon. We'll see how much of a straight shooter you are then."
As Jacob walked off towards the resort, leaving a dumbstruck Gordon behind, he couldn't help but chuckle. His mission had just gotten a whole lot more interesting.
___________________________
Inside one of the private villas in the resort, Gordon and Jacob had swiftly set up their temporary base of operations. Surveillance equipment was neatly arranged across the tables, while a screen displayed the layout of the entire resort. Here, they would keep a close eye on Ashley and Sherry while blending into the luxurious backdrop of their surroundings.
The evening brought with it a gentle breeze that swept across the balcony of the villa, rustling the leaves of the palm trees outside. Gordon found himself standing there, staring out into the approaching dusk, his thoughts burdened by the prospect of the task ahead.
Jacob joined him, his posture relaxed, a glass of some exotic drink in his hand. "Nervous, Gordon?" he asked, a teasing edge to his voice.
Gordon shot him a sidelong glance. "I just... I don't agree with this method. It feels wrong."
Jacob chuckled, taking a sip from his drink. "You'll get used to it. Besides, we're doing this for Ashley, remember? So she can enjoy her break with her friends, oblivious to the danger lurking around."
Gordon sighed, a resigned expression crossing his face. "Fine. I'll take over Sherry. But you're tailing us in your own body. No more 'fun' at their expense."
Jacob laughed, raising his glass. "Deal. And don't worry, Gordon. I'll be the perfect, invisible shadow. No antics, promise."
The decision to initiate the stealth control came swiftly and without ceremony. In the privacy of their villa, Gordon held the small transmitter, a device no larger than a pocket watch, and connected to the receiver implanted on Sherry. The world swirled around him for a moment, and then, darkness.
When he woke up, he found himself seated at the resort bar, ambient music softly playing in the background. He was now in Sherry's body, her senses his, her world his to navigate. As he came to terms with the transfer, he took a moment to observe his new surroundings.
The air was filled with the scent of exotic perfumes and tropical drinks, mixed with the salty tang of the nearby ocean. His ears picked up the faint laughter and chatter of other guests, the clinking of glasses, and the distant crash of waves against the shore. It was a sensory overload compared to the quiet solitude of the CBI headquarters, and Gordon had to suppress a wave of vertigo.
Cautiously, he glanced down at his new body. It was strange to see Sherry's slender fingers resting on the bar counter instead of his own callused hands. He could feel the cool, polished surface of the bar under these fingers, the smooth grain of the wood distinct and real.
Sherry was dressed for a night on the town, in a little black dress that shimmered under the warm lighting of the bar. He could feel the soft fabric against his skin, the hemline resting high on his - no, Sherry's - thighs. The sensation of the strappy heels on his feet was new and uncomfortable. It felt like he was walking on stilts, precariously balancing with every step.
Just as he was grappling with the surreal experience, Ashley approached. She was dressed equally stylish, a bright smile on her face as she took the seat next to Sherry's body. "Sherry, you were right! This place is fabulous!"
Keeping up appearances, Gordon forced a smile, trying to mimic Sherry's mean-spirited charm. "Told you, didn't I? Only the best for us, Ash."
Gordon, having assumed the role of Sherry, felt a rush of panic as Ashley, buzzing with youthful exuberance, grabbed his - her - hand. "Let's dance, Sherry!" she said, her voice brimming with enthusiasm. Before Gordon could utter a word of protest, Ashley had pulled him onto the dance floor. The pulsing beat of the music seemed to engulf him, the rhythm a foreign language his body did not speak.
He found himself in the midst of a swirling kaleidoscope of colors, the flashing strobe lights illuminating the dance floor in a frenetic array. The energy was contagious, the crowd swaying and moving as one, but Gordon felt like an intruder in this world. He was an agent, trained to navigate the darkest corners of the world, not a dance floor.
Despite his discomfort, Gordon pushed aside his reservations, trying to mimic the moves of the people around him. He attempted to keep a safe distance from Ashley, but she seemed keen on dancing more intimately, matching the rhythm and closeness of the other dancers.
The heels were another challenge altogether. With each step, he could feel his balance falter. It was a stark contrast to his usual surefootedness in sturdy combat boots. He cursed Jacob under his breath - this was a world he was unprepared for.
To add to his mounting discomfort, the hemline of Sherry's dress seemed determined to defy gravity, riding up with every movement he made. It was a battle to keep pulling it down, all the while trying to maintain his balance and continue the dance.
"I didn't know you were so shy, Sherry," Ashley giggled, seemingly oblivious to his discomfort. "You usually take the lead."
Gordon laughed, hoping it sounded genuine. "I guess, it's just one of those nights, Ash. Let's just enjoy the music, shall we?"
As the music blared and bodies swayed around him, Gordon realized that he was not just in uncharted territory. He was on a battlefield, far removed from his comfort zone. But, as with all battles, he would adapt and overcome.
As the tempo of the music began to slow down, two men approached them. One was a tall, dark-haired man with a charming smile, while the other had sandy hair and blue eyes that held a hint of mischief. Ashley, ever the social butterfly, eagerly introduced herself and, in a matter of moments, was whisked away to the other side of the dance floor by the dark-haired stranger.
Gordon, still in Sherry's body, was left alone with the sandy-haired man. He was named Chris, a name Gordon committed to memory in case it was needed later. As the man extended his hand to him, inviting him for the slow dance, Gordon felt a pang of unease. This was far from the battlefields he was used to.
As Chris pulled him closer, Gordon felt the distinct discomfort of being in an attractive woman's body. The warmth of the man’s body was uncomfortably intimate, his hand resting at the small of Sherry's back felt invasive, and the smell of his aftershave was too potent, a little too sweet for Gordon's liking.
Gordon forced a smile, playing along with the dance, his body moving in sync with the rhythm. He kept reminding himself that this was all a part of the mission, a necessary discomfort for the greater cause. But, as Chris's hand moved a little too low for Gordon's comfort, he found himself fighting a blush of embarrassment. The feeling was both foreign and unsettling.
"Sherry, you're quite the dancer," Chris murmured, his gaze appreciative, as Gordon tottered around awkwardly in Sherry’s heels.
"I bet you say that to all your girlfriends." Gordon replied in his high pitched voice, trying his best to emulate Sherry's sharp and sassy tone.
__________________
Jacob sat across the room, sipping on a glass of whiskey as he observed the dance floor. His trained eyes scanned the crowd, on the lookout for any signs of danger. But, his attention inevitably strayed to the sight of Gordon, in Sherry's body, tottering about like a newborn lamb on the dance floor.
A smirk spread across Jacob's face, his brown eyes twinkling with amusement. The usually stern and upstanding Gordon was now attempting to navigate the world of high heels and mini dresses, and from Jacob's perspective, it was a sight to behold.
He watched as Gordon, or rather Sherry, swayed gently to the rhythm of the music, an awkward contrast to the fluid movements of his dancing partner. Jacob stifled a laugh as he saw Gordon struggling to pull the dress down, only for it to rebelliously creep back up.
His gaze then slid to Sherry's legs, an aspect of her appearance he hadn't previously given much thought. The dress, although a source of discomfort for Gordon, did accentuate the length and graceful curve of her legs. A pang of appreciation and regret hit Jacob simultaneously. He couldn't deny that Sherry's body was appealing, yet it brought back a surge of memories from earlier in the day - memories he tried to suppress, but couldn't help revisiting.
Jacob sighed, taking another sip of his whiskey. His smirk morphed into a serious expression as he forced his attention back onto his duty.
Just as Jacob was about to glance back at Gordon, a flicker of movement at the corner of his eye caught his attention. He squinted, his gaze zeroing in on a familiar face in the crowd. It was Barbara, the Asian woman from their briefing, her tall and curvy frame immediately recognizable.
His heart pounded a little faster as he noticed her subtly trailing after Ashley, who was now being led away by her dark-haired dance partner. Jacob shot a quick look towards Gordon, who was still entangled in a dance with Chris, completely oblivious to Ashley's movement.
With a roll of his eyes, Jacob pushed away his amusement at Gordon's situation. This was not the time for distractions. He slid off his barstool, leaving his whiskey behind, and started towards Barbara. He blended effortlessly with the crowd, his black suit camouflaging him in the dimly lit room.
As he neared Barbara, he fell into his well-rehearsed pattern of shadowing a target, maintaining a safe distance while keeping her in his line of sight. His hand subtly rested on the small device in his pocket - the stealth control transmitter & receiver pair - just in case he needed it.
Jacob was an expert at this - the stalking, the anticipation. The adrenaline rush was a part of his job he genuinely relished. A predatory smile curled on his lips as he thought of what he might have to do next.
__________________
For Ashley, the evening was a thrilling dance of laughter, flirting, and cocktails. Yet, something was off. Sherry, her usually energetic and vivacious friend, had been acting weird all night. Her antics on the dance floor were one thing, but the occasional stiff body language and the moments of awkward silence were entirely unlike her.
But these concerns paled as she found herself being led off the dance floor by the charming man she'd met earlier. He introduced himself as Tom, and the way he spun her around the dance floor had her head spinning with delight. It was the way he whispered compliments into her ear, his lips brushing against her hair, that kept her enchanted.
However, as they ventured further into the quieter, more secluded parts of the resort, a flicker of apprehension ignited within her. The lights of the dance floor were fading, replaced by the low hum of the backstage area. It felt wrong, almost predatory. Tom, her partner, no longer looked charming but sinister under the harsh backstage lights.
Before Ashley could process her thoughts and voice her concerns, a strong hand clamped around her mouth, silencing her surprised yelp. Her heart hammered in her chest as she was yanked off her feet and into the obscurity of a darkened room. The last sight she caught was that of Tom, a twisted smile playing on his lips as the door shut, plunging her into darkness.
_____________
Jacob swore as he walked off the dance floor, following Barbara’s mesmerising hips. He’d lost track of Ashley. He could have sworn she’d come this way just a moment ago. In a blur of colors and movement, he stopped in his tracks, eyes scanning the crowd in a frantic attempt to spot her. She had vanished. He cursed under his breath, his fists clenching at his sides. He'd let himself be distracted by Barbara's tantalizing movements, the hypnotic sway of her hips, the seductive bend of her spine as she moved with the rhythm of the music.
He looked back toward her as she pushed through a door to the backstage area. Those damn beautiful legs, with their thick muscles, silky curves, and glinting steel…
Wait, what?
He squinted. Strapped to Barbara’s thigh, just showing under the bunched up fabric of her dress, was a small, but lethal-looking knife. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. Barbara was the assassin they had been warned about.
He swallowed hard, forcing his gaze to remain focused. It was easy to get lost in the appreciation of her form, but the sight of the weapon brought him back to reality. He was not here to admire. He was here to protect.
He watched as Barbara made her way off the dance floor, her gait smooth and purposeful. His gut told him that Ashley was in danger, and he had to act fast. His fingers curled around the receiver in his pocket, ready to make his move. Now was not the time for admiring; now was the time for action.
The door to the backstage area swung shut behind Barbara, separating her from the bustling dance floor. The echo of her exit rumbled in Jacob's ears, setting his adrenaline surging. He'd let Ashley out of his sight once already, and he couldn't let it happen again.
With a newfound determination, Jacob took off after Barbara, his footfalls silent against the resort's plush carpeting. He wove his way through the throng of party-goers, his gaze fixed on the door Barbara had just passed through.
The backstage corridor was a sharp contrast to the vibrant scene they'd left behind. The din of the party was muffled here, replaced by the low hum of equipment and hushed conversations of staff. There, just a few strides away, Barbara moved with a killer's grace, her body coiled like a viper ready to strike.
Taking advantage of her lack of awareness, Jacob made his move. In one swift motion, he closed the distance between them and attached the stealth control receiver to the back of her neck. It adhered with a near-silent click, an unassuming speck on her tanned skin.
A rush of adrenaline swept over him. He was about to step into the shoes of an assassin. He couldn't afford to mess this up. His own body fell into its unresponsive slumber as he activated the transmitter, his consciousness diving into the unknown territory of Barbara's mind and body.
The transfer was instantaneous, like diving headfirst into a cold pool. One moment, Jacob was on the precipice of the transition; the next, he was immersed in the mind and body of an assassin. His first instinct was to familiarize himself with his new form.
Flexing his — no, Barbara's — fingers, he traced the curvaceous lines of her body. The strength beneath the feminine exterior was not lost on him; every curve, every muscle was toned and firm, sculpted by years of disciplined training.
He took a moment to chastise her for her line of work, delivering a firm slap to her cheek. The sensation was jarring. He could feel both the sting of the slap and the tremor that ran through her hand. His lips curled into a smirk at the absurdity of the act.
His gaze traveled downwards, observing the dress that clung to her like a second skin. He raised an eyebrow, taking in the sight of her attractive form. Being in a woman's body was one thing; being in the body of an attractive assassin was an entirely different ballgame.
He quickly pulled out the skin tight dress to stare down into his new cleavage. What was the point of taking over a female form if you couldn’t admire it, anyway? He shook his hips side to side, noticing the strange sensation that his legs were further apart then they should be. He quickly felt between his legs and smirked. He loved being a woman.
Jacob found himself musing about what life might be like for Barbara. How often did she use her beauty as a weapon, ensnaring her targets in a web of desire before delivering the final blow? How did she navigate the world of shadowy figures and deadly contracts while maintaining her femininity? It was a world he was about to explore, albeit temporarily. He only hoped he could navigate it as well as she did.
_____________________
Sherry found herself in the throes of a dance she didn't understand. It was a slow dance, her body swaying rhythmlessly, almost clumsily in a stranger's arms. The guy, a young man with a keen interest in her, had a grip on her that seemed too firm, too persistent. But for reasons unknown, she didn't pull away.
She was usually more composed, her moves fluid and natural. Tonight, though, something was off. Each step she took felt like a struggle, her legs buckling under her as if they had forgotten how to dance. Her signature grace was replaced with an awkwardness that puzzled her. It was as if her body was operating independently, responding to cues that she wasn't consciously giving.
It wasn't just her dance skills that were off, it was her entire perception. She felt detached from her actions, like a spectator in her own body. "What is happening to me?" she thought, as she once again found herself gently brushing down the front of her dress, between her legs, as if something was missing there.
Her eyes flitted around the room, desperately seeking a familiar face. Ashley was nowhere to be seen. A twinge of worry gnawed at her. She considered breaking away from the dance to find her, but her body continued to sway to the rhythm of the song. For the moment, she was trapped in the dance, locked in the arms of a stranger, her concern for Ashley gnawing at the back of her mind.
____________________________
Ashley was trying to keep her calm. Her wrists were bound together with a harsh, biting cord, her body shoved onto a chair in a dim, musty room. The man, who she now knew as Tom, was pacing restlessly in front of her.
Tom had a gruff exterior, his features hardened by what Ashley could only assume were years spent in illicit activities. He was irritated, glancing at the door every few seconds, his grumbles growing louder as time passed.
"Where the hell is she?" Tom growled under his breath, his gaze darting towards the old, rusty clock hanging off-kilter on the wall. The room, which seemed to be some sort of storage area, echoed with the loud ticking of the clock, punctuating the heavy silence that lay between them.
Ashley felt a wave of dread wash over her. She didn't know who they were waiting for, but she was certain that her appearance wouldn't bode well for her. Her mind raced, thoughts whirling in a tornado of fear and anxiety.
Suddenly, the door to the room burst open, revealing the silhouette of a woman. Barbara. Ashley knew her only casually from their classes, but she had always had a cold, distant demeanor. Ashley watched her with wide, fearful eyes, her heart hammering in her chest. Barbara stalked into the room, her eyes glinting dangerously. Tom straightened, a surprised grunt escaping his lips.
"Finally," he growled. "What took you so--"
His sentence was cut off as Barbara lunged at him. It happened so fast that Ashley barely had time to blink. One moment, Tom was standing, the next, he was sprawled on the floor with Barbara on top of him. She moved with a grace and precision that belied her size. Her fists rained down on Tom, and Ashley could hear the dull thud of each punch landing.
Tom fought back, his surprise turning into a snarl of anger. But Barbara – or was it Barbara? - was relentless. It was as if she was a completely different person, her eyes filled with a cold fury that Ashley had never seen before.
There was a crack, a yelp of pain from Tom, and then silence. Barbara rose, leaving Tom lying motionless on the floor. She turned towards Ashley, and for a moment, Ashley's heart seized in terror.
But then, Barbara – no, this couldn’t be Barbara - merely crossed the room to where Ashley sat, her eyes filled with an intensity that made her shiver. Her hands, surprisingly gentle, began to work at the cords binding Ashley. As she was freed, Ashley felt a rush of relief, her mind a whirl of questions.
Who was this woman really? And why had she come to her rescue?
_________________
It was strange. Jacob had been in female bodies before but somehow, controlling Barbara was different. There was a raw, physical power in her, a vitality that felt foreign and exhilarating. He flexed her hands, still tingling from the impact against Tom's face. He had managed to put the brute down, but not without some struggle. Women weren't supposed to be as strong as men, or so Jacob thought, but Barbara was an exception.
At the same time, he was irked. Controlling Barbara’s body had revealed a new set of challenges. Her strength wasn’t the same as his own, particularly his arms. It had taken quite a few punches to deal with Tom, and his knuckles were painful and swelling. As he kneeled to untie Ashley, he felt a pulse of fatigue.
"Who are you?" Ashley stuttered as the ropes loosened.
Jacob paused, a grimace crossing Barbara's face. "It's me, Ashley," he said, trying to infuse Barbara's voice with as much of his own character as possible. "Jacob. I’m using the stealth control tech."
He saw the confusion flicker across Ashley’s face before comprehension dawned on her. Her eyes widened in shock. "Jacob? Really?”
"We’ll have time for questions later," Jacob interrupted, finishing untying her. "Right now, we need to get you out of here."
As he stood up, he once again took a moment to appreciate the body he was controlling. Powerful, agile and, he had to admit, seductive. Barbara was a woman to be reckoned with. If he had his way, he wouldn't mind using this body a bit more.
Jacob felt Ashley stiffen as they approached his own limp body lying unnoticed in the corridor. He hated seeing himself like this - vulnerable and defenseless. It was a risk of the stealth control tech, but a necessary one.
“Jacob?” Ashley’s voice quivered, “Is that… your body?”
“Yeah, it is,” Jacob replied with a curt nod, feeling a grim satisfaction at the shock on Ashley’s face. He let go of her arm and knelt beside his own body. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a spare receiver, a near-invisible piece of technology that was the size of a coin.
"Here, turn around," Jacob instructed, holding the receiver up.
“What are you doing?” Ashley asked, a note of panic edging into her voice as she moved away.
Jacob rose to his feet, raising an eyebrow. “Well, you saw what happened tonight, right? Clearly, you need more protection. This," he said, holding the receiver up, "this will let me keep a closer eye on you."
Ashley looked from the receiver to Jacob’s unconscious body and then back to Barbara, a dawning realization in her eyes. “You want to control me too?”
“Only if necessary,” Jacob replied, his voice firm. “Besides, I did just save your life.”
Ashley hesitated for a moment longer, her gaze darting between Barbara and Jacob’s limp body. Finally, with a resigned sigh, she turned around. As Jacob attached the receiver onto the back of her neck, he could feel her shudder under his touch.
“Don’t worry, Ashley,” Jacob reassured her, “You’re in safe hands.” A grin spread across Barbara’s face as he said it.
“Um… okay.” said Ashley. “I’m going to head back up to my room now. Tell Sherry where I went.”
With that, she scampered away. Was it safe to let her run off by herself like that? Jacob thought. How many times could somebody get kidnapped in one night anyway?
Some part of him said probably more than once, but fuck it. He pushed through the door back into the club.
With Ashley finally off to safety, Jacob turned his attention back to the dance floor. He scanned the throng of gyrating bodies and found Gordon, still looking completely out of sorts in Sherry's body. His movements were clunky and unsure, like a fawn taking its first steps. A smirk played on Jacob's lips as he moved towards him.
As he approached, he saw a group of young men watching Gordon with a mix of amusement and lustful curiosity. "Excuse me, gents," Jacob said in Barbara's sultry voice, sliding between them with an ease that belied his masculine mind.
He reached Gordon and took his hands, leading him onto the dance floor. He could feel Gordon stiffen in surprise but made no attempt to pull away.
"Sherry," Jacob said, grinning mischievously, "you dance like you have two left feet. Let me show you how it's done."
Gordon, looking surprised, stuttered a reply. "Barbara? What are you—"
Jacob silenced him with a finger to his lips. "Shh. Dance with me, Sherry."
With that, Jacob led the dance. As Barbara, he moved fluidly, sensually, leading Sherry around the dance floor in a dance that drew the attention of everyone in the room. Jacob revelled in the moment, both in the control he held over the situation and in the pleasure of making Gordon squirm.
As the music swelled, Jacob spun Sherry out and then pulled her back in. Sherry's surprised yelp was swallowed by the cheers of the crowd. Jacob could barely contain his laughter as Gordon, wide-eyed and flushed, stared at him.
The song ended, and Jacob released Gordon, flashing him a smug smile. "That," he said, pointing a finger at Gordon, "is how you dance."
Jacob lowered Barbara’s already sultry voice. “Want to see how you do… something else?”
Sherry’s body stared up at him, eyes wide, and reached a hesitant hand around the side of Barbara’s neck. Jacob felt the fingers explore, settling on the receiver still attached just above the spine.
A look of understanding passed over Sherry’s face, and then she gave a small, subtle nod. Jacob leaned in for a kiss. The frat boys around them cheered.
_______________
Five drinks later, the two agents turned college girls were in each other's arms, sloppily alternating between making out and examining their new bodies.
“I think Sherry is a- a lightweight” giggled Gordon, blushing at the situation. “Here I am, a twenty one year old girl, or a fifty six year old man, or a jesus…”
“I don’t think you’re Jesus,” smirked Jacob. He used Barbara’s hand to fondle one of Sherry’s breasts. “He wasn’t nearly this stacked.”
“Should we… should we…” Gordon started.
“Find somewhere more private? Sure.” Jacob forced himself to his feet, once again admiring the long, feminine legs that stretched out before him.
“I was going to say dis- disengage” grumbled Gordon. “But I think I like your idea better.”
He nearly rolled one of Sherry’s ankles as he stumbled to his feet. He leaned on Barbara’s body as the two of them snuck away from the emptying bar and up to a room.
“You know the best thing about being a girl?” said Gordon drunkenly. “Everybody wants to have sex with you. Tom wanted to have sex with me. Chris wanted to have sex with me. Even hot college girls like Barbara want to have sex with me.”
He fell back onto the bed, rubbing his legs together.
“Evvveeerybody wants to have sex with me. I’m a sex god.”
“I’m not a college girl.” said Jacob, smirking as he took off his dress.
“Assassin, whatever.”
Jacob laughed. He reached underneath Sherry’s dress and pulled down her silk panties.
“And you know the worst part about being a girl? Evvverrrybody wants to have sex with me. What if I don’t want to have sex with them?”
Jacob pawed at one of Sherry's legs, nibbling at her thigh. Gordon mewed at him.
“I don’t get to turn it off. They always want to have sexxxx, even if I don’t want to. Every guy was staaaaaring at me. Half the girls were staring at me.”
Jacob tore off his own underwear and frowned down at his flat crotch. Oh yeah.
“Being a girl suuuuuuccccks. Everybody always wants to have seeeexxx with me.”
“Being a girl sucks alright”, thought Jacob as he drunkenly felt around between his legs. “How the fuck am I meant to have sex without a dick?”
He grunted and stared down at the hot, horny woman that was lying on her back in front of him, so wet it was running onto the sheets. He was so damn turned on. He would have had a throbbing erection if he was in his own body.
He looked down at himself. Past the large, hanging breasts, and to the bare vagina nestled between his thighs. He spread the labia uselessly, growly with frustration as he squinted, trying to see anything but the tiny clit that was pulsing there. It was so damn small. What the fuck was he meant to do with that?
“I’ll be right back,” Jacob growled. Gordon moaned in disappointment and began feeling himself up.
“You’re meant to rub it.” said Gordon, absentmindedly, as he began to use Sherry’s hands on her own body.
Jacob barged out of the door.
________________________________
Sherry was having a hell of a night. First she found she couldn’t dance for shit, next she spent like an hour being felt up by the same uncharming douchebag, and then she got drunk and made out with one of Ashley’s random college friends – Barbara? What was her name?
She stared down at herself, spreadeagled on the bed, horny as she had ever been. Now Barbara had disappeared, god knows where, and she could barely get herself off.
“Ugh!” she moaned in frustration. “This is way harder than it looks!”
She cupped her boob in one hand and tried to stick out her tongue to lick it, but couldn’t reach. Her other hand grabbed at her clit, tugging it up and down like a tiny little dick. Why wasn’t she acting normal? It usually took her two minutes to get off and go to sleep!
“Fuck this!” she huffed and collapsed back onto the bed. She raised her bare legs into the air and stared at them. One leg, two legs, kicking in the air.
She admired her toes as she flexed them about, rubbing one leg up and down the other. She had never really looked at herself like this before, but she had to admit, she had nice legs. She blew a kissy face at them.
“Hellloooo toes,” she chortled.
She moaned again in frustration. She didn’t want to talk to her toes. She wanted to get off! She’d been alternating between horny and frustrated all night – not to mention seemingly fascinated with her own body. What was that all about?
The door burst open.
“Still awake?” came a man’s voice. “It took me a while to sort out Barbara’s body, hand her over to the cops, make sure Ashley was safe, etcetera, etcetera.”
Sherry just stared at him. What the fuck was Jacob doing in her room?
“Nice view, boss.” he said, staring right up at her. Her legs were still raised in the air, her bare nether region exposed. She thought she should maybe cover up, but decided, why not let the perv get a view? Closest someone like him would ever get to her!
Jacob tore his pants off. “Glad you could save it for me.”
“Never tell anybody about this.” Sherry found herself hissing.
“You got it, boss.”
She looked down to see Jacob’s monster member growing before her eyes. She threw her head back and moaned. Maybe she could have sex with him after all? What’s the worst that could happen? Not like she’d been able to do much without him…
“Hurry up! You better be able to get me off in this damn horny body!”
A thick, meaty hand grabbed her ankle and pulled her along the bed. Then she felt a peculiar sensation of something big touching a hole that she had never felt before…
Of course she had felt that before, what was she thinking?
An alien sensation burst through her in little waves as Jacob’s dick entered her. She squeezed her eyes shut, concentrating on the sensation that bore through every nerve in her body.
“It feels so good!” she screamed, “and-what-the-fuck-it-feels-so-weird!”
Jacob began thrusting into her. He grabbed her arms and held them down on either side of her. All she could do was gasp as the sensations overwhelmed her body. In out in out in out.
Jacob grunted. “You like that old man? You like that Sherry?”
“Yes! Yes!”
“Fuck both of you! I’m the fucking king! What did either of you do tonight for the mission? What have you ever done for me!”
“No- nothing!”
“You like being made a little bitch, don’t you Gordon? Don’t you Sherry!”
Gordon? What the fuck was he talking about? But Sherry didn’t care, she let out a scream.
“Yes! Yes! Fuck me Jacob!”
“Cum like you haven’t had sex in a decade, old man!”
“Twenty five years! This is.. My first time… in twenty five years!”
Sherry was talking nonsense, but who cared? Her eyes rolled back in her head. She saw white. Every muscle in her body spasmed, every nerve cried out, she felt a wave slam into her mind, her fists clenched, her toes kicked, her whole body seized up, Jacob’s dick pulsating inside her, spurting deep into her body!
“OH GOOOOODDDDDD”
She collapsed back onto her bed. Jacob pulled out, and they quickly fell asleep.
______________________________
The next morning, Jacob was having a coffee outside the control room when Gordon, his old body looking tired and sore, grumbled his way out of the sleeping quarters.
“I don’t want to hear a fucking word.”
Jacob smirked, and that was that.
In the windowless confines of a government facility buried deep beneath Washington D.C., two men sat opposite each other in an unadorned room, the light from the single overhead bulb pooling around them. One was young, his buzzcut hair making him appear younger than his 28 years, and his brown eyes shone with defiance. The other was older, with the lined face of someone used to bearing weighty responsibility. His blue eyes held a stern, almost desperate look. These men were Jacob and Gordon, agents of the clandestine organization known as the CBI.
The room hummed with a quiet tension as a holographic display flickered to life between them. Images of a young woman with brown hair flashed on the screen. She looked bright, bubbly even, her smile filled with the naiveté of the privileged. Her name, the display read, was Ashley. Her father was a big shot in the government, and she was their next assignment.
Jacob leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest as his gaze darted from the hologram to his partner. The disdain in his voice was almost tangible. "So, we're playing babysitters now?"
Gordon's stern gaze remained fixed on the display. "We're protecting an innocent life, Jacob," he said, his voice tight. "An innocent life that, if lost, could plunge the country into chaos."
Jacob scoffed, unconvinced. "The rich girl's daddy has a lot of enemies, huh?"
"More than you'd think." Gordon looked at Jacob, his eyes betraying his seriousness. "This isn't just about Ashley. It's about national security."
The display changed to the image of a blonde-haired woman named Sherry and an Asian woman, labelled Barbara. "They're friends of Ashley’s. We’ve known Sherry for quite some time, but Barbara We believe Barbara is new to us. We haven’t been able to verify her identity."
Jacob's eyebrows shot up. "And we're supposed to do what? Use stealth control and become sorority sisters?"
Gordon ignored Jacob's sarcasm. "We're to protect Ashley, and if necessary, neutralize Barbara."
“Neutralize Barbara, Jesus Christ. We don’t even know who she is yet. She could just be some college student!”
There was a moment of silence as both men took in the gravity of their mission. Gordon continued, "We're to use the stealth control, as needed, to keep an eye on the girls without disrupting their holiday plans. We will be meeting them before the mission, so they will know who we are, and that we are there to keep them safe.”
Jacob looked like he'd swallowed a lemon. "Why am I always the one getting dressed in women's clothes?"
Gordon shrugged and gave a slight smile, "I can’t speak to your previous experience their, Jacob. Perhaps you make a good girl"
“Yeah, fuck you.” Jacob laughed, “We’ll see what happens.”
As the room plunged into darkness, both men rose from their chairs. They had a mission to accomplish. They were CBI agents; their personal feelings had no room in the grand scheme of things.
They were the unseen guardians, ready to step into the lives of the oblivious to keep them safe. It was their duty. Their burden.
“Hey, if you take over Sherry, will you show me her tits?”
It was just another day in the CBI.
______________________________________________
The private jet was an opulent capsule of wealth and privilege, humming smoothly above the clouds. Inside, Jacob and Gordon sat across from Ashley and Sherry. The air was thick with tension as they divulged the secrets of the CBI and their stealth control technology.
Jacob, lounging in his plush seat, was narrating a previous mission with a cheeky grin. "It was a nunnery in Budapest, you see," he began, "I had to infiltrate the sisterhood, become one of them. You wouldn't believe the shenanigans I got up to with those rosary beads."
Gordon winced at Jacob's choice of words. The older man knew that his partner's irreverence towards their technology would not help soothe the girls' anxiety. He cast an apologetic glance at Ashley, who was listening with wide-eyed disbelief.
Sherry, however, was less tolerant. The blonde girl crossed her arms, her blue eyes flashing with anger. "Are you telling me," she began, her voice icy, "that you could just take over one of us without us even knowing? That's... that's gross! It's disgusting!"
Jacob merely shrugged, not at all perturbed by her outrage. "It's the job," he said, leaning back into his seat. "It's not personal. And it's only if necessary. It's all about protecting your dear friend Ashley here."
Ashley looked terrified at the thought of her body being taken over. Sherry, on the other hand, looked downright furious.
Gordon, sensing the escalating tension, decided to intervene. "It's a measure of last resort, ladies," he assured them. "We would not use this technology unless it's absolutely necessary."
"But how can you make that decision?" Sherry protested, her voice shaking. "What gives you the right to use our bodies like... like empty vessels?"
Gordon's gaze hardened. "It's our duty, Miss. We're here to protect Ashley and you from potential harm."
"What potential harm?" Ashley asked, her voice tiny. "We're just on college break."
Gordon's glance slid to Jacob, then back to the girls. "We have reason to believe that one of your college mates, Barbara, might not be who she claims to be."
Sherry's nostrils flared, her sharp eyes narrowing on Jacob. "You probably enjoy this, don't you?" she accused, her voice dripping with contempt. "You get your kicks out of wearing women's bodies. Must be a real ego trip."
Jacob looked unfazed by her accusations. Instead, he let out a small chuckle, leaning back against his seat. "You know, Sherry," he said, his voice smooth as silk, "You really should learn to relax. Life's too short to always be angry."
Sherry's retort was cut off as the plane jostled slightly, a patch of turbulence causing everyone to grip their armrests. The distraction provided Jacob with the perfect cover. His hand moved deftly, slipping a small device from his pocket. With a swift, practised movement, he reached out under the guise of steadying Sherry and attached the receiver to the back of her neck.
She gave him a sour look, completely oblivious to the device now nestled under her blonde curls. "Keep your hands to yourself," she snapped, swatting his arm away.
Jacob simply raised his hands in a show of innocence, grinning like a Cheshire cat. "Just making sure you're safe, princess."
Gordon shot Jacob a stern look, shaking his head slightly. The younger agent was playing a dangerous game, but Gordon knew they didn't have the luxury of time. For now, they had to trust Jacob's instincts, as reckless as they seemed.
As the jet soared above the clouds, a game of cat and mouse was beginning to take shape. Unbeknownst to her, Sherry was now at the mercy of a technology that made her body an unwitting pawn in a high-stakes game. And all around her, eyes watched, ready to protect, and if necessary, to control.
Jacob fished out the small, innocuous-looking device from his pocket. It was the transmitter, the critical piece of technology that could bridge minds. "Now, ladies," he began, holding up the device for them to see, "this little gadget here is the key. It links me to the receiver, allowing me to 'borrow' the body."
Sherry scoffed, her face flushing with anger. "You mean 'hijack,' not 'borrow.'"
Jacob merely shrugged, the corners of his mouth pulling into a wry grin. "Potato, potahto."
"And you're planning to use it on me?" Sherry spat, her fingers curling into tight fists. “No way I’ll let you put one of those receiver things on me.”
"Why, Sherry, it's almost like you're worried." Jacob teased, his grin broadening. "I promise you won't feel a thing. One moment you'll be here, the next you'll be... well, still here. But with better decision-making skills."
Gordon frowned at Jacob's flippant remark, but remained silent. Ashley, on the other hand, was growing more anxious by the second. Her wide eyes darted between Jacob, Sherry, and the device in Jacob's hand.
"But... how can you ensure she won't realize?" Ashley asked, her voice quivering.
Jacob leaned back, clasping the transmitter device in his hand. "That's the beauty of it, Ashley. The person being controlled won't even realize they're not making their own decisions. They just think they're having a particularly decisive day."
Ashley gulped, her gaze drifting towards Sherry, who was now standing, her eyes blazing with fury. "And what if I refuse?" Sherry snapped, her voice echoing in the confined space of the jet.
Jacob met her gaze unflinchingly, his grin never wavering. "Well, then, princess," he said, his voice deceptively soft, "you can consider this a lesson in diplomacy. Or better yet, consider it... an adventure."
"An adventure?" Sherry scoffed, her eyes alight with a mixture of anger and defiance. "I think you'll find, Jacob, that I'm not as easy to control as you think."
Jacob's grin widened, his gaze meeting hers. "Is that a challenge, princess?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. His eyes gleamed with anticipation at the thought of finally putting the arrogant heiress in her place.
Beside Sherry, Ashley's brow furrowed in thought. "But... what does it feel like?" she asked quietly. "Being controlled, I mean."
Jacob shifted his attention to Ashley, his grin softening into a gentler smile. "It's like being a passenger in your own body, Ashley," he explained. "You feel everything, you see everything. But the decisions, the actions, they're all made by someone else. And the best part? You won't even realize it's not you."
Ashley chewed on her lower lip, her brown eyes filled with a mix of fear and curiosity. "So... it's like sleepwalking?"
"In a way," Gordon chimed in, his voice steady. "You're aware of everything happening, but it's like you're on autopilot."
"But I can resist, right?" Sherry cut in, her voice filled with determination. "I mean, it's my body. I should be able to fight it."
Jacob chuckled, the sound echoing through the private jet. "I'd love to see you try, princess," he said, his tone filled with a challenge. He was relishing the opportunity to use the stealth control technology, and even more so, the opportunity to take Sherry down a notch.
Gordon watched the exchange quietly. There was an undeniable tension building between Jacob and Sherry, a silent power struggle that hung heavy in the air. As for Ashley, she was a mixture of curiosity and fear. But Gordon knew they didn't have the luxury of choice anymore. A game was set to begin, and whether they liked it or not, they were all players.
Jacob lifted the transmitter, his fingers curling around the device. His eyes locked onto Sherry's defiant glare, a predatory grin playing on his lips.
"Let's put your theory to the test, shall we, princess?" His voice was low and taunting, as he pressed a button on the transmitter.
The moment the button was pressed, Jacob's body slumped back in his chair, eyes closed, and a blank expression on his face. Meanwhile, the effect on Sherry was immediate and startling.
Sherry's eyes glazed over for a moment, before a confident, almost mischievous smirk spread across her face - a mirror image of Jacob's. Her posture changed subtly, carrying the swagger and bravado that Jacob exhibited. Her hands reached out, grabbing onto the arms of her chair, and then she was pushing herself up to a standing position.
Inside Sherry's body, Jacob was reveling in his control. His – or rather, Sherry's – hands spread wide as he straightened her back, pushing her shoulders back with an exaggerated flourish. He could feel the luxurious fabric of her clothes, the power of her healthy, young muscles. Sherry's outraged expression had been replaced by his confident smirk, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of his delight and daring.
"This," he made Sherry's voice purr, gesturing to her body with her hands, "is rather impressive."
Across the aisle, Ashley's eyes went wide with shock, her gaze darting between Sherry's animated form and Jacob's lifeless body. She was silent, her hand hovering uncertainly over her mouth as she grappled with the reality of what she was witnessing.
Gordon's face was a stoic mask, his eyes moving between his own lifeless partner and the heiress, now dancing like a puppet on a string. He noted the smug satisfaction radiating off of 'Sherry', and knew Jacob was thoroughly enjoying himself.
A strange sensation gripped Sherry, but it was not an unpleasant one. It was like waking up in the morning and not quite remembering your dream, but knowing it had been delightful. She found herself giggling, her hands drifting down to the hem of her dress and tugging it experimentally. It was her decision, she thought. Why else would she do it?
She was aware of the luxurious fabric sliding between her fingers, of the way it hugged her figure. She was not usually one to admire herself so openly, yet now she found herself doing just that. She glanced down at her designer heels and in the blink of an eye, decided they were far too constricting. With a small huff, she kicked them off, the shoes sailing through the air with a satisfying arc before landing with a muffled thud.
Her gaze returned to her bare feet, her pedicured toes wriggling against the plush carpet of the jet. The sensation was... liberating. She looked at her own body, her hands exploring the curves of her form, the feeling so natural it was as if she had decided to do it herself.
Yet somewhere, a small part of her mind fluttered with uncertainty. She remembered Jacob's promise, his taunting grin, the way his body had slumped lifelessly. Was it possible that she wasn't in control, that she was just a passenger in her own body?
She pushed the thought away immediately. She was Sherry, the woman who bowed to no one, the woman who was always in control. She was not going to be manipulated by a man who saw her as nothing more than a plaything.
She cupped her breasts with a smirk. Yep, these were hers all right.
The moment was interrupted by Gordon's stern voice, "Alright, Jacob. That's enough. Don't embarrass the girl."
Jacob's smirk, painted on Sherry's face, deepened at his partner's reprimand. With a dramatic bow, he surrendered the controls. The moment he disengaged the transmitter, his own body jerked back to life, a yawn escaping his lips as though he had just woken from a nap.
At the same time, Sherry's body froze, the audacious smirk slowly melting from her face. She blinked, her eyes returning to their usual fierce determination. She looked around, her brows furrowed in confusion, as if waking from an odd dream.
Ashley rushed over to her friend, concern etched into her face. "Sherry, are you okay? What did it feel like?"
Sherry frowned, her hands running down her dress, straightening it out. "What do you mean, 'what did it feel like'? I was just...having a bit of fun, that's all."
"But... but Jacob was controlling you," Ashley stammered, glancing between her friend and the CBI agent. "Didn't you feel that?"
"Nonsense," Sherry huffed, a flush creeping onto her cheeks. "No one controls me. Not even Jacob."
Gordon watched the exchange in silence. If Jacob's demonstration had taught them anything, it was the power and subtlety of the stealth control technology. Even now, Sherry refused to believe she'd been manipulated.
Jacob, meanwhile, stretched in his seat, a satisfied smirk still dancing on his lips. He'd enjoyed the ride more than he'd anticipated, and Sherry's continued denial was just icing on the cake. Despite the underlying seriousness of their mission, he found himself looking forward to what would come next.
It didn’t have to be him that was stuck inside that gorgeous female body, after all.
As the private jet descended onto the private airstrip of the island resort, Ashley and Sherry gazed out the window, their eyes filled with anticipation. From above, the resort looked like a paradise. An ocean of turquoise blue lapped against white sandy beaches, while luxurious villas lay dotted amidst lush, tropical greenery.
Once they'd landed, Ashley and Sherry, fueled by excitement, hurried off the jet and disappeared into the resort. They were seemingly unaffected by the strange events on the plane, or perhaps just choosing to ignore them for now.
With the girls out of earshot, Gordon turned to Jacob. His stern gaze bore into his partner's smirking face. "What you did up there was inappropriate," he chided, his voice low but firm. "This isn't a game, Jacob. We're here to protect Ashley and Sherry, not to make fools of them."
Jacob's smirk didn't waver. If anything, it grew wider. "Oh, I'm well aware of that, Gordon," he said casually. "But I also think it's important to enjoy your work, don't you?"
Gordon sighed, rubbing his temples. "This is serious, Jacob. We have a mission."
Jacob rolled his eyes. "Yes, I know. All serious and no play. But tell you what, Gordon. Next time, you get to do the controlling. I'd love to see what 'fun' you'd have with Sherry."
Gordon's face blanched at the thought. "Jacob, I..."
Jacob cut him off with a dismissive wave of his hand. "No arguments, Gordon. We'll see how much of a straight shooter you are then."
As Jacob walked off towards the resort, leaving a dumbstruck Gordon behind, he couldn't help but chuckle. His mission had just gotten a whole lot more interesting.
___________________________
Inside one of the private villas in the resort, Gordon and Jacob had swiftly set up their temporary base of operations. Surveillance equipment was neatly arranged across the tables, while a screen displayed the layout of the entire resort. Here, they would keep a close eye on Ashley and Sherry while blending into the luxurious backdrop of their surroundings.
The evening brought with it a gentle breeze that swept across the balcony of the villa, rustling the leaves of the palm trees outside. Gordon found himself standing there, staring out into the approaching dusk, his thoughts burdened by the prospect of the task ahead.
Jacob joined him, his posture relaxed, a glass of some exotic drink in his hand. "Nervous, Gordon?" he asked, a teasing edge to his voice.
Gordon shot him a sidelong glance. "I just... I don't agree with this method. It feels wrong."
Jacob chuckled, taking a sip from his drink. "You'll get used to it. Besides, we're doing this for Ashley, remember? So she can enjoy her break with her friends, oblivious to the danger lurking around."
Gordon sighed, a resigned expression crossing his face. "Fine. I'll take over Sherry. But you're tailing us in your own body. No more 'fun' at their expense."
Jacob laughed, raising his glass. "Deal. And don't worry, Gordon. I'll be the perfect, invisible shadow. No antics, promise."
The decision to initiate the stealth control came swiftly and without ceremony. In the privacy of their villa, Gordon held the small transmitter, a device no larger than a pocket watch, and connected to the receiver implanted on Sherry. The world swirled around him for a moment, and then, darkness.
When he woke up, he found himself seated at the resort bar, ambient music softly playing in the background. He was now in Sherry's body, her senses his, her world his to navigate. As he came to terms with the transfer, he took a moment to observe his new surroundings.
The air was filled with the scent of exotic perfumes and tropical drinks, mixed with the salty tang of the nearby ocean. His ears picked up the faint laughter and chatter of other guests, the clinking of glasses, and the distant crash of waves against the shore. It was a sensory overload compared to the quiet solitude of the CBI headquarters, and Gordon had to suppress a wave of vertigo.
Cautiously, he glanced down at his new body. It was strange to see Sherry's slender fingers resting on the bar counter instead of his own callused hands. He could feel the cool, polished surface of the bar under these fingers, the smooth grain of the wood distinct and real.
Sherry was dressed for a night on the town, in a little black dress that shimmered under the warm lighting of the bar. He could feel the soft fabric against his skin, the hemline resting high on his - no, Sherry's - thighs. The sensation of the strappy heels on his feet was new and uncomfortable. It felt like he was walking on stilts, precariously balancing with every step.
Just as he was grappling with the surreal experience, Ashley approached. She was dressed equally stylish, a bright smile on her face as she took the seat next to Sherry's body. "Sherry, you were right! This place is fabulous!"
Keeping up appearances, Gordon forced a smile, trying to mimic Sherry's mean-spirited charm. "Told you, didn't I? Only the best for us, Ash."
Gordon, having assumed the role of Sherry, felt a rush of panic as Ashley, buzzing with youthful exuberance, grabbed his - her - hand. "Let's dance, Sherry!" she said, her voice brimming with enthusiasm. Before Gordon could utter a word of protest, Ashley had pulled him onto the dance floor. The pulsing beat of the music seemed to engulf him, the rhythm a foreign language his body did not speak.
He found himself in the midst of a swirling kaleidoscope of colors, the flashing strobe lights illuminating the dance floor in a frenetic array. The energy was contagious, the crowd swaying and moving as one, but Gordon felt like an intruder in this world. He was an agent, trained to navigate the darkest corners of the world, not a dance floor.
Despite his discomfort, Gordon pushed aside his reservations, trying to mimic the moves of the people around him. He attempted to keep a safe distance from Ashley, but she seemed keen on dancing more intimately, matching the rhythm and closeness of the other dancers.
The heels were another challenge altogether. With each step, he could feel his balance falter. It was a stark contrast to his usual surefootedness in sturdy combat boots. He cursed Jacob under his breath - this was a world he was unprepared for.
To add to his mounting discomfort, the hemline of Sherry's dress seemed determined to defy gravity, riding up with every movement he made. It was a battle to keep pulling it down, all the while trying to maintain his balance and continue the dance.
"I didn't know you were so shy, Sherry," Ashley giggled, seemingly oblivious to his discomfort. "You usually take the lead."
Gordon laughed, hoping it sounded genuine. "I guess, it's just one of those nights, Ash. Let's just enjoy the music, shall we?"
As the music blared and bodies swayed around him, Gordon realized that he was not just in uncharted territory. He was on a battlefield, far removed from his comfort zone. But, as with all battles, he would adapt and overcome.
As the tempo of the music began to slow down, two men approached them. One was a tall, dark-haired man with a charming smile, while the other had sandy hair and blue eyes that held a hint of mischief. Ashley, ever the social butterfly, eagerly introduced herself and, in a matter of moments, was whisked away to the other side of the dance floor by the dark-haired stranger.
Gordon, still in Sherry's body, was left alone with the sandy-haired man. He was named Chris, a name Gordon committed to memory in case it was needed later. As the man extended his hand to him, inviting him for the slow dance, Gordon felt a pang of unease. This was far from the battlefields he was used to.
As Chris pulled him closer, Gordon felt the distinct discomfort of being in an attractive woman's body. The warmth of the man’s body was uncomfortably intimate, his hand resting at the small of Sherry's back felt invasive, and the smell of his aftershave was too potent, a little too sweet for Gordon's liking.
Gordon forced a smile, playing along with the dance, his body moving in sync with the rhythm. He kept reminding himself that this was all a part of the mission, a necessary discomfort for the greater cause. But, as Chris's hand moved a little too low for Gordon's comfort, he found himself fighting a blush of embarrassment. The feeling was both foreign and unsettling.
"Sherry, you're quite the dancer," Chris murmured, his gaze appreciative, as Gordon tottered around awkwardly in Sherry’s heels.
"I bet you say that to all your girlfriends." Gordon replied in his high pitched voice, trying his best to emulate Sherry's sharp and sassy tone.
__________________
Jacob sat across the room, sipping on a glass of whiskey as he observed the dance floor. His trained eyes scanned the crowd, on the lookout for any signs of danger. But, his attention inevitably strayed to the sight of Gordon, in Sherry's body, tottering about like a newborn lamb on the dance floor.
A smirk spread across Jacob's face, his brown eyes twinkling with amusement. The usually stern and upstanding Gordon was now attempting to navigate the world of high heels and mini dresses, and from Jacob's perspective, it was a sight to behold.
He watched as Gordon, or rather Sherry, swayed gently to the rhythm of the music, an awkward contrast to the fluid movements of his dancing partner. Jacob stifled a laugh as he saw Gordon struggling to pull the dress down, only for it to rebelliously creep back up.
His gaze then slid to Sherry's legs, an aspect of her appearance he hadn't previously given much thought. The dress, although a source of discomfort for Gordon, did accentuate the length and graceful curve of her legs. A pang of appreciation and regret hit Jacob simultaneously. He couldn't deny that Sherry's body was appealing, yet it brought back a surge of memories from earlier in the day - memories he tried to suppress, but couldn't help revisiting.
Jacob sighed, taking another sip of his whiskey. His smirk morphed into a serious expression as he forced his attention back onto his duty.
Just as Jacob was about to glance back at Gordon, a flicker of movement at the corner of his eye caught his attention. He squinted, his gaze zeroing in on a familiar face in the crowd. It was Barbara, the Asian woman from their briefing, her tall and curvy frame immediately recognizable.
His heart pounded a little faster as he noticed her subtly trailing after Ashley, who was now being led away by her dark-haired dance partner. Jacob shot a quick look towards Gordon, who was still entangled in a dance with Chris, completely oblivious to Ashley's movement.
With a roll of his eyes, Jacob pushed away his amusement at Gordon's situation. This was not the time for distractions. He slid off his barstool, leaving his whiskey behind, and started towards Barbara. He blended effortlessly with the crowd, his black suit camouflaging him in the dimly lit room.
As he neared Barbara, he fell into his well-rehearsed pattern of shadowing a target, maintaining a safe distance while keeping her in his line of sight. His hand subtly rested on the small device in his pocket - the stealth control transmitter & receiver pair - just in case he needed it.
Jacob was an expert at this - the stalking, the anticipation. The adrenaline rush was a part of his job he genuinely relished. A predatory smile curled on his lips as he thought of what he might have to do next.
__________________
For Ashley, the evening was a thrilling dance of laughter, flirting, and cocktails. Yet, something was off. Sherry, her usually energetic and vivacious friend, had been acting weird all night. Her antics on the dance floor were one thing, but the occasional stiff body language and the moments of awkward silence were entirely unlike her.
But these concerns paled as she found herself being led off the dance floor by the charming man she'd met earlier. He introduced himself as Tom, and the way he spun her around the dance floor had her head spinning with delight. It was the way he whispered compliments into her ear, his lips brushing against her hair, that kept her enchanted.
However, as they ventured further into the quieter, more secluded parts of the resort, a flicker of apprehension ignited within her. The lights of the dance floor were fading, replaced by the low hum of the backstage area. It felt wrong, almost predatory. Tom, her partner, no longer looked charming but sinister under the harsh backstage lights.
Before Ashley could process her thoughts and voice her concerns, a strong hand clamped around her mouth, silencing her surprised yelp. Her heart hammered in her chest as she was yanked off her feet and into the obscurity of a darkened room. The last sight she caught was that of Tom, a twisted smile playing on his lips as the door shut, plunging her into darkness.
_____________
Jacob swore as he walked off the dance floor, following Barbara’s mesmerising hips. He’d lost track of Ashley. He could have sworn she’d come this way just a moment ago. In a blur of colors and movement, he stopped in his tracks, eyes scanning the crowd in a frantic attempt to spot her. She had vanished. He cursed under his breath, his fists clenching at his sides. He'd let himself be distracted by Barbara's tantalizing movements, the hypnotic sway of her hips, the seductive bend of her spine as she moved with the rhythm of the music.
He looked back toward her as she pushed through a door to the backstage area. Those damn beautiful legs, with their thick muscles, silky curves, and glinting steel…
Wait, what?
He squinted. Strapped to Barbara’s thigh, just showing under the bunched up fabric of her dress, was a small, but lethal-looking knife. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. Barbara was the assassin they had been warned about.
He swallowed hard, forcing his gaze to remain focused. It was easy to get lost in the appreciation of her form, but the sight of the weapon brought him back to reality. He was not here to admire. He was here to protect.
He watched as Barbara made her way off the dance floor, her gait smooth and purposeful. His gut told him that Ashley was in danger, and he had to act fast. His fingers curled around the receiver in his pocket, ready to make his move. Now was not the time for admiring; now was the time for action.
The door to the backstage area swung shut behind Barbara, separating her from the bustling dance floor. The echo of her exit rumbled in Jacob's ears, setting his adrenaline surging. He'd let Ashley out of his sight once already, and he couldn't let it happen again.
With a newfound determination, Jacob took off after Barbara, his footfalls silent against the resort's plush carpeting. He wove his way through the throng of party-goers, his gaze fixed on the door Barbara had just passed through.
The backstage corridor was a sharp contrast to the vibrant scene they'd left behind. The din of the party was muffled here, replaced by the low hum of equipment and hushed conversations of staff. There, just a few strides away, Barbara moved with a killer's grace, her body coiled like a viper ready to strike.
Taking advantage of her lack of awareness, Jacob made his move. In one swift motion, he closed the distance between them and attached the stealth control receiver to the back of her neck. It adhered with a near-silent click, an unassuming speck on her tanned skin.
A rush of adrenaline swept over him. He was about to step into the shoes of an assassin. He couldn't afford to mess this up. His own body fell into its unresponsive slumber as he activated the transmitter, his consciousness diving into the unknown territory of Barbara's mind and body.
The transfer was instantaneous, like diving headfirst into a cold pool. One moment, Jacob was on the precipice of the transition; the next, he was immersed in the mind and body of an assassin. His first instinct was to familiarize himself with his new form.
Flexing his — no, Barbara's — fingers, he traced the curvaceous lines of her body. The strength beneath the feminine exterior was not lost on him; every curve, every muscle was toned and firm, sculpted by years of disciplined training.
He took a moment to chastise her for her line of work, delivering a firm slap to her cheek. The sensation was jarring. He could feel both the sting of the slap and the tremor that ran through her hand. His lips curled into a smirk at the absurdity of the act.
His gaze traveled downwards, observing the dress that clung to her like a second skin. He raised an eyebrow, taking in the sight of her attractive form. Being in a woman's body was one thing; being in the body of an attractive assassin was an entirely different ballgame.
He quickly pulled out the skin tight dress to stare down into his new cleavage. What was the point of taking over a female form if you couldn’t admire it, anyway? He shook his hips side to side, noticing the strange sensation that his legs were further apart then they should be. He quickly felt between his legs and smirked. He loved being a woman.
Jacob found himself musing about what life might be like for Barbara. How often did she use her beauty as a weapon, ensnaring her targets in a web of desire before delivering the final blow? How did she navigate the world of shadowy figures and deadly contracts while maintaining her femininity? It was a world he was about to explore, albeit temporarily. He only hoped he could navigate it as well as she did.
_____________________
Sherry found herself in the throes of a dance she didn't understand. It was a slow dance, her body swaying rhythmlessly, almost clumsily in a stranger's arms. The guy, a young man with a keen interest in her, had a grip on her that seemed too firm, too persistent. But for reasons unknown, she didn't pull away.
She was usually more composed, her moves fluid and natural. Tonight, though, something was off. Each step she took felt like a struggle, her legs buckling under her as if they had forgotten how to dance. Her signature grace was replaced with an awkwardness that puzzled her. It was as if her body was operating independently, responding to cues that she wasn't consciously giving.
It wasn't just her dance skills that were off, it was her entire perception. She felt detached from her actions, like a spectator in her own body. "What is happening to me?" she thought, as she once again found herself gently brushing down the front of her dress, between her legs, as if something was missing there.
Her eyes flitted around the room, desperately seeking a familiar face. Ashley was nowhere to be seen. A twinge of worry gnawed at her. She considered breaking away from the dance to find her, but her body continued to sway to the rhythm of the song. For the moment, she was trapped in the dance, locked in the arms of a stranger, her concern for Ashley gnawing at the back of her mind.
____________________________
Ashley was trying to keep her calm. Her wrists were bound together with a harsh, biting cord, her body shoved onto a chair in a dim, musty room. The man, who she now knew as Tom, was pacing restlessly in front of her.
Tom had a gruff exterior, his features hardened by what Ashley could only assume were years spent in illicit activities. He was irritated, glancing at the door every few seconds, his grumbles growing louder as time passed.
"Where the hell is she?" Tom growled under his breath, his gaze darting towards the old, rusty clock hanging off-kilter on the wall. The room, which seemed to be some sort of storage area, echoed with the loud ticking of the clock, punctuating the heavy silence that lay between them.
Ashley felt a wave of dread wash over her. She didn't know who they were waiting for, but she was certain that her appearance wouldn't bode well for her. Her mind raced, thoughts whirling in a tornado of fear and anxiety.
Suddenly, the door to the room burst open, revealing the silhouette of a woman. Barbara. Ashley knew her only casually from their classes, but she had always had a cold, distant demeanor. Ashley watched her with wide, fearful eyes, her heart hammering in her chest. Barbara stalked into the room, her eyes glinting dangerously. Tom straightened, a surprised grunt escaping his lips.
"Finally," he growled. "What took you so--"
His sentence was cut off as Barbara lunged at him. It happened so fast that Ashley barely had time to blink. One moment, Tom was standing, the next, he was sprawled on the floor with Barbara on top of him. She moved with a grace and precision that belied her size. Her fists rained down on Tom, and Ashley could hear the dull thud of each punch landing.
Tom fought back, his surprise turning into a snarl of anger. But Barbara – or was it Barbara? - was relentless. It was as if she was a completely different person, her eyes filled with a cold fury that Ashley had never seen before.
There was a crack, a yelp of pain from Tom, and then silence. Barbara rose, leaving Tom lying motionless on the floor. She turned towards Ashley, and for a moment, Ashley's heart seized in terror.
But then, Barbara – no, this couldn’t be Barbara - merely crossed the room to where Ashley sat, her eyes filled with an intensity that made her shiver. Her hands, surprisingly gentle, began to work at the cords binding Ashley. As she was freed, Ashley felt a rush of relief, her mind a whirl of questions.
Who was this woman really? And why had she come to her rescue?
_________________
It was strange. Jacob had been in female bodies before but somehow, controlling Barbara was different. There was a raw, physical power in her, a vitality that felt foreign and exhilarating. He flexed her hands, still tingling from the impact against Tom's face. He had managed to put the brute down, but not without some struggle. Women weren't supposed to be as strong as men, or so Jacob thought, but Barbara was an exception.
At the same time, he was irked. Controlling Barbara’s body had revealed a new set of challenges. Her strength wasn’t the same as his own, particularly his arms. It had taken quite a few punches to deal with Tom, and his knuckles were painful and swelling. As he kneeled to untie Ashley, he felt a pulse of fatigue.
"Who are you?" Ashley stuttered as the ropes loosened.
Jacob paused, a grimace crossing Barbara's face. "It's me, Ashley," he said, trying to infuse Barbara's voice with as much of his own character as possible. "Jacob. I’m using the stealth control tech."
He saw the confusion flicker across Ashley’s face before comprehension dawned on her. Her eyes widened in shock. "Jacob? Really?”
"We’ll have time for questions later," Jacob interrupted, finishing untying her. "Right now, we need to get you out of here."
As he stood up, he once again took a moment to appreciate the body he was controlling. Powerful, agile and, he had to admit, seductive. Barbara was a woman to be reckoned with. If he had his way, he wouldn't mind using this body a bit more.
Jacob felt Ashley stiffen as they approached his own limp body lying unnoticed in the corridor. He hated seeing himself like this - vulnerable and defenseless. It was a risk of the stealth control tech, but a necessary one.
“Jacob?” Ashley’s voice quivered, “Is that… your body?”
“Yeah, it is,” Jacob replied with a curt nod, feeling a grim satisfaction at the shock on Ashley’s face. He let go of her arm and knelt beside his own body. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a spare receiver, a near-invisible piece of technology that was the size of a coin.
"Here, turn around," Jacob instructed, holding the receiver up.
“What are you doing?” Ashley asked, a note of panic edging into her voice as she moved away.
Jacob rose to his feet, raising an eyebrow. “Well, you saw what happened tonight, right? Clearly, you need more protection. This," he said, holding the receiver up, "this will let me keep a closer eye on you."
Ashley looked from the receiver to Jacob’s unconscious body and then back to Barbara, a dawning realization in her eyes. “You want to control me too?”
“Only if necessary,” Jacob replied, his voice firm. “Besides, I did just save your life.”
Ashley hesitated for a moment longer, her gaze darting between Barbara and Jacob’s limp body. Finally, with a resigned sigh, she turned around. As Jacob attached the receiver onto the back of her neck, he could feel her shudder under his touch.
“Don’t worry, Ashley,” Jacob reassured her, “You’re in safe hands.” A grin spread across Barbara’s face as he said it.
“Um… okay.” said Ashley. “I’m going to head back up to my room now. Tell Sherry where I went.”
With that, she scampered away. Was it safe to let her run off by herself like that? Jacob thought. How many times could somebody get kidnapped in one night anyway?
Some part of him said probably more than once, but fuck it. He pushed through the door back into the club.
With Ashley finally off to safety, Jacob turned his attention back to the dance floor. He scanned the throng of gyrating bodies and found Gordon, still looking completely out of sorts in Sherry's body. His movements were clunky and unsure, like a fawn taking its first steps. A smirk played on Jacob's lips as he moved towards him.
As he approached, he saw a group of young men watching Gordon with a mix of amusement and lustful curiosity. "Excuse me, gents," Jacob said in Barbara's sultry voice, sliding between them with an ease that belied his masculine mind.
He reached Gordon and took his hands, leading him onto the dance floor. He could feel Gordon stiffen in surprise but made no attempt to pull away.
"Sherry," Jacob said, grinning mischievously, "you dance like you have two left feet. Let me show you how it's done."
Gordon, looking surprised, stuttered a reply. "Barbara? What are you—"
Jacob silenced him with a finger to his lips. "Shh. Dance with me, Sherry."
With that, Jacob led the dance. As Barbara, he moved fluidly, sensually, leading Sherry around the dance floor in a dance that drew the attention of everyone in the room. Jacob revelled in the moment, both in the control he held over the situation and in the pleasure of making Gordon squirm.
As the music swelled, Jacob spun Sherry out and then pulled her back in. Sherry's surprised yelp was swallowed by the cheers of the crowd. Jacob could barely contain his laughter as Gordon, wide-eyed and flushed, stared at him.
The song ended, and Jacob released Gordon, flashing him a smug smile. "That," he said, pointing a finger at Gordon, "is how you dance."
Jacob lowered Barbara’s already sultry voice. “Want to see how you do… something else?”
Sherry’s body stared up at him, eyes wide, and reached a hesitant hand around the side of Barbara’s neck. Jacob felt the fingers explore, settling on the receiver still attached just above the spine.
A look of understanding passed over Sherry’s face, and then she gave a small, subtle nod. Jacob leaned in for a kiss. The frat boys around them cheered.
_______________
Five drinks later, the two agents turned college girls were in each other's arms, sloppily alternating between making out and examining their new bodies.
“I think Sherry is a- a lightweight” giggled Gordon, blushing at the situation. “Here I am, a twenty one year old girl, or a fifty six year old man, or a jesus…”
“I don’t think you’re Jesus,” smirked Jacob. He used Barbara’s hand to fondle one of Sherry’s breasts. “He wasn’t nearly this stacked.”
“Should we… should we…” Gordon started.
“Find somewhere more private? Sure.” Jacob forced himself to his feet, once again admiring the long, feminine legs that stretched out before him.
“I was going to say dis- disengage” grumbled Gordon. “But I think I like your idea better.”
He nearly rolled one of Sherry’s ankles as he stumbled to his feet. He leaned on Barbara’s body as the two of them snuck away from the emptying bar and up to a room.
“You know the best thing about being a girl?” said Gordon drunkenly. “Everybody wants to have sex with you. Tom wanted to have sex with me. Chris wanted to have sex with me. Even hot college girls like Barbara want to have sex with me.”
He fell back onto the bed, rubbing his legs together.
“Evvveeerybody wants to have sex with me. I’m a sex god.”
“I’m not a college girl.” said Jacob, smirking as he took off his dress.
“Assassin, whatever.”
Jacob laughed. He reached underneath Sherry’s dress and pulled down her silk panties.
“And you know the worst part about being a girl? Evvverrrybody wants to have sex with me. What if I don’t want to have sex with them?”
Jacob pawed at one of Sherry's legs, nibbling at her thigh. Gordon mewed at him.
“I don’t get to turn it off. They always want to have sexxxx, even if I don’t want to. Every guy was staaaaaring at me. Half the girls were staring at me.”
Jacob tore off his own underwear and frowned down at his flat crotch. Oh yeah.
“Being a girl suuuuuuccccks. Everybody always wants to have seeeexxx with me.”
“Being a girl sucks alright”, thought Jacob as he drunkenly felt around between his legs. “How the fuck am I meant to have sex without a dick?”
He grunted and stared down at the hot, horny woman that was lying on her back in front of him, so wet it was running onto the sheets. He was so damn turned on. He would have had a throbbing erection if he was in his own body.
He looked down at himself. Past the large, hanging breasts, and to the bare vagina nestled between his thighs. He spread the labia uselessly, growly with frustration as he squinted, trying to see anything but the tiny clit that was pulsing there. It was so damn small. What the fuck was he meant to do with that?
“I’ll be right back,” Jacob growled. Gordon moaned in disappointment and began feeling himself up.
“You’re meant to rub it.” said Gordon, absentmindedly, as he began to use Sherry’s hands on her own body.
Jacob barged out of the door.
________________________________
Sherry was having a hell of a night. First she found she couldn’t dance for shit, next she spent like an hour being felt up by the same uncharming douchebag, and then she got drunk and made out with one of Ashley’s random college friends – Barbara? What was her name?
She stared down at herself, spreadeagled on the bed, horny as she had ever been. Now Barbara had disappeared, god knows where, and she could barely get herself off.
“Ugh!” she moaned in frustration. “This is way harder than it looks!”
She cupped her boob in one hand and tried to stick out her tongue to lick it, but couldn’t reach. Her other hand grabbed at her clit, tugging it up and down like a tiny little dick. Why wasn’t she acting normal? It usually took her two minutes to get off and go to sleep!
“Fuck this!” she huffed and collapsed back onto the bed. She raised her bare legs into the air and stared at them. One leg, two legs, kicking in the air.
She admired her toes as she flexed them about, rubbing one leg up and down the other. She had never really looked at herself like this before, but she had to admit, she had nice legs. She blew a kissy face at them.
“Hellloooo toes,” she chortled.
She moaned again in frustration. She didn’t want to talk to her toes. She wanted to get off! She’d been alternating between horny and frustrated all night – not to mention seemingly fascinated with her own body. What was that all about?
The door burst open.
“Still awake?” came a man’s voice. “It took me a while to sort out Barbara’s body, hand her over to the cops, make sure Ashley was safe, etcetera, etcetera.”
Sherry just stared at him. What the fuck was Jacob doing in her room?
“Nice view, boss.” he said, staring right up at her. Her legs were still raised in the air, her bare nether region exposed. She thought she should maybe cover up, but decided, why not let the perv get a view? Closest someone like him would ever get to her!
Jacob tore his pants off. “Glad you could save it for me.”
“Never tell anybody about this.” Sherry found herself hissing.
“You got it, boss.”
She looked down to see Jacob’s monster member growing before her eyes. She threw her head back and moaned. Maybe she could have sex with him after all? What’s the worst that could happen? Not like she’d been able to do much without him…
“Hurry up! You better be able to get me off in this damn horny body!”
A thick, meaty hand grabbed her ankle and pulled her along the bed. Then she felt a peculiar sensation of something big touching a hole that she had never felt before…
Of course she had felt that before, what was she thinking?
An alien sensation burst through her in little waves as Jacob’s dick entered her. She squeezed her eyes shut, concentrating on the sensation that bore through every nerve in her body.
“It feels so good!” she screamed, “and-what-the-fuck-it-feels-so-weird!”
Jacob began thrusting into her. He grabbed her arms and held them down on either side of her. All she could do was gasp as the sensations overwhelmed her body. In out in out in out.
Jacob grunted. “You like that old man? You like that Sherry?”
“Yes! Yes!”
“Fuck both of you! I’m the fucking king! What did either of you do tonight for the mission? What have you ever done for me!”
“No- nothing!”
“You like being made a little bitch, don’t you Gordon? Don’t you Sherry!”
Gordon? What the fuck was he talking about? But Sherry didn’t care, she let out a scream.
“Yes! Yes! Fuck me Jacob!”
“Cum like you haven’t had sex in a decade, old man!”
“Twenty five years! This is.. My first time… in twenty five years!”
Sherry was talking nonsense, but who cared? Her eyes rolled back in her head. She saw white. Every muscle in her body spasmed, every nerve cried out, she felt a wave slam into her mind, her fists clenched, her toes kicked, her whole body seized up, Jacob’s dick pulsating inside her, spurting deep into her body!
“OH GOOOOODDDDDD”
She collapsed back onto her bed. Jacob pulled out, and they quickly fell asleep.
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The next morning, Jacob was having a coffee outside the control room when Gordon, his old body looking tired and sore, grumbled his way out of the sleeping quarters.
“I don’t want to hear a fucking word.”
Jacob smirked, and that was that.
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Hey /r/newyoubodyswap! As the title suggests, I am a 23-year-old woman who just a few months ago, was living life as a 27-year-old man. This transformation has been made possible by the NewYou body swap service. The platform leverages neuralink technology to let transgender individuals experience life in a body that aligns with their gender identity. Ask me anything!
Hey /r/newyoubodyswap! As the title suggests, I am a 23-year-old woman who just a few months ago, was living life as a 27-year-old man. This transformation has been made possible by the NewYou body swap service. The platform leverages neuralink technology to let transgender individuals experience life in a body that aligns with their gender identity.
To put it simply, NewYou essentially bridges two bodies, transmitting sensations and motor commands between the two neuralink implants. It's a form of technological telepathy, I suppose, which allows each of us to live within the other's body.
I took the plunge a couple of months ago, opting to swap bodies with a wonderful trans man who was seeking the same sense of alignment that I was. After several medical and psychological assessments, we both decided to proceed, undergoing the surgical procedure to have the neuralink implants put in place. We then began the process of acclimating to our new bodies.
It's been a surreal, challenging, and ultimately rewarding experience. I am living life as a woman now, something I had yearned for, for as long as I can remember. This service has allowed me to be me, fully and unabashedly.
Now, I know a lot of you may have questions about this process and what it’s like living in a different body. I'm here, ready and willing to share my experience, hoping it may be helpful to those who are considering a similar journey. AMA!
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Could you tell us about the differences between your new body and old one?
Absolutely, I'd be happy to elaborate. The differences are quite stark, both physically and emotionally.
Physically, the changes are noticeable in every aspect. My new body is shorter and smaller in stature compared to my old one. My skin is softer, and I've noticed the change in my hair texture as well. The body shape is entirely different, featuring curves where there were none before. I'm also getting used to the lack of facial and body hair, which is a pleasant change for me.
The sensory experiences are also very different. I've noticed that smells and tastes seem somewhat amplified, which took some adjusting. Physically, I feel lighter and more agile. The hormonal changes have also affected my emotional state quite a bit. I tend to feel emotions more intensely than before, which has been an enlightening experience.
One thing that took some getting used to was the different strengths. I'm not as physically strong as I used to be, which was a bit of a surprise at first. Even everyday tasks like opening jars or moving furniture took some adjusting.
On the inside, it's hard to explain, but I just feel more aligned, more 'me'. It's like I've been wearing a mask my entire life, and I've finally taken it off. It's truly liberating. And, of course, experiencing life as a woman brings with it a host of societal and cultural differences that I'm still navigating.
Overall, I'm incredibly grateful for this experience. It's been challenging but also so rewarding. I finally feel comfortable in my own skin.
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It must have been odd to go from what, 6’ to 5’2”?
Absolutely, it took some getting used to for sure! The change in height and proportions was particularly striking, and led to a few amusing (and mildly embarrassing) incidents.
One day, about three weeks after the swap, I was at the supermarket doing some grocery shopping. It was the same store I'd always shopped at, and I was so used to just reaching out and grabbing things from the shelves. I was going about my shopping as usual, when I reached the aisle with canned goods. I saw a can of soup I wanted that was, unfortunately, sitting on the top shelf.
Without thinking much of it, I reached up to grab the can, as I always had. But, to my surprise, my hand found nothing but air. I looked up, perplexed, and realized the top shelf was now well out of my reach.
Standing there, looking at that can of soup like it was the Holy Grail, I felt a little foolish. I glanced around, half-expecting to see people pointing and laughing. Instead, I saw a fellow shopper looking at me with a knowing smile. He was tall, and without a word, he reached up and handed me the can of soup. He simply said, "I got you," and walked away.
I must have stood there, blushing, for a good minute before I finally moved on. The experience was a reality check for me, underscoring just how much my world had changed, literally and figuratively. It was a small, somewhat silly moment, but it was significant in helping me realize the ways in which I would have to adapt to my new body and its capabilities.
So yes, while it's been an adjustment, these little moments have also made me appreciate my new reality in ways I hadn't anticipated. It's a learning experience, and I'm enjoying the journey.
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What's it like to have guys hit on you now?
Oh man, that’s a whole different ball game! I've had my share of cringe-worthy moments, believe me.
The first time it happened, I was at a café, minding my own business, when this dude walked over. He starts off with, "Are you a magician? Because whenever I look at you, everyone else disappears." I'm not gonna lie, I thought he was trying to sell me something at first, so I just blinked at him and then looked around like I was trying to find the hidden cameras. It was only when he sat down that it clicked, and I was like, "Oh...oh!"
Honestly, it's a bit weird. Like, I appreciate a good compliment as much as the next person, but the over-the-top, cheesy pick-up lines? Those are something else. And then there's the whole etiquette around who pays for meals, holding doors open, all that stuff. It's like learning a whole new social dance.
Don't get me wrong, though, there's a certain charm to it too. The little kindnesses, when genuine, can be very sweet. And I’ve had a lot of fun gently letting down the ones who just don’t get the hint.
But yeah, it’s definitely a new and sometimes awkward experience. I’m still getting the hang of it. So, to all the guys out there, remember: cheese is great on pizza, not so much in your pick-up lines! ;)
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Does everybody know you used to be a dude, or are you kind of stealth?
That's a great question. The truth is, it's a bit of both. My close friends and family, of course, are all aware of my transition. They've been wonderfully supportive and understanding throughout this whole process. As for everyone else, it really depends on the situation and the person.
I do want to clarify that using terms like 'used to be a dude' can be a little oversimplified for many of us in the trans community. While I understand the spirit of the question, I like to think of it as 'I've always been a woman, but I was in a male body before.' Language matters, as it helps shape our understanding and attitudes!
Back to your question, though: in casual interactions, I don't generally bring it up unless it's relevant or I feel comfortable enough to share. It's not exactly a secret, but it's also not the first thing I share about myself.
Online, it's a different story. As you can tell from this AMA, I'm pretty open about my experiences. I believe that sharing these stories can help build understanding and empathy. But I'm also aware that privacy is important, and not every trans person may feel comfortable or safe to be as open.
So yeah, I guess you could say I'm semi-stealth. It's a balancing act, and one that I'm still figuring out as I go along. Like everything else in this process, it's a journey! And one that I’m glad to be on.
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So since it's a neuralink thing, does that mean you're technically still in your original body, and just being sort of broadcast into the new one? Like, if the girl you swapped with got your old body drunk, would it affect you?
So, it's not quite a full upload, more like a continuous live stream of consciousness between the two bodies.
To make it clearer, both my original body and my new one have Neuralink implants. These implants communicate constantly, sending and receiving signals between the two bodies. When I say "I'm in a new body," it's because I'm experiencing all the sensory input and motor control from this female body, all the time. My old body is essentially being piloted remotely in the same way, by my swap partner.
The ‘would I get drunk’ question is a bit harder. I think I would? I’m actually not sure exactly. They did tell us not to do anything like that. All the sensations, including ones like hunger, tiredness, etc, are transferred, so I think the sensation of being drunk would be to – that is, if my original body was drunk, I wouldn’t feel it, but I think the alcohol would still affect my brain processing? Like, the chemicals are still in there, interfering with whatever thoughts the neuralink isn’t adjusting back to baseline me. Just a guess, really.
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What was the first week of being a girl like? I'm thinking about signing up myself, but I'm a bit nervous.
The first week was a whirlwind, no doubt about it. Excitement, confusion, nerves - all mixed into one crazy cocktail. But, I have to say, it's been the best decision I ever made, despite the challenges.
Waking up for the first time in my new body was a surreal experience. Imagine waking up one morning and you're not just in a different bed, but in a different body. I was shorter now, and definitely felt it – I kept bumping into things and everything in my apartment seemed weirdly big. I had to throw out almost all of my clothes too. I kept one big jacket that I loved, but now it hangs practically down to my knees when I wear it haha.
My new body was previously owned by a trans man, so it was initially very masculine in appearance. He'd kept the hair short, and I had hair everywhere else too. Apart from being only 5’2” tall, he was basically passing. It was a strange middle ground, looking down and seeing a female body that was so much more masculine than I'd expected, like the opposite of my own body lol
The first thing I did, once I got over the initial dizziness and giddy disbelief, was to take a long, hard look at myself in the mirror. I remember running my fingers through the short hair, touching my smooth cheeks. I remember flexing my arms and giggling at how tiny they looked. Obvious spent a long time getting used to my boobs and vagina. I loved wearing really tight pants for a while afterwards and looking down and just… flat.
Re-feminizing the body was a process. My skin was different, so my makeup came out basically looking like a clown at first. I was so excited the first time I went shopping in my new body the sales girl didn’t know what to do with me. She kinda gave me a judgemental frown the whole time I was there which honestly I loved. Sounds weird, but it was like, she was judging me like a girl judges a girl? I don’t know if that makes sense.
I was pretty bad to be first tbh. I didn’t know my proportions, and the clothes I tried on were all kind of ill fitting and honestly, way too revealing. But I was revealing in it, you know! I wish I'd taken more pictures.
Working on my physique was another task altogether. I started doing more cardio, less weights, to get a softer, more feminine figure. Seeing the changes week after week was a really powerful motivator. It made the whole experience feel more real, and it was incredibly rewarding to see my reflection in the mirror become more and more the woman I felt inside.
Hope this helps you a bit with your decision. Feel free to ask any other questions you may have. Good luck on your journey, wherever it may lead!
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Did you ever meet your original body again?
I certainly did! It was about two months after the swap, once we had both gotten somewhat used to our new bodies. We had agreed to meet up, both out of curiosity and to see how the other was adjusting. It was one of the strangest and most enlightening experiences of my life.
I remember walking into the café where we'd agreed to meet and seeing him - or rather, seeing my old body, sitting there in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. It was bizarre seeing myself from the outside, like watching some kind of strange doppelgänger.
The first thing he said when he saw me was, "Wow, you really went all out, didn't you?" I'd dressed up a bit for the meeting - a tasteful dress, some light makeup, and yes, a pair of modest high heels. I'd even managed to coax my growing hair into a somewhat elegant style.
I'll never forget the look on his face as he took in the changes - a mix of amazement, amusement, and a touch of shock. He laughed and shook his head, saying, "I would have never thought to see this body in heels."
We had a good laugh about that. It was a moment of shared understanding - we'd both lived in these bodies, and we both knew the strange, surreal journey we were on. There was something comforting in that shared experience.
It was also a poignant reminder of the drastic changes we were each making to adapt to our new bodies. For him, it was about embracing the masculine physique he'd always wanted, while for me, it was about bringing out the femininity I'd always felt.
So yes, seeing my old body again was an experience, to say the least. It was strange, funny, and a little bittersweet, but I wouldn't change it for anything. It's all part of this incredible journey I've embarked upon.
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What’s the most unexpected thing about being female?
I'd have to say it's the grip strength. I had been prepared for a lot of the differences, but that one took me by surprise.
It's the weirdest thing, like my hands just don't work the same way they used to. I remember the first time I really noticed it. I was trying to open a jar of pickles and it just... wouldn't budge. I tried and tried, my hand wrapped around the lid, the tiny muscles straining in my forearm. And nothing.
I remember staring at my hand, this delicate, slender thing with neat, short nails. The wrist was thin, the knuckles less pronounced than I remembered. It was like my hand was a doll's hand, dainty and pretty, but lacking the raw strength I was used to.
I won't lie, it was a bit of a blow to my ego. I used to pride myself on my grip strength. I was the jar-opener of the house, the go-to person for stubborn bottle caps. And now, I was staring at this jar of pickles like it was an unsolvable puzzle.
But you know what? After a moment of sulking, I just laughed it off. I found a rubber band, wrapped it around the lid for extra grip, and voila - open jar of pickles.
I guess it's just one of those things you don't really think about until you're in the situation. But, as with everything else in this journey, it's about adapting and overcoming. So now, I keep a rubber band in the kitchen drawer and I've started doing some grip strength exercises.
I might not have the same brute strength I used to have, but I'm learning to navigate this world in a different way. And there's something really empowering about that. It's a daily reminder of the woman I've become, and every time I open a jar, it's a tiny victory. Plus, the pickles taste pretty good too! ;)
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Have you had sex yet? What did it feel like? How was it different?
I have, aha, and it was goooood. I mean, weird, but good. When you’re a guy it’s more concentrated in your dick right? As a girl it’s more spread out, warm and inside. To be honest, I never really liked having sex when I had a male body, so that’s probably part of it, but it was so much more enjoyable as a girl. It’s slower, more difficult to orgasm, but my whole body gets hot and I have a kind of shaky feeling now that I never used to? Also the orgasm itself lasts so much longer than before! It’s like stomach, leg, mind, everything all at once.
The other difference was just being less in control? Like, I had this odd sensation when I was being thrown around and moved about by my boyfriend in a way that I couldn’t have been before, and he really loved teasing me about it – holding me down in ways he couldn’t before, because I used to be bigger than him, haha.
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What was it like choosing your new outfits and things for the first time?
Ah, the first shopping trip. Now that was a trip in more ways than one.
When I first decided to go shopping for new clothes, I was a ball of nerves and excitement. I had this mental checklist of all the feminine clothing items I'd always admired but never had the chance to wear - dresses, skirts, blouses, you name it.
But the biggest revelation was definitely the shoes. Oh my gosh, the shoes.
As a guy, I had pretty large feet and finding stylish shoes that fit was always a struggle. Now, in my new body, my feet were comparatively tiny. The first time I stepped into a shoe store, I was gobsmacked. All these shoes, in all these styles, and they all actually FIT.
I remember sitting there, a pair of cute flats in one hand and a stylish heel in the other, just marveling at the fact that they were my size. The sleek curves of the heel, the delicate design of the flats - these were things I'd always admired from afar, and now they were mine to wear.
Slipping my foot into a heel for the first time was like stepping into a new world. The way it changed my posture, made me stand taller, the confident click-clack they made on the floor. It felt powerful in a way I hadn't anticipated.
And then came the challenge of walking in them. I won't lie, I was wobbly as a newborn deer at first. But after some practice (and a few hilarious missteps), I started getting the hang of it. Now, I can strut around in those babies like a runway model - well, a runway model on her first day, maybe.
But shoes were just the beginning. Dresses, skirts, jeans that actually fit - it was like stepping into a whole new world of fashion, and I was eager to explore it all. It was a journey of self-discovery and self-expression, and I'm still riding that wave.
As overwhelming as it was at first, I wouldn't trade those moments for anything. Every time I slip into a pair of heels, it's a reminder of how far I've come, and how much further I still have to go on this journey of mine. And let me tell you, I'm excited to see where it takes me. So here's to the road ahead - may it be as fabulous as my shoe collection!
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Do you ever get dressed up and just admire being a woman?
So about a month in, I decided to treat myself. I'd seen this stunning dress in a boutique window - knee-length, black, with a plunging neckline and an open back. It was a bold piece, the kind of thing that demands attention and confidence. I wasn't sure if I was ready for that, but I figured why not? I was embarking on a new life, and I wanted to experience it all.
Trying it on was...an experience. At first, I was a bit self-conscious. I mean, it was more revealing than anything I'd ever worn before. But as I pulled the zipper up and looked at myself in the full-length mirror, something amazing happened.
I saw a woman staring back at me. Not just any woman - but me, as a woman. The dress hugged my curves, accentuated the softness of my new figure. The open back was elegant, daring, and the neckline...well, let's just say it made the most of what I had.
I remember turning this way and that, watching how the fabric shimmered under the lights. I ran a hand down my side, marveling at the softness of my skin, the slender line of my waist. And for the first time since the swap, I felt...well, hot.
I know that sounds vain, but it was an incredible feeling. After years of feeling uncomfortable in my own skin, of not recognizing the person in the mirror, I finally felt at home. I was finally seeing the person I'd always felt I was, inside and out.
I bought the dress right then and there, and wore it out of the boutique. Strutting down the sidewalk, head high, I felt on top of the world. I won't say I didn't get a few stares - but for the first time in my life, I didn't mind. I was proud of who I was, proud of the journey I'd taken to get here.
And that dress? It's still hanging in my closet, a constant reminder of the woman I've become. It's a symbol of my transformation, a testament to my courage, and the best impulse buy I've ever made.
Hey /r/newyoubodyswap! As the title suggests, I am a 23-year-old woman who just a few months ago, was living life as a 27-year-old man. This transformation has been made possible by the NewYou body swap service. The platform leverages neuralink technology to let transgender individuals experience life in a body that aligns with their gender identity.
To put it simply, NewYou essentially bridges two bodies, transmitting sensations and motor commands between the two neuralink implants. It's a form of technological telepathy, I suppose, which allows each of us to live within the other's body.
I took the plunge a couple of months ago, opting to swap bodies with a wonderful trans man who was seeking the same sense of alignment that I was. After several medical and psychological assessments, we both decided to proceed, undergoing the surgical procedure to have the neuralink implants put in place. We then began the process of acclimating to our new bodies.
It's been a surreal, challenging, and ultimately rewarding experience. I am living life as a woman now, something I had yearned for, for as long as I can remember. This service has allowed me to be me, fully and unabashedly.
Now, I know a lot of you may have questions about this process and what it’s like living in a different body. I'm here, ready and willing to share my experience, hoping it may be helpful to those who are considering a similar journey. AMA!
__________________________
Could you tell us about the differences between your new body and old one?
Absolutely, I'd be happy to elaborate. The differences are quite stark, both physically and emotionally.
Physically, the changes are noticeable in every aspect. My new body is shorter and smaller in stature compared to my old one. My skin is softer, and I've noticed the change in my hair texture as well. The body shape is entirely different, featuring curves where there were none before. I'm also getting used to the lack of facial and body hair, which is a pleasant change for me.
The sensory experiences are also very different. I've noticed that smells and tastes seem somewhat amplified, which took some adjusting. Physically, I feel lighter and more agile. The hormonal changes have also affected my emotional state quite a bit. I tend to feel emotions more intensely than before, which has been an enlightening experience.
One thing that took some getting used to was the different strengths. I'm not as physically strong as I used to be, which was a bit of a surprise at first. Even everyday tasks like opening jars or moving furniture took some adjusting.
On the inside, it's hard to explain, but I just feel more aligned, more 'me'. It's like I've been wearing a mask my entire life, and I've finally taken it off. It's truly liberating. And, of course, experiencing life as a woman brings with it a host of societal and cultural differences that I'm still navigating.
Overall, I'm incredibly grateful for this experience. It's been challenging but also so rewarding. I finally feel comfortable in my own skin.
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It must have been odd to go from what, 6’ to 5’2”?
Absolutely, it took some getting used to for sure! The change in height and proportions was particularly striking, and led to a few amusing (and mildly embarrassing) incidents.
One day, about three weeks after the swap, I was at the supermarket doing some grocery shopping. It was the same store I'd always shopped at, and I was so used to just reaching out and grabbing things from the shelves. I was going about my shopping as usual, when I reached the aisle with canned goods. I saw a can of soup I wanted that was, unfortunately, sitting on the top shelf.
Without thinking much of it, I reached up to grab the can, as I always had. But, to my surprise, my hand found nothing but air. I looked up, perplexed, and realized the top shelf was now well out of my reach.
Standing there, looking at that can of soup like it was the Holy Grail, I felt a little foolish. I glanced around, half-expecting to see people pointing and laughing. Instead, I saw a fellow shopper looking at me with a knowing smile. He was tall, and without a word, he reached up and handed me the can of soup. He simply said, "I got you," and walked away.
I must have stood there, blushing, for a good minute before I finally moved on. The experience was a reality check for me, underscoring just how much my world had changed, literally and figuratively. It was a small, somewhat silly moment, but it was significant in helping me realize the ways in which I would have to adapt to my new body and its capabilities.
So yes, while it's been an adjustment, these little moments have also made me appreciate my new reality in ways I hadn't anticipated. It's a learning experience, and I'm enjoying the journey.
___________________________
What's it like to have guys hit on you now?
Oh man, that’s a whole different ball game! I've had my share of cringe-worthy moments, believe me.
The first time it happened, I was at a café, minding my own business, when this dude walked over. He starts off with, "Are you a magician? Because whenever I look at you, everyone else disappears." I'm not gonna lie, I thought he was trying to sell me something at first, so I just blinked at him and then looked around like I was trying to find the hidden cameras. It was only when he sat down that it clicked, and I was like, "Oh...oh!"
Honestly, it's a bit weird. Like, I appreciate a good compliment as much as the next person, but the over-the-top, cheesy pick-up lines? Those are something else. And then there's the whole etiquette around who pays for meals, holding doors open, all that stuff. It's like learning a whole new social dance.
Don't get me wrong, though, there's a certain charm to it too. The little kindnesses, when genuine, can be very sweet. And I’ve had a lot of fun gently letting down the ones who just don’t get the hint.
But yeah, it’s definitely a new and sometimes awkward experience. I’m still getting the hang of it. So, to all the guys out there, remember: cheese is great on pizza, not so much in your pick-up lines! ;)
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Does everybody know you used to be a dude, or are you kind of stealth?
That's a great question. The truth is, it's a bit of both. My close friends and family, of course, are all aware of my transition. They've been wonderfully supportive and understanding throughout this whole process. As for everyone else, it really depends on the situation and the person.
I do want to clarify that using terms like 'used to be a dude' can be a little oversimplified for many of us in the trans community. While I understand the spirit of the question, I like to think of it as 'I've always been a woman, but I was in a male body before.' Language matters, as it helps shape our understanding and attitudes!
Back to your question, though: in casual interactions, I don't generally bring it up unless it's relevant or I feel comfortable enough to share. It's not exactly a secret, but it's also not the first thing I share about myself.
Online, it's a different story. As you can tell from this AMA, I'm pretty open about my experiences. I believe that sharing these stories can help build understanding and empathy. But I'm also aware that privacy is important, and not every trans person may feel comfortable or safe to be as open.
So yeah, I guess you could say I'm semi-stealth. It's a balancing act, and one that I'm still figuring out as I go along. Like everything else in this process, it's a journey! And one that I’m glad to be on.
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So since it's a neuralink thing, does that mean you're technically still in your original body, and just being sort of broadcast into the new one? Like, if the girl you swapped with got your old body drunk, would it affect you?
So, it's not quite a full upload, more like a continuous live stream of consciousness between the two bodies.
To make it clearer, both my original body and my new one have Neuralink implants. These implants communicate constantly, sending and receiving signals between the two bodies. When I say "I'm in a new body," it's because I'm experiencing all the sensory input and motor control from this female body, all the time. My old body is essentially being piloted remotely in the same way, by my swap partner.
The ‘would I get drunk’ question is a bit harder. I think I would? I’m actually not sure exactly. They did tell us not to do anything like that. All the sensations, including ones like hunger, tiredness, etc, are transferred, so I think the sensation of being drunk would be to – that is, if my original body was drunk, I wouldn’t feel it, but I think the alcohol would still affect my brain processing? Like, the chemicals are still in there, interfering with whatever thoughts the neuralink isn’t adjusting back to baseline me. Just a guess, really.
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What was the first week of being a girl like? I'm thinking about signing up myself, but I'm a bit nervous.
The first week was a whirlwind, no doubt about it. Excitement, confusion, nerves - all mixed into one crazy cocktail. But, I have to say, it's been the best decision I ever made, despite the challenges.
Waking up for the first time in my new body was a surreal experience. Imagine waking up one morning and you're not just in a different bed, but in a different body. I was shorter now, and definitely felt it – I kept bumping into things and everything in my apartment seemed weirdly big. I had to throw out almost all of my clothes too. I kept one big jacket that I loved, but now it hangs practically down to my knees when I wear it haha.
My new body was previously owned by a trans man, so it was initially very masculine in appearance. He'd kept the hair short, and I had hair everywhere else too. Apart from being only 5’2” tall, he was basically passing. It was a strange middle ground, looking down and seeing a female body that was so much more masculine than I'd expected, like the opposite of my own body lol
The first thing I did, once I got over the initial dizziness and giddy disbelief, was to take a long, hard look at myself in the mirror. I remember running my fingers through the short hair, touching my smooth cheeks. I remember flexing my arms and giggling at how tiny they looked. Obvious spent a long time getting used to my boobs and vagina. I loved wearing really tight pants for a while afterwards and looking down and just… flat.
Re-feminizing the body was a process. My skin was different, so my makeup came out basically looking like a clown at first. I was so excited the first time I went shopping in my new body the sales girl didn’t know what to do with me. She kinda gave me a judgemental frown the whole time I was there which honestly I loved. Sounds weird, but it was like, she was judging me like a girl judges a girl? I don’t know if that makes sense.
I was pretty bad to be first tbh. I didn’t know my proportions, and the clothes I tried on were all kind of ill fitting and honestly, way too revealing. But I was revealing in it, you know! I wish I'd taken more pictures.
Working on my physique was another task altogether. I started doing more cardio, less weights, to get a softer, more feminine figure. Seeing the changes week after week was a really powerful motivator. It made the whole experience feel more real, and it was incredibly rewarding to see my reflection in the mirror become more and more the woman I felt inside.
Hope this helps you a bit with your decision. Feel free to ask any other questions you may have. Good luck on your journey, wherever it may lead!
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Did you ever meet your original body again?
I certainly did! It was about two months after the swap, once we had both gotten somewhat used to our new bodies. We had agreed to meet up, both out of curiosity and to see how the other was adjusting. It was one of the strangest and most enlightening experiences of my life.
I remember walking into the café where we'd agreed to meet and seeing him - or rather, seeing my old body, sitting there in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. It was bizarre seeing myself from the outside, like watching some kind of strange doppelgänger.
The first thing he said when he saw me was, "Wow, you really went all out, didn't you?" I'd dressed up a bit for the meeting - a tasteful dress, some light makeup, and yes, a pair of modest high heels. I'd even managed to coax my growing hair into a somewhat elegant style.
I'll never forget the look on his face as he took in the changes - a mix of amazement, amusement, and a touch of shock. He laughed and shook his head, saying, "I would have never thought to see this body in heels."
We had a good laugh about that. It was a moment of shared understanding - we'd both lived in these bodies, and we both knew the strange, surreal journey we were on. There was something comforting in that shared experience.
It was also a poignant reminder of the drastic changes we were each making to adapt to our new bodies. For him, it was about embracing the masculine physique he'd always wanted, while for me, it was about bringing out the femininity I'd always felt.
So yes, seeing my old body again was an experience, to say the least. It was strange, funny, and a little bittersweet, but I wouldn't change it for anything. It's all part of this incredible journey I've embarked upon.
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What’s the most unexpected thing about being female?
I'd have to say it's the grip strength. I had been prepared for a lot of the differences, but that one took me by surprise.
It's the weirdest thing, like my hands just don't work the same way they used to. I remember the first time I really noticed it. I was trying to open a jar of pickles and it just... wouldn't budge. I tried and tried, my hand wrapped around the lid, the tiny muscles straining in my forearm. And nothing.
I remember staring at my hand, this delicate, slender thing with neat, short nails. The wrist was thin, the knuckles less pronounced than I remembered. It was like my hand was a doll's hand, dainty and pretty, but lacking the raw strength I was used to.
I won't lie, it was a bit of a blow to my ego. I used to pride myself on my grip strength. I was the jar-opener of the house, the go-to person for stubborn bottle caps. And now, I was staring at this jar of pickles like it was an unsolvable puzzle.
But you know what? After a moment of sulking, I just laughed it off. I found a rubber band, wrapped it around the lid for extra grip, and voila - open jar of pickles.
I guess it's just one of those things you don't really think about until you're in the situation. But, as with everything else in this journey, it's about adapting and overcoming. So now, I keep a rubber band in the kitchen drawer and I've started doing some grip strength exercises.
I might not have the same brute strength I used to have, but I'm learning to navigate this world in a different way. And there's something really empowering about that. It's a daily reminder of the woman I've become, and every time I open a jar, it's a tiny victory. Plus, the pickles taste pretty good too! ;)
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Have you had sex yet? What did it feel like? How was it different?
I have, aha, and it was goooood. I mean, weird, but good. When you’re a guy it’s more concentrated in your dick right? As a girl it’s more spread out, warm and inside. To be honest, I never really liked having sex when I had a male body, so that’s probably part of it, but it was so much more enjoyable as a girl. It’s slower, more difficult to orgasm, but my whole body gets hot and I have a kind of shaky feeling now that I never used to? Also the orgasm itself lasts so much longer than before! It’s like stomach, leg, mind, everything all at once.
The other difference was just being less in control? Like, I had this odd sensation when I was being thrown around and moved about by my boyfriend in a way that I couldn’t have been before, and he really loved teasing me about it – holding me down in ways he couldn’t before, because I used to be bigger than him, haha.
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What was it like choosing your new outfits and things for the first time?
Ah, the first shopping trip. Now that was a trip in more ways than one.
When I first decided to go shopping for new clothes, I was a ball of nerves and excitement. I had this mental checklist of all the feminine clothing items I'd always admired but never had the chance to wear - dresses, skirts, blouses, you name it.
But the biggest revelation was definitely the shoes. Oh my gosh, the shoes.
As a guy, I had pretty large feet and finding stylish shoes that fit was always a struggle. Now, in my new body, my feet were comparatively tiny. The first time I stepped into a shoe store, I was gobsmacked. All these shoes, in all these styles, and they all actually FIT.
I remember sitting there, a pair of cute flats in one hand and a stylish heel in the other, just marveling at the fact that they were my size. The sleek curves of the heel, the delicate design of the flats - these were things I'd always admired from afar, and now they were mine to wear.
Slipping my foot into a heel for the first time was like stepping into a new world. The way it changed my posture, made me stand taller, the confident click-clack they made on the floor. It felt powerful in a way I hadn't anticipated.
And then came the challenge of walking in them. I won't lie, I was wobbly as a newborn deer at first. But after some practice (and a few hilarious missteps), I started getting the hang of it. Now, I can strut around in those babies like a runway model - well, a runway model on her first day, maybe.
But shoes were just the beginning. Dresses, skirts, jeans that actually fit - it was like stepping into a whole new world of fashion, and I was eager to explore it all. It was a journey of self-discovery and self-expression, and I'm still riding that wave.
As overwhelming as it was at first, I wouldn't trade those moments for anything. Every time I slip into a pair of heels, it's a reminder of how far I've come, and how much further I still have to go on this journey of mine. And let me tell you, I'm excited to see where it takes me. So here's to the road ahead - may it be as fabulous as my shoe collection!
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Do you ever get dressed up and just admire being a woman?
So about a month in, I decided to treat myself. I'd seen this stunning dress in a boutique window - knee-length, black, with a plunging neckline and an open back. It was a bold piece, the kind of thing that demands attention and confidence. I wasn't sure if I was ready for that, but I figured why not? I was embarking on a new life, and I wanted to experience it all.
Trying it on was...an experience. At first, I was a bit self-conscious. I mean, it was more revealing than anything I'd ever worn before. But as I pulled the zipper up and looked at myself in the full-length mirror, something amazing happened.
I saw a woman staring back at me. Not just any woman - but me, as a woman. The dress hugged my curves, accentuated the softness of my new figure. The open back was elegant, daring, and the neckline...well, let's just say it made the most of what I had.
I remember turning this way and that, watching how the fabric shimmered under the lights. I ran a hand down my side, marveling at the softness of my skin, the slender line of my waist. And for the first time since the swap, I felt...well, hot.
I know that sounds vain, but it was an incredible feeling. After years of feeling uncomfortable in my own skin, of not recognizing the person in the mirror, I finally felt at home. I was finally seeing the person I'd always felt I was, inside and out.
I bought the dress right then and there, and wore it out of the boutique. Strutting down the sidewalk, head high, I felt on top of the world. I won't say I didn't get a few stares - but for the first time in my life, I didn't mind. I was proud of who I was, proud of the journey I'd taken to get here.
And that dress? It's still hanging in my closet, a constant reminder of the woman I've become. It's a symbol of my transformation, a testament to my courage, and the best impulse buy I've ever made.
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Andrew Moon, is your average joe, though one day something horrible happened, the night he discovers his girlfriend had cheated on him. He decides to go away, feeling depressed, he finds himself in a sticky situation where he's offered a choice, Upon meeting the mysterious woman named Raven she pulls him away and into a strange world filled with Gods and monsters.
Chapter 1: A Deal with a God
Andrew couldn’t believe his eyes as he stood in his tiny bedroom, his eyes watering while holding the bottle of champagne. He had the bottle in one hand and two glasses while he looked over at his girlfriend, a woman he had loved for over five years. Today was supposed to be their fifth anniversary. He was looking at her with only a single question on his mind.
“Tammy, why?” He muttered, finding the bottle heavy in his hand while looking at the woman.
“Andy, It’s not what you think!” Tammy said as she tried covering herself up. The person next to her gave a wide smirk, the kind an asshole does when they think they did something funny when all they did was made themselves look more like an asshole.
The person next to Tammy looked like a woman, yet at the same time, not a woman, short crude cut haircut with one side shaved off while having an obnoxious red dye on the side; while they leaned back, there was the patch job beard growing like they were still trying to grow it out. Andrew wasn’t sure what to say when he found his legs wobbling.
“Then what is it then? You’re both naked in bed, and they’re …” He felt his eyes burning as he thought off the tears reminding himself Men don’t cry, we don’t… He felt angry when he looked back and noticed more. The person was wearing a strap-on, and he felt his grip on the bottle tightening as he wasn’t sure how he felt. Andrew wanted to say something or do something when he asked next.
“Who is she?” He tried not to growl, trying his hardest to keep his voice leveled and cooled. While the person gave him a dirty look the moment Andrew said she.
“His names are Max and Andy, and I know them from work,” Tammy said while she spoke up, while Max there smiled at her while moving in, pawing Tammy like they were a teenager on prom night.
“Don’t do that.” Andrew snapped, not happy to see what was going on.
“Or what?” Max spoke while looking back, seeming like they were trying to look bigger than they were. If anything, Tammy might have had fifty pounds over them, while Andrew, a more hefty man, clearly could have picked them up like they were nothing.
Andrew imagined he’d tell Max there he’d kick their ass, but the way he raised, he wouldn’t do that; it would’ve been a cold threat, as he kept holding onto the bottle, trying to hold back his temper. Don’t lose your Temper, Andy. It’ll get you in trouble.
“Tammy, how could you? I— I love you. I was going to.” He looked down and saw the slight bulge in his pocket, the bulge holding a ring as he planned to ask her to marry him. Though at this point, that wasn’t going to happen. Not anymore.
“You were never around Andy, you’re always working, and when you weren’t, you just slept most of the day.”
“I worked night Tammy; you know that; I was helping my parents, I was helping you go through school. I have to sleep sometimes, and I thought you understood this!” Andrew said, not realizing his voice was getting louder; he felt his spine tightening as a fire grew in his stomach. A harsh deep breath while Tammy spoke up.
“I’m sorry, An—“
“Don’t call me that; you have no right.” Andrew interrupted Tammy right then as he felt his other hand tightening into a fist while Max raised his voice,
“Hey, don’t talk to her like that!” Max spoke up, sounding like they were trying to make their voice deeper but still hadn’t got the hang of it.
“First off fuck off; this is between her and me, so get your ass out of my bed! Second, maybe the fact she cheated on me with a woman. I have the right to be a bit fucking angry!” Andrew spoke up as he found his heart speeding up and started getting worked up. Tammy suddenly responded.
“Max is a man, Andrew; you should be using him!”
“I don’t think that the biggest issue here, Tammy! Maybe you should cut me some slack in this situation since, well, this! You’re not in a position to tell me what I can and can’t do!”
This made Andrew raise his voice even louder, his heart feeling like it was close to shattering,
“Why didn’t you just break up with me, or I don’t know, not cheat on me!” He spoke more from the heart, but he was screaming at this point while Tammy sat there; maybe there was shame in her eyes, or it could have been contempt, but Andrew couldn’t tell all he knew was he was saying red.
“Maybe if you weren’t such a shitty boyfriend, she wouldn’t have done something like this,” Max spoke up, the smugness in his voice as Andrew had to use every ounce of strength not to try and kill them. He was holding back everything as he felt pure hatred.
“I’m leaving, and when I come back, I want the both of you out of my fucking apartment!” Andrew said, as without warning, he took the bottle of champagne and chucked it as far as he could. The sound of glass shattering while Andrew turned around, entered his pockets and walked away. He had to do something to get his mind off what he had witnessed.
“Andy, get back here! We’re not done yet!” Tammy called out, giving a shrill scream as her nose bunched up, but Andrew ignored him, walking away, never looking back.
-000-
When Andrew left his apartment, he walked off to the nearest bar and wasn’t going to drive; he didn’t trust himself behind the wheel right then. He took long deep breaths as he tried to calm himself. Yet every time he tried, Andrew found himself getting angry. He wanted to go back, scream at them more, do something. Yet those thoughts scared him as he kept pushing those feelings down.
“I need a drink; I just… Why did she do this to me?” He hated himself as he made a turn into the closes bar. A small dive with the sigh, Jack’s legends. He walked in, trying his best to keep calm and not show weakness, as he moved to the bartender and quickly ordered a beer.
The bartender watched him for a second. The stone-cold expression on his face as he reached under the counter, handing him a beer while he turned around to get back to work.
Andrew sat there for a second. Taking a long drink, letting the bitter taste go down his throat as he put the beer down. The place had a live band, as he looked over. They weren’t that good, though Andrew wasn’t exactly a music critic. Still, if he had a guess, they were a tribute band. What tribute band? Well, Andrew wasn’t sure; the microphone somehow managed to drown out the terrible singing.
So Andrew sat there alone, drinking his beer. Then he had another one, then another, and another one. Throughout the night, Andrew kept sucking down the long-neck bottles like they were going out of style. Throughout the night, he continued drinking, trying to get rid of his sorrow, but the more he drank, the more pain he felt as he heard a voice in his head.
It was soft at first, telling him that he needed to go back there yelling at him, then it got louder telling him things that a sober version of him would have been horrified to hear.
It only got worse, but the voice told him, come on, pal, take another drink. Just another one; I’m sure you’ll feel better after that. He finished another beer when he said to the bartender,
“Another one, pal.” His voice sounded slur, as he barely kept his eyes open—the sadness in his voice as he looked like a complete mess.
The bartender looked at him for a short second while shaking his head,
“You’re done, pal. Get some water.” The bartender dropped a glass of water for him, “Now drink up and go home.” The man spoke while watching him. The bartender had seen plenty of people like this, the heartbroken. He didn’t need the kid’s story to see it, but the way he was guzzling down beers, the bartender knew that it must have just happened.
Andrew didn’t like this, as he pushed the water away, “No, I want another beer!” he dropped his card down, but the man behind the counter shook his head, pushing the card back at him.
The bouncer came over, having the feeling there was trouble. “Not going to take your money, now drink the water and get out of here, your way over the limit.” He kept his voice calm while looking above Andrew’s head, his eyes on the bouncer.
“No, I can handle my drinking now. Just give me the fucking beer.” Andrew moaned, clearly swaying side to side.
“I’m sorry, but by law, I won’t be; now, this nice man will call you a cab. Where do you live?” The bartender spoke professionally but also carefully. He thought he saw a flash of killer intent in the drunken haze. If Andrew didn’t get sobered up, he might do something he might regret.
Andrew was itching for a fight, his mind wanting something to take away the pain, though with how drunk Andrew was at the time. The bouncer moved in a large man, who grabbed his shoulder. Though Andrew, not thinking much too drunk to even care, turned around and threw a fist at the more prominent man. The bouncer just moved out of the way a couple of steps causing Andrew to fall over landing on the ground.
Andrew lay there a couple of minutes before. Finally, the bouncer picked him up, tossing him right out the window. A quick grunt as Andrew landed outside the bar looking over at the bouncer.
“Hey, I ain’t done there yet; I need another drink!” He called out while stumbling around though the bouncer shook his head.
“Just go; you’re done for the night, got it, pal? Sober your ass up.” The bouncer shook his head, finding Andrew looked pathetic as he headed right back inside, not saying much, while the drunken man spat on the ground,
“I don’t need you, and I can go find another drink myself!” Andrew screamed to the heavens, not caring who heard him as he began stumbling off into the cold city, A city that didn’t care if he lived or died, A town that had no mercy for him as he would drunkenly head off.
-000-
Andrew walked for some time, and his body straightened out as he slowly sobered up; though it was clear he was still drunk like any skunk, he looked up at his apartment complex. Looking at the place, he decided to make his way inside. However, he wouldn’t go to his apartment.
No, not there; he didn’t want to be alone in that place as he climbed up to the roof. He stumbled his way up as he closed the door behind him. Andrew just let out a long grunt as he saw his cold breath. It seemed like the days only got colder as he panted.
“When will it ever get warmer? It’s always fucking cold.” He spoke out, the bitterness in his voice as he looked off. Wishing he could do something, hoping he could take back what dignity Tammy had stolen from him. He reached down into his pocket while looking at the ring box. His blood boiling as he looked to the city and let out another scream calling out,
“Fuck you, Tammy, go to hell!” He found himself throwing the ring box as far as he could. Wherever it landed, Andrew didn’t care; he didn’t care about anything at this point, only wanting to let out his hatred. He fell, stumbling as he looked over the edge.
“Why am I even alive?” He muttered to himself, his anger seeming to leave him feeling self-pity while he watched the edge, hearing a small voice; we could jump. Who would even notice Tammy cheated on us? That voice, the one lodged deep within him, sounded so tempting, like a mistress calling a lover as he looked to the side.
Come on, Andrew baby, it’s just a leap, and this pain your feeling it’s all over. Come on and just jump; it’s your ultimate fuck you. She wants to leave you, okay? It's blood on her hands. He looked at the edge, that voice so tempting as he felt his heart slowing down. While he looked at it, he muttered,
“Would anyone miss me? What do I have to live for?” Andrew started reaching over, putting one leg over the railing right over the other, as he found himself stumbling over and there. Andrew Moon began to fall into the great darkness.
That was when without warning, Andrew began falling, his adrenaline shot through him as if he was just injected in the arm, and he screamed. His body hits the end of one of the flag poles, holding the American flag. He screamed in horror while realizing what was happening.
“No! Not this way!” It was as if the real him had taken over as he felt horror run over himself, realizing what he had done. Flashes of his family came over him as he looked down, seeing how far the ground was. It only made him scream even louder,
“Shit, Shit! This isn’t good. I don’t want to die.” Andrew tried to pull himself up but found it did nothing as his arms wobbled. Andrew held on for dear life. His eyes widened while looking around. He saw the window across from him,
“Hey, open the window! Open your damn window. I’m going to fall!” he screamed his loudest yet found no one answering him. While he looked around, he saw if there might be someone that might be able to help him in his moment of need.
“I see you need some help.” A voice soft and calm spoke, which caught Andrew’s attention.
He looked straight up; someone was sitting on the pole. She sat there like it was nothing as Andrew looked up. She was wearing a black leather jacket and long jeans and had short red hair; her arms were crossed behind her back like she wasn’t sitting on a pole high in the air while Andrew looked at her, the fear in his now sober eyes.
“Yes, can you help me please oh god, please help me!” He wasn’t sure if this was a part of his imagination or if she was there. His hands slipped while the woman smirked,
“Well, sure, I’ll give you a hand, but you must do something for me.” She spoke with a near-southern twang as she bobbed her head back and forth, nodding like a part of her was elsewhere.
“Anything. Please get me out of here; I don’t want to die,” Andrew muttered, his hands feeling like they were slipping as he used every ounce of strength to try and hold on. The mysterious woman seemed to watch him with a light smirk.
“You’ll do anything, huh? Are you sure about it? I can be a bit demanding.” She spoke simply enough while swaying her legs around like she was trying to be playful. But Andrew barely noticed this.
“Yes, I’ll do anything, just please; I don’t want to die! I want to live!” he cried for help as he felt a hand slip. Looking down, Andrew found himself screaming in complete terror while watching his life flash before his eyes. Seeing past friends seeing his parents, and wondering what would happen to all of them if he died made him want to live even more.
“Well, I suppose I can, but you must promise to repay your debt.” The woman spoke as she seemed to look down at him. Her foot dangling down near where his hand had once been. Andrew tried reaching over to grab it, but he could barely do that. As he tried pulling himself up when he heard a snapping sound.
“Alright, I’ll save you, and remember, you better keep your end of the deal.” Then without warning, He heard the woman snap her fingers.
“By the way, my name is….”
But before Andrew could hear her name, he began to fall, and with it, he would scream, falling into the darkness of the black city. But as he fell, he heard soft giggling.
-000-
Without warning, Andrew felt his head shooting up as he found himself covered in sweat; a rough scream escaped his lips for a minute as he soon reached over, covering his mouth as he felt pain shooting through his head,
“Gah! What… what the?” He moaned out, rubbing his head. He felt the effects of his hangover ravaging his mind while he closed his eyes shut.
“I have to stop drinking.” He mumbled under his breath while he reached over, “Tammy, are you there? Could you get me some aspirin?” There was no response, as he found the unnerving silence.
“Tammy, are you there?” Andrew muttered while he pulled himself up. That was when he realized something and He wasn’t in his room— No, he was no longer in his apartment as he looked around his new location.
The room was something, a giant golden chandelier hanging over them, the way the crystals shimmered over him. The bed was quite something as if it was meant to hold more than two people, heck he imagined that it could have given people and still left room for one person. In contrast, as he looked over, the rest of the room reminded him of one of those fancy ballrooms, the kind typically reserved for the rich.
“What did I do last night?” Slowly he began remembering some of it. Remembering the fight with Tammy when he caught her cheating on him. “Oh god… what did I do?” He muttered, feeling like he was about to get sick. A slight bit of vomit was coming for him as he pulled back, managing to swallow the bile as he began getting out of bed.
He looked around, realizing he was standing in his underwear, as Andrew groaned, trying to figure out how he got in this bed. But somehow, Andrew imagined it would cost him more than he could afford.
“Maybe I should sneak out or something?” Andrew grumbled to himself, trying to find where his pants might have been. He stopped for a second as he finally noticed one of the walls filled with various weapons. Andrew couldn’t help but admire them. As he walked over, there were spears and swords, which looked quite intriguing.
“Heh, this is neat. Whoever owns these has quite the taste.” While he looked around for a second, he was alone when he had an idea. He reached over, grabbing one of the spears as he held it for a second, admiring its weight. He stood there posing. His eyes were on the full-boy mirror on the other side of the room as he looked at himself.
“This is pretty cool.” Andrew joked while he stood in his underwear, holding a spear like a Spartan ready for battle. “Though admittedly, I look a bit goofy.” He chuckled, laughing at himself while he looked at the mirror seeing himself.
Andrew was just an average-looking guy, a bit leaner, with bits of muscles mainly focused on his arms and legs, while the rest of him looked skinny. A five o’clock shadow grew on his face, with dark rings around his eyes. If he cleaned up, he might have examined alright, but he looked like complete shit.
“I have to agree you do look a little goofy.” This caught Andrew off guard. He felt like he was about to jump out of his skin as he turned around to see who it was. There he saw her.
The woman standing there, with short red hair, wearing white silk lingerie with a bright million-dollar smile, as she walked in walking with great confidence. Her hips swayed back and forth. Andrew could say she was in great shape—the sight of her muscles. Andrew could almost imagine she could lift him with no trouble as she stopped before him.
“I see you’re interested in my spear there, Andrew.” The woman said as she caressed Andrew’s hand, caressing it as she would take the spear from him.
“I mean, it’s a pretty nice spear; where’d you get something like that.”
“Oh, it’s nothing, just a part of a vast collection, though some call it the Spear of Destiny. Took me a while to find something like that.” She spoke in a calm way that showed she was the one in control. Andrew looked at her for a minute; eyebrow raised as he chuckled,
“That's the Spear of Destiny?” He could barely believe that while the woman nodded,
“Oh yes, Andrew, it is, it took some time to find it, but I managed to get my hand on it. A wonderful thing to collect along with the others on my wall.” The mysterious woman started to walk across the wall, slowly gliding her hands over the various weapons.
“Take this sword, and it’s a special one once said to be owned by Attila the Hun, the Sword of Mar’s.” She smiled, pulling the blade off, admiring the curved edge as she swung it for a second. Andrew watched, not sure what to say, as he stepped away.
“Um, I hate to be a bother, but who are you?” He asked while he kept an eye on the blade. He didn’t want to anger the woman with a sword in her hand.
“Oh, don’t you remember I told you it last night?” The woman spoke as she put the blade back onto the wall, letting Andrew sigh in relief before quickly responding to her.
“Last night was a blur. Would it be possible that you could remind me?” That wasn’t a lie, and he couldn’t remember much at the moment, hoping that maybe he’ll gain his memory back at a later time. As the woman walked over. Her Silken Lingerie exposed her ample bosom just a bit as she leaned in,
“Well, I think it’ll be fair to tell you my name again, Andrew… Can I call you Andy?” She said her finger circled his chest. He bit his lips, unsure what to say, and shook his head.
“I think Andrews is fine for now.” He said, trying to keep himself in control. While she nodded,
“Well, If you insist, Andrew, but please call me Raven, If you must. Now I do think we should get you something to eat. After that fall you had last night, you must be starving.”
She smirked, caressing his cheek. Andrew was both uncomfortable but liked how she moved her hard against his chin, like a lover. However, he pulled back from her hand.
“Fall? What are you—“ He found flashes of memory hit him like a train crashing into a bug. It obliterated as he grabbed his head, screaming in pain, as he began remembering his fall, how he hit the pole, and then the woman—the woman who just called herself Raven. Andrew tumbled around, grabbing the mirror for support as he looked back.
“What… what in the!” He was trying to find the right words while he looked back at the woman.
“You… You let me fall or…” his voice trailed off, remembering the fall and how he screamed, oh god, how he cried and the horror of it. Then there was nothing, no splat. It was like something had carried him off. But the idea of him splatting made him shiver.
“No, I saved you, but I had to do something also. Now come on, my dear, breakfast should be ready. You’ve got clothes In the drawers for you.” She pointed over as Andrew looked over and noticed the dresser beside him. It hadn’t been there before; he was sure of it.
“Maybe I just didn’t notice it before. I’ve got such a hangover.” He moved over, opening the drawers, where he saw a pair of pants and a t-shirt as he moved to put them on. He even found his wallet in the other drawer, as he put it away, wondering where he was. But who is this Raven? What is she?
Andrew couldn’t help but wonder if This Raven was even human. He followed behind her as she started walking down the corridor. Her hips swayed back and forth as he looked at her.
“So, how did you save me? Who are you, If you don’t mind me asking?” Andrew wondered while he managed to catch up to her.
The walls were lined with art, each depicting battles from history, while some showed Milly pitcher as she filled a cannon. He continued walking,
“Oh, I’m sorry, you’re wondering who I am; well, no reason to hide it from you.” She smirked as her hand waved over, as the doors at the end of the hall began to open.
“I am a Goddess, Andrew, If you must ask.” She spoke with such a simple thing. Now, Andrew might have questioned that as he shook his head,
“A goddess? I mean…” Andrew seemed more stumped while she smirked.
“Why yes, I guess you could consider me an American Goddess. Every country has its pantheon, and I’m one of America’s gods.”
“America… Has gods? I thought….”
“What Christianity, Catholic, Or Baptist? Oh, Heavens, I’m afraid most get it wrong; there is no singular god; that's too much power for one being, omnipotent and omniscient. It would drive someone mad; no, many Gods and goddesses exist worldwide. Every culture has a pantheon.” Raven spoke more, walking through the dining room. They weren’t alone now as Andrew saw people moving around, filling the table, as he groaned. Soon one of them walked over, handing him a couple of pills.
“For your head, master.” The woman spoke; Andrew took them but found himself almost jumping back. The woman had snakes instead of hair on her head. Green scales instead of skin as she walked off.
“Um… What was that?” He asked, watching the woman walk away, and soon realized she didn’t have legs. She was slithering away.
“She’s a Naga, a cousin of the medusa’s though she’s more like a diamondback rattlesnake, so be careful. Her name is Marry.” Raven spoke with a light chuckle as Andrew watched the other woman heading off.
“Um, good to know… So, there is a snake woman, and… Other gods? But who are the others if you are just one of America’s gods?”
“Oh, a few are running around, I’m certain; some hang out with the old Gods, some are doing their job, and others are messing around with mortals like you.” She smirked as she took a seat. The strings from her top moved down her shoulders, giving Andrew a peak.
“Alright, um, so Where Am I? Is this like Heaven or something?”
“Oh no, not in Heaven; you’re still alive, and a living soul can’t go there; your mind wouldn’t be able to handle it; no, you’re in one of my homes, around the united states.”
“One of your homes?” Andrew asked though he found that the more he asked, the more questions he had for Raven the Goddess.
“Well, I have a few places I need to be, though this is where I frequent, it’s pretty lovely, But please, this is going to be our home now.” She teased while she snapped her fingers; more people came in workers. But Andrew wondered if they were also Naga’s, but he could barely tell they went by so fast as they laid down their breakfast. He looked down, seeing what was placed before him.
“I hope you don’t mind. I picked what I imagined you would enjoy, Andrew.” She spoke while Andrew watched his food.
“This is pretty good, but something is bothering me.”
“Oh, and what's that?” Raven asked, leaning forward and giving him another glimpse of her pale bosom.
“Well, a few of them was why you visited me; why would a God want with me at all? I’m no one, but… Well, you said you’re a Goddess, but what kind of Goddess are you anyway? I mean, how come I never heard of you? No one ever spoke about America’s Gods?”
Raven seemed to smile, liking what she heard. She reached down, taking one of the crisp pieces of bacon, which Andrew thought looked burnt.
“Please have a bite; I’m sure you’ll enjoy it. I’ll be answering your questions in due time. But I can answer some of the easier ones. I’m the Goddess of Strength and War. The very concept of those itself. As for why we American Gods don’t reveal ourselves, we are far too busy to deal with the mere mortals; sure, we take your prayers and wants, but we also have our work to do.” She spoke straight to the point while moving to take a long drink of something red. Andrew couldn’t help but think it was wine.
“But we pay attention to what you say and do; some of us are stronger than others. I know I’m more blessed than others. Whenever there is war, I feel stronger, as most war gods do; when our lands declare war on something, It’s like we are receiving prayers. Now America, we are a country of war. Drug War, Race War, and War on other countries. It’s like a battery, and it fuels me and influences me. Sure, we have peace. Yet War… War is eternal; it’s what built this nation. I’m America’s first god, even if they don’t know it.” She continued speaking there while Andrew watched her.
“I am the strength of America itself as well; these two concepts, The strongest fact of this country. While I said there are other gods, some as strong, the god of Poverty, the Goddess of Lust and death, We are sometimes born and formed. But we exist, and humans like you, well… you give us as much life as we bless you.” She smirked while Andrew watched his mouth drop.
“I— It… So much.” He muttered while Raven chuckled,
“Please eat, it’ll take your mind off that for now, but I’m sure I can answer some of your other questions as the time comes.” Andrew would do just that taking a bite out of the bacon first before moving on to the sausage and eggs, and they were quiet good, he had to admit, yet at the same time he found himself stuffing his face.
He continued munching over while looking at the woman claiming that she was a war god, but he found himself wondering more, as he slowed down.
“So, again, you never answered this, what debt do I owe you?”
Raven smirked while she took another bite, letting the sausage move past those succulent lips as she took a bite and looked to him.
“Well, You owe me your life, since I saved your life, you in fact owe me your life. I intend you to pay me back.” Raven smiled as she continued eating the breakfast. Andrew on the other hand wasn’t sure how of this.
“So are you going to sacrafice me, or have me kill someone else? Cause I won’t kill someone else.” Though a flash of Tammy, and that Max fellow, had popped into his head while he felt anger bursting through his skull, as he grabbed his head.
Raven though watched him for a second as she suddenly burst’s into a fit of laughter, that made Andrew wonder what he said that was so funny.
“What’s so funny?” He asked quickly, while Raven continued giggling.
“Oh the thought that you think I would sacrifice you, how silly is that, if I was going to sacrifice you why in the world would I even save your life. No, just no. I have plans for you and not to have someone kill you. You owe me your life not your death. No I have something more important in mind.”
Raven pushed the chair back as she got up, her hips swaying as she walked to the other side of the table looking at him. Those eyes, it was the first time he noticed them, they were red, like pure blood, as she watched him with a sort of hunger. The kind animals on the hunt had when they found the perfect prayer. It didn’t help him with his feeling that she was going to sacrifice him.
“So If you’re not going to sacrifice me then what do you want?” Andrew asked not even sure what to say while he looked at the War Goddess, who smirked as she leaned in.
“I want you to marry me.” She said simply her hand touching the table as she glided her hand around as a box appeared, in fact it was the same box that he tossed the other night, as she opened it revealing the gold band.
“In exchange for saving your life you must become my husband, from now untill the day you die.” She said with a wide grin, like a cat. Andrew watched her for a second not sure what to say, yet went for the first word that came to his head.
“Wait what?!” He muttered out as he looked at the goddess holding the box, and on one knee before him.
“Marry me simple as that, in exchange for you to live, you become my husband. So what do you say?” Raven said as she looked him in the eyes. Those blood red eyes. As he sat there stunned not even sure if he could say yes or no, and worst of all, what if he does say no what would she do.
“What… What would me become your husband do for me? I mean what would I have to do?” He asked, though Raven smile vanished as she looked almost annoyed.
“Humans, always curious and wondering, it’s both your most fascinating and annoying features you’ve developed. But if you want to know. You Becoming my husband would be simple.”
Raven stood up, and from the position they were, she looked like a giant. It was quiet something as she walked around him.
“But if you must know, as my husband you will be required to be a good husband, try not to cause me any trouble, Give me at least one or two kids, like any normal couple. You also can’t embarrass me in front of the other gods.”
Raven moved in her finger under his chin, lifting his head,
“Do you understand that. I think its a fair deal, you’re life, and you become my husband, it’ll be simple.” She said while Andrew looked at her for a minute, seeing there wasn’t any downsides.
“Sure, I’ll marry you, but I really don’t know you. I mean… Yes.” He said while Raven nodded,
“Good, we’ll have the ceremony in about a week understand. I want us to be married as soon as possible. But as one of my top gods I’ll need witnesses from people in my pantheon. Do you understand that.” Raven spoke with that wild smile. Andrew nodded understanding what she meant, Though a thought came other him.
“What about my parents… My family? Will they be ok?”
“They’ll be fine, I know a couple of gods that I’m sure will look out for them, though you won’t be able to see them again.” Almost like pulling it out from air, Raven brought out a newspaper, and showed it. Andrew looked into it, where he saw it an obituary, reading,
Andrew Moon (Andy) Died age twenty-seven leaving behind his parents and girlfriend. He died in the early hours of the morning death by suicide. His funeral will be held at the St. Francis Funeral home in New charlise. Where he will be buried.
To the world Andrew Moon was dead, but for Andrew Moon his life was only begining. Weather he knew it or not, He was about to begin a new chapter in his life.
Chapter 1: A Deal with a God
Andrew couldn’t believe his eyes as he stood in his tiny bedroom, his eyes watering while holding the bottle of champagne. He had the bottle in one hand and two glasses while he looked over at his girlfriend, a woman he had loved for over five years. Today was supposed to be their fifth anniversary. He was looking at her with only a single question on his mind.
“Tammy, why?” He muttered, finding the bottle heavy in his hand while looking at the woman.
“Andy, It’s not what you think!” Tammy said as she tried covering herself up. The person next to her gave a wide smirk, the kind an asshole does when they think they did something funny when all they did was made themselves look more like an asshole.
The person next to Tammy looked like a woman, yet at the same time, not a woman, short crude cut haircut with one side shaved off while having an obnoxious red dye on the side; while they leaned back, there was the patch job beard growing like they were still trying to grow it out. Andrew wasn’t sure what to say when he found his legs wobbling.
“Then what is it then? You’re both naked in bed, and they’re …” He felt his eyes burning as he thought off the tears reminding himself Men don’t cry, we don’t… He felt angry when he looked back and noticed more. The person was wearing a strap-on, and he felt his grip on the bottle tightening as he wasn’t sure how he felt. Andrew wanted to say something or do something when he asked next.
“Who is she?” He tried not to growl, trying his hardest to keep his voice leveled and cooled. While the person gave him a dirty look the moment Andrew said she.
“His names are Max and Andy, and I know them from work,” Tammy said while she spoke up, while Max there smiled at her while moving in, pawing Tammy like they were a teenager on prom night.
“Don’t do that.” Andrew snapped, not happy to see what was going on.
“Or what?” Max spoke while looking back, seeming like they were trying to look bigger than they were. If anything, Tammy might have had fifty pounds over them, while Andrew, a more hefty man, clearly could have picked them up like they were nothing.
Andrew imagined he’d tell Max there he’d kick their ass, but the way he raised, he wouldn’t do that; it would’ve been a cold threat, as he kept holding onto the bottle, trying to hold back his temper. Don’t lose your Temper, Andy. It’ll get you in trouble.
“Tammy, how could you? I— I love you. I was going to.” He looked down and saw the slight bulge in his pocket, the bulge holding a ring as he planned to ask her to marry him. Though at this point, that wasn’t going to happen. Not anymore.
“You were never around Andy, you’re always working, and when you weren’t, you just slept most of the day.”
“I worked night Tammy; you know that; I was helping my parents, I was helping you go through school. I have to sleep sometimes, and I thought you understood this!” Andrew said, not realizing his voice was getting louder; he felt his spine tightening as a fire grew in his stomach. A harsh deep breath while Tammy spoke up.
“I’m sorry, An—“
“Don’t call me that; you have no right.” Andrew interrupted Tammy right then as he felt his other hand tightening into a fist while Max raised his voice,
“Hey, don’t talk to her like that!” Max spoke up, sounding like they were trying to make their voice deeper but still hadn’t got the hang of it.
“First off fuck off; this is between her and me, so get your ass out of my bed! Second, maybe the fact she cheated on me with a woman. I have the right to be a bit fucking angry!” Andrew spoke up as he found his heart speeding up and started getting worked up. Tammy suddenly responded.
“Max is a man, Andrew; you should be using him!”
“I don’t think that the biggest issue here, Tammy! Maybe you should cut me some slack in this situation since, well, this! You’re not in a position to tell me what I can and can’t do!”
This made Andrew raise his voice even louder, his heart feeling like it was close to shattering,
“Why didn’t you just break up with me, or I don’t know, not cheat on me!” He spoke more from the heart, but he was screaming at this point while Tammy sat there; maybe there was shame in her eyes, or it could have been contempt, but Andrew couldn’t tell all he knew was he was saying red.
“Maybe if you weren’t such a shitty boyfriend, she wouldn’t have done something like this,” Max spoke up, the smugness in his voice as Andrew had to use every ounce of strength not to try and kill them. He was holding back everything as he felt pure hatred.
“I’m leaving, and when I come back, I want the both of you out of my fucking apartment!” Andrew said, as without warning, he took the bottle of champagne and chucked it as far as he could. The sound of glass shattering while Andrew turned around, entered his pockets and walked away. He had to do something to get his mind off what he had witnessed.
“Andy, get back here! We’re not done yet!” Tammy called out, giving a shrill scream as her nose bunched up, but Andrew ignored him, walking away, never looking back.
-000-
When Andrew left his apartment, he walked off to the nearest bar and wasn’t going to drive; he didn’t trust himself behind the wheel right then. He took long deep breaths as he tried to calm himself. Yet every time he tried, Andrew found himself getting angry. He wanted to go back, scream at them more, do something. Yet those thoughts scared him as he kept pushing those feelings down.
“I need a drink; I just… Why did she do this to me?” He hated himself as he made a turn into the closes bar. A small dive with the sigh, Jack’s legends. He walked in, trying his best to keep calm and not show weakness, as he moved to the bartender and quickly ordered a beer.
The bartender watched him for a second. The stone-cold expression on his face as he reached under the counter, handing him a beer while he turned around to get back to work.
Andrew sat there for a second. Taking a long drink, letting the bitter taste go down his throat as he put the beer down. The place had a live band, as he looked over. They weren’t that good, though Andrew wasn’t exactly a music critic. Still, if he had a guess, they were a tribute band. What tribute band? Well, Andrew wasn’t sure; the microphone somehow managed to drown out the terrible singing.
So Andrew sat there alone, drinking his beer. Then he had another one, then another, and another one. Throughout the night, Andrew kept sucking down the long-neck bottles like they were going out of style. Throughout the night, he continued drinking, trying to get rid of his sorrow, but the more he drank, the more pain he felt as he heard a voice in his head.
It was soft at first, telling him that he needed to go back there yelling at him, then it got louder telling him things that a sober version of him would have been horrified to hear.
It only got worse, but the voice told him, come on, pal, take another drink. Just another one; I’m sure you’ll feel better after that. He finished another beer when he said to the bartender,
“Another one, pal.” His voice sounded slur, as he barely kept his eyes open—the sadness in his voice as he looked like a complete mess.
The bartender looked at him for a short second while shaking his head,
“You’re done, pal. Get some water.” The bartender dropped a glass of water for him, “Now drink up and go home.” The man spoke while watching him. The bartender had seen plenty of people like this, the heartbroken. He didn’t need the kid’s story to see it, but the way he was guzzling down beers, the bartender knew that it must have just happened.
Andrew didn’t like this, as he pushed the water away, “No, I want another beer!” he dropped his card down, but the man behind the counter shook his head, pushing the card back at him.
The bouncer came over, having the feeling there was trouble. “Not going to take your money, now drink the water and get out of here, your way over the limit.” He kept his voice calm while looking above Andrew’s head, his eyes on the bouncer.
“No, I can handle my drinking now. Just give me the fucking beer.” Andrew moaned, clearly swaying side to side.
“I’m sorry, but by law, I won’t be; now, this nice man will call you a cab. Where do you live?” The bartender spoke professionally but also carefully. He thought he saw a flash of killer intent in the drunken haze. If Andrew didn’t get sobered up, he might do something he might regret.
Andrew was itching for a fight, his mind wanting something to take away the pain, though with how drunk Andrew was at the time. The bouncer moved in a large man, who grabbed his shoulder. Though Andrew, not thinking much too drunk to even care, turned around and threw a fist at the more prominent man. The bouncer just moved out of the way a couple of steps causing Andrew to fall over landing on the ground.
Andrew lay there a couple of minutes before. Finally, the bouncer picked him up, tossing him right out the window. A quick grunt as Andrew landed outside the bar looking over at the bouncer.
“Hey, I ain’t done there yet; I need another drink!” He called out while stumbling around though the bouncer shook his head.
“Just go; you’re done for the night, got it, pal? Sober your ass up.” The bouncer shook his head, finding Andrew looked pathetic as he headed right back inside, not saying much, while the drunken man spat on the ground,
“I don’t need you, and I can go find another drink myself!” Andrew screamed to the heavens, not caring who heard him as he began stumbling off into the cold city, A city that didn’t care if he lived or died, A town that had no mercy for him as he would drunkenly head off.
-000-
Andrew walked for some time, and his body straightened out as he slowly sobered up; though it was clear he was still drunk like any skunk, he looked up at his apartment complex. Looking at the place, he decided to make his way inside. However, he wouldn’t go to his apartment.
No, not there; he didn’t want to be alone in that place as he climbed up to the roof. He stumbled his way up as he closed the door behind him. Andrew just let out a long grunt as he saw his cold breath. It seemed like the days only got colder as he panted.
“When will it ever get warmer? It’s always fucking cold.” He spoke out, the bitterness in his voice as he looked off. Wishing he could do something, hoping he could take back what dignity Tammy had stolen from him. He reached down into his pocket while looking at the ring box. His blood boiling as he looked to the city and let out another scream calling out,
“Fuck you, Tammy, go to hell!” He found himself throwing the ring box as far as he could. Wherever it landed, Andrew didn’t care; he didn’t care about anything at this point, only wanting to let out his hatred. He fell, stumbling as he looked over the edge.
“Why am I even alive?” He muttered to himself, his anger seeming to leave him feeling self-pity while he watched the edge, hearing a small voice; we could jump. Who would even notice Tammy cheated on us? That voice, the one lodged deep within him, sounded so tempting, like a mistress calling a lover as he looked to the side.
Come on, Andrew baby, it’s just a leap, and this pain your feeling it’s all over. Come on and just jump; it’s your ultimate fuck you. She wants to leave you, okay? It's blood on her hands. He looked at the edge, that voice so tempting as he felt his heart slowing down. While he looked at it, he muttered,
“Would anyone miss me? What do I have to live for?” Andrew started reaching over, putting one leg over the railing right over the other, as he found himself stumbling over and there. Andrew Moon began to fall into the great darkness.
That was when without warning, Andrew began falling, his adrenaline shot through him as if he was just injected in the arm, and he screamed. His body hits the end of one of the flag poles, holding the American flag. He screamed in horror while realizing what was happening.
“No! Not this way!” It was as if the real him had taken over as he felt horror run over himself, realizing what he had done. Flashes of his family came over him as he looked down, seeing how far the ground was. It only made him scream even louder,
“Shit, Shit! This isn’t good. I don’t want to die.” Andrew tried to pull himself up but found it did nothing as his arms wobbled. Andrew held on for dear life. His eyes widened while looking around. He saw the window across from him,
“Hey, open the window! Open your damn window. I’m going to fall!” he screamed his loudest yet found no one answering him. While he looked around, he saw if there might be someone that might be able to help him in his moment of need.
“I see you need some help.” A voice soft and calm spoke, which caught Andrew’s attention.
He looked straight up; someone was sitting on the pole. She sat there like it was nothing as Andrew looked up. She was wearing a black leather jacket and long jeans and had short red hair; her arms were crossed behind her back like she wasn’t sitting on a pole high in the air while Andrew looked at her, the fear in his now sober eyes.
“Yes, can you help me please oh god, please help me!” He wasn’t sure if this was a part of his imagination or if she was there. His hands slipped while the woman smirked,
“Well, sure, I’ll give you a hand, but you must do something for me.” She spoke with a near-southern twang as she bobbed her head back and forth, nodding like a part of her was elsewhere.
“Anything. Please get me out of here; I don’t want to die,” Andrew muttered, his hands feeling like they were slipping as he used every ounce of strength to try and hold on. The mysterious woman seemed to watch him with a light smirk.
“You’ll do anything, huh? Are you sure about it? I can be a bit demanding.” She spoke simply enough while swaying her legs around like she was trying to be playful. But Andrew barely noticed this.
“Yes, I’ll do anything, just please; I don’t want to die! I want to live!” he cried for help as he felt a hand slip. Looking down, Andrew found himself screaming in complete terror while watching his life flash before his eyes. Seeing past friends seeing his parents, and wondering what would happen to all of them if he died made him want to live even more.
“Well, I suppose I can, but you must promise to repay your debt.” The woman spoke as she seemed to look down at him. Her foot dangling down near where his hand had once been. Andrew tried reaching over to grab it, but he could barely do that. As he tried pulling himself up when he heard a snapping sound.
“Alright, I’ll save you, and remember, you better keep your end of the deal.” Then without warning, He heard the woman snap her fingers.
“By the way, my name is….”
But before Andrew could hear her name, he began to fall, and with it, he would scream, falling into the darkness of the black city. But as he fell, he heard soft giggling.
-000-
Without warning, Andrew felt his head shooting up as he found himself covered in sweat; a rough scream escaped his lips for a minute as he soon reached over, covering his mouth as he felt pain shooting through his head,
“Gah! What… what the?” He moaned out, rubbing his head. He felt the effects of his hangover ravaging his mind while he closed his eyes shut.
“I have to stop drinking.” He mumbled under his breath while he reached over, “Tammy, are you there? Could you get me some aspirin?” There was no response, as he found the unnerving silence.
“Tammy, are you there?” Andrew muttered while he pulled himself up. That was when he realized something and He wasn’t in his room— No, he was no longer in his apartment as he looked around his new location.
The room was something, a giant golden chandelier hanging over them, the way the crystals shimmered over him. The bed was quite something as if it was meant to hold more than two people, heck he imagined that it could have given people and still left room for one person. In contrast, as he looked over, the rest of the room reminded him of one of those fancy ballrooms, the kind typically reserved for the rich.
“What did I do last night?” Slowly he began remembering some of it. Remembering the fight with Tammy when he caught her cheating on him. “Oh god… what did I do?” He muttered, feeling like he was about to get sick. A slight bit of vomit was coming for him as he pulled back, managing to swallow the bile as he began getting out of bed.
He looked around, realizing he was standing in his underwear, as Andrew groaned, trying to figure out how he got in this bed. But somehow, Andrew imagined it would cost him more than he could afford.
“Maybe I should sneak out or something?” Andrew grumbled to himself, trying to find where his pants might have been. He stopped for a second as he finally noticed one of the walls filled with various weapons. Andrew couldn’t help but admire them. As he walked over, there were spears and swords, which looked quite intriguing.
“Heh, this is neat. Whoever owns these has quite the taste.” While he looked around for a second, he was alone when he had an idea. He reached over, grabbing one of the spears as he held it for a second, admiring its weight. He stood there posing. His eyes were on the full-boy mirror on the other side of the room as he looked at himself.
“This is pretty cool.” Andrew joked while he stood in his underwear, holding a spear like a Spartan ready for battle. “Though admittedly, I look a bit goofy.” He chuckled, laughing at himself while he looked at the mirror seeing himself.
Andrew was just an average-looking guy, a bit leaner, with bits of muscles mainly focused on his arms and legs, while the rest of him looked skinny. A five o’clock shadow grew on his face, with dark rings around his eyes. If he cleaned up, he might have examined alright, but he looked like complete shit.
“I have to agree you do look a little goofy.” This caught Andrew off guard. He felt like he was about to jump out of his skin as he turned around to see who it was. There he saw her.
The woman standing there, with short red hair, wearing white silk lingerie with a bright million-dollar smile, as she walked in walking with great confidence. Her hips swayed back and forth. Andrew could say she was in great shape—the sight of her muscles. Andrew could almost imagine she could lift him with no trouble as she stopped before him.
“I see you’re interested in my spear there, Andrew.” The woman said as she caressed Andrew’s hand, caressing it as she would take the spear from him.
“I mean, it’s a pretty nice spear; where’d you get something like that.”
“Oh, it’s nothing, just a part of a vast collection, though some call it the Spear of Destiny. Took me a while to find something like that.” She spoke in a calm way that showed she was the one in control. Andrew looked at her for a minute; eyebrow raised as he chuckled,
“That's the Spear of Destiny?” He could barely believe that while the woman nodded,
“Oh yes, Andrew, it is, it took some time to find it, but I managed to get my hand on it. A wonderful thing to collect along with the others on my wall.” The mysterious woman started to walk across the wall, slowly gliding her hands over the various weapons.
“Take this sword, and it’s a special one once said to be owned by Attila the Hun, the Sword of Mar’s.” She smiled, pulling the blade off, admiring the curved edge as she swung it for a second. Andrew watched, not sure what to say, as he stepped away.
“Um, I hate to be a bother, but who are you?” He asked while he kept an eye on the blade. He didn’t want to anger the woman with a sword in her hand.
“Oh, don’t you remember I told you it last night?” The woman spoke as she put the blade back onto the wall, letting Andrew sigh in relief before quickly responding to her.
“Last night was a blur. Would it be possible that you could remind me?” That wasn’t a lie, and he couldn’t remember much at the moment, hoping that maybe he’ll gain his memory back at a later time. As the woman walked over. Her Silken Lingerie exposed her ample bosom just a bit as she leaned in,
“Well, I think it’ll be fair to tell you my name again, Andrew… Can I call you Andy?” She said her finger circled his chest. He bit his lips, unsure what to say, and shook his head.
“I think Andrews is fine for now.” He said, trying to keep himself in control. While she nodded,
“Well, If you insist, Andrew, but please call me Raven, If you must. Now I do think we should get you something to eat. After that fall you had last night, you must be starving.”
She smirked, caressing his cheek. Andrew was both uncomfortable but liked how she moved her hard against his chin, like a lover. However, he pulled back from her hand.
“Fall? What are you—“ He found flashes of memory hit him like a train crashing into a bug. It obliterated as he grabbed his head, screaming in pain, as he began remembering his fall, how he hit the pole, and then the woman—the woman who just called herself Raven. Andrew tumbled around, grabbing the mirror for support as he looked back.
“What… what in the!” He was trying to find the right words while he looked back at the woman.
“You… You let me fall or…” his voice trailed off, remembering the fall and how he screamed, oh god, how he cried and the horror of it. Then there was nothing, no splat. It was like something had carried him off. But the idea of him splatting made him shiver.
“No, I saved you, but I had to do something also. Now come on, my dear, breakfast should be ready. You’ve got clothes In the drawers for you.” She pointed over as Andrew looked over and noticed the dresser beside him. It hadn’t been there before; he was sure of it.
“Maybe I just didn’t notice it before. I’ve got such a hangover.” He moved over, opening the drawers, where he saw a pair of pants and a t-shirt as he moved to put them on. He even found his wallet in the other drawer, as he put it away, wondering where he was. But who is this Raven? What is she?
Andrew couldn’t help but wonder if This Raven was even human. He followed behind her as she started walking down the corridor. Her hips swayed back and forth as he looked at her.
“So, how did you save me? Who are you, If you don’t mind me asking?” Andrew wondered while he managed to catch up to her.
The walls were lined with art, each depicting battles from history, while some showed Milly pitcher as she filled a cannon. He continued walking,
“Oh, I’m sorry, you’re wondering who I am; well, no reason to hide it from you.” She smirked as her hand waved over, as the doors at the end of the hall began to open.
“I am a Goddess, Andrew, If you must ask.” She spoke with such a simple thing. Now, Andrew might have questioned that as he shook his head,
“A goddess? I mean…” Andrew seemed more stumped while she smirked.
“Why yes, I guess you could consider me an American Goddess. Every country has its pantheon, and I’m one of America’s gods.”
“America… Has gods? I thought….”
“What Christianity, Catholic, Or Baptist? Oh, Heavens, I’m afraid most get it wrong; there is no singular god; that's too much power for one being, omnipotent and omniscient. It would drive someone mad; no, many Gods and goddesses exist worldwide. Every culture has a pantheon.” Raven spoke more, walking through the dining room. They weren’t alone now as Andrew saw people moving around, filling the table, as he groaned. Soon one of them walked over, handing him a couple of pills.
“For your head, master.” The woman spoke; Andrew took them but found himself almost jumping back. The woman had snakes instead of hair on her head. Green scales instead of skin as she walked off.
“Um… What was that?” He asked, watching the woman walk away, and soon realized she didn’t have legs. She was slithering away.
“She’s a Naga, a cousin of the medusa’s though she’s more like a diamondback rattlesnake, so be careful. Her name is Marry.” Raven spoke with a light chuckle as Andrew watched the other woman heading off.
“Um, good to know… So, there is a snake woman, and… Other gods? But who are the others if you are just one of America’s gods?”
“Oh, a few are running around, I’m certain; some hang out with the old Gods, some are doing their job, and others are messing around with mortals like you.” She smirked as she took a seat. The strings from her top moved down her shoulders, giving Andrew a peak.
“Alright, um, so Where Am I? Is this like Heaven or something?”
“Oh no, not in Heaven; you’re still alive, and a living soul can’t go there; your mind wouldn’t be able to handle it; no, you’re in one of my homes, around the united states.”
“One of your homes?” Andrew asked though he found that the more he asked, the more questions he had for Raven the Goddess.
“Well, I have a few places I need to be, though this is where I frequent, it’s pretty lovely, But please, this is going to be our home now.” She teased while she snapped her fingers; more people came in workers. But Andrew wondered if they were also Naga’s, but he could barely tell they went by so fast as they laid down their breakfast. He looked down, seeing what was placed before him.
“I hope you don’t mind. I picked what I imagined you would enjoy, Andrew.” She spoke while Andrew watched his food.
“This is pretty good, but something is bothering me.”
“Oh, and what's that?” Raven asked, leaning forward and giving him another glimpse of her pale bosom.
“Well, a few of them was why you visited me; why would a God want with me at all? I’m no one, but… Well, you said you’re a Goddess, but what kind of Goddess are you anyway? I mean, how come I never heard of you? No one ever spoke about America’s Gods?”
Raven seemed to smile, liking what she heard. She reached down, taking one of the crisp pieces of bacon, which Andrew thought looked burnt.
“Please have a bite; I’m sure you’ll enjoy it. I’ll be answering your questions in due time. But I can answer some of the easier ones. I’m the Goddess of Strength and War. The very concept of those itself. As for why we American Gods don’t reveal ourselves, we are far too busy to deal with the mere mortals; sure, we take your prayers and wants, but we also have our work to do.” She spoke straight to the point while moving to take a long drink of something red. Andrew couldn’t help but think it was wine.
“But we pay attention to what you say and do; some of us are stronger than others. I know I’m more blessed than others. Whenever there is war, I feel stronger, as most war gods do; when our lands declare war on something, It’s like we are receiving prayers. Now America, we are a country of war. Drug War, Race War, and War on other countries. It’s like a battery, and it fuels me and influences me. Sure, we have peace. Yet War… War is eternal; it’s what built this nation. I’m America’s first god, even if they don’t know it.” She continued speaking there while Andrew watched her.
“I am the strength of America itself as well; these two concepts, The strongest fact of this country. While I said there are other gods, some as strong, the god of Poverty, the Goddess of Lust and death, We are sometimes born and formed. But we exist, and humans like you, well… you give us as much life as we bless you.” She smirked while Andrew watched his mouth drop.
“I— It… So much.” He muttered while Raven chuckled,
“Please eat, it’ll take your mind off that for now, but I’m sure I can answer some of your other questions as the time comes.” Andrew would do just that taking a bite out of the bacon first before moving on to the sausage and eggs, and they were quiet good, he had to admit, yet at the same time he found himself stuffing his face.
He continued munching over while looking at the woman claiming that she was a war god, but he found himself wondering more, as he slowed down.
“So, again, you never answered this, what debt do I owe you?”
Raven smirked while she took another bite, letting the sausage move past those succulent lips as she took a bite and looked to him.
“Well, You owe me your life, since I saved your life, you in fact owe me your life. I intend you to pay me back.” Raven smiled as she continued eating the breakfast. Andrew on the other hand wasn’t sure how of this.
“So are you going to sacrafice me, or have me kill someone else? Cause I won’t kill someone else.” Though a flash of Tammy, and that Max fellow, had popped into his head while he felt anger bursting through his skull, as he grabbed his head.
Raven though watched him for a second as she suddenly burst’s into a fit of laughter, that made Andrew wonder what he said that was so funny.
“What’s so funny?” He asked quickly, while Raven continued giggling.
“Oh the thought that you think I would sacrifice you, how silly is that, if I was going to sacrifice you why in the world would I even save your life. No, just no. I have plans for you and not to have someone kill you. You owe me your life not your death. No I have something more important in mind.”
Raven pushed the chair back as she got up, her hips swaying as she walked to the other side of the table looking at him. Those eyes, it was the first time he noticed them, they were red, like pure blood, as she watched him with a sort of hunger. The kind animals on the hunt had when they found the perfect prayer. It didn’t help him with his feeling that she was going to sacrifice him.
“So If you’re not going to sacrifice me then what do you want?” Andrew asked not even sure what to say while he looked at the War Goddess, who smirked as she leaned in.
“I want you to marry me.” She said simply her hand touching the table as she glided her hand around as a box appeared, in fact it was the same box that he tossed the other night, as she opened it revealing the gold band.
“In exchange for saving your life you must become my husband, from now untill the day you die.” She said with a wide grin, like a cat. Andrew watched her for a second not sure what to say, yet went for the first word that came to his head.
“Wait what?!” He muttered out as he looked at the goddess holding the box, and on one knee before him.
“Marry me simple as that, in exchange for you to live, you become my husband. So what do you say?” Raven said as she looked him in the eyes. Those blood red eyes. As he sat there stunned not even sure if he could say yes or no, and worst of all, what if he does say no what would she do.
“What… What would me become your husband do for me? I mean what would I have to do?” He asked, though Raven smile vanished as she looked almost annoyed.
“Humans, always curious and wondering, it’s both your most fascinating and annoying features you’ve developed. But if you want to know. You Becoming my husband would be simple.”
Raven stood up, and from the position they were, she looked like a giant. It was quiet something as she walked around him.
“But if you must know, as my husband you will be required to be a good husband, try not to cause me any trouble, Give me at least one or two kids, like any normal couple. You also can’t embarrass me in front of the other gods.”
Raven moved in her finger under his chin, lifting his head,
“Do you understand that. I think its a fair deal, you’re life, and you become my husband, it’ll be simple.” She said while Andrew looked at her for a minute, seeing there wasn’t any downsides.
“Sure, I’ll marry you, but I really don’t know you. I mean… Yes.” He said while Raven nodded,
“Good, we’ll have the ceremony in about a week understand. I want us to be married as soon as possible. But as one of my top gods I’ll need witnesses from people in my pantheon. Do you understand that.” Raven spoke with that wild smile. Andrew nodded understanding what she meant, Though a thought came other him.
“What about my parents… My family? Will they be ok?”
“They’ll be fine, I know a couple of gods that I’m sure will look out for them, though you won’t be able to see them again.” Almost like pulling it out from air, Raven brought out a newspaper, and showed it. Andrew looked into it, where he saw it an obituary, reading,
Andrew Moon (Andy) Died age twenty-seven leaving behind his parents and girlfriend. He died in the early hours of the morning death by suicide. His funeral will be held at the St. Francis Funeral home in New charlise. Where he will be buried.
To the world Andrew Moon was dead, but for Andrew Moon his life was only begining. Weather he knew it or not, He was about to begin a new chapter in his life.
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