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You first discover your shapeshifting powers. in A Shapeshifting Story
Your Girlfriend's Body in The Guillotine: Fan Service
Yours in The Guillotine: Fan Service
Your Girlfriend's Head in The Guillotine: Fan Service
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New Adventures
You are a powerful warrior cursed to become a maiden.
(Fantasy, MtF, Gradual Transformation, Curse, Revenge)
Fantasy story about a manly warrior who is cursed by a jilted lover to become less masculine and more feminine every time he orgasms.
(Fantasy, MtF, Gradual Transformation, Curse, Revenge)
Fantasy story about a manly warrior who is cursed by a jilted lover to become less masculine and more feminine every time he orgasms.
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You find a magic pen, anything it writes becomes true.
If the writing is in past tense the magic changes reality so it's always been that way, if the writing is in present tense it causes a change that people can notice.
If the writing is in past tense the magic changes reality so it's always been that way, if the writing is in present tense it causes a change that people can notice.
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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.
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After another boring day in school, its the last homeroom of the day. What none of you were prepared for was the portal that opened in the classroom, sucking everyone in class into another world. However, a mistake has been made, and you’re summoned as a slime!
CHARACTERS
Dan (You: 18) - You, the protagonist. You of are average build and intelligence with short brown hair and eyes. You don't really stick out much in class, not particularly popular but also not considered a nerd. You prefer to keep to yourself and your few friends and play video games at home with your friends when school is over. You have a crush on Lena and you have no idea if she likes you back.
Jeremy (19) - Your perverted best friend. Also of average build with blonde hair and blue eyes. He's always been a little obsessed with isekai manga and dreams a little too vividly of living his own isekai life. Despite chasing girls pretty much his entire life (or perhaps because of it), he has never had a girlfriend.
Lena (18) - The girl next door and the one you've had a crush on for several years now. Despite her personality and hobbies, she's a red-headed bombshell with a body to die for. Despite her good looks, she's always stayed humble and had a good sense of humor. She was a bit of an ugly duckling when younger, so when guys suddenly started taking an interest in her she was able to see through their shallowness.
Victoria (19) - The stereotypical class goth girl with a killer body. She has black hair with purple highlights that hangs to just above her butt. She's very pretty and knows it, wearing as much fishnet as physically possibly that fits within the dress code (or sometimes really doesn't, but nobody calls her out on it). She seems to have a different boyfriend every week.
Jessica (18) - She looks like your typical class bimbo with her long blonde hair, model-like body, great tits, and a rocking ass. Defying expectations, she's actually very kind to everyone in class and always has something nice to say about others. Also despite her looks, she's one of the top students in class. She's currently single and has a secret crush on Jeremy.
Cara (18) - Likely the most beautiful girl in the entire school. She has killer curves, perfectly shaped breasts, and long black hair. She is the student class president and has a mature aura about her. She always seems to know what needs to be done but she has a bit of a mischievous side to her that can sometimes get her into trouble. She’s currently single. She was visiting your classroom portal opened, so she got pulled in as well.
Eric (19) - The class jock and bully. Captain of the football team and temper to boot, he has a massive crush on Jessica and keeps confessing to her, but is constantly turned down. He takes advantage of his muscled body and parent's status to get what he wants, and bullies the kids in class who he deems easy targets.
Alex (18) - A quiet loner girl with large-rimmed glasses, of petite build, and with auburn hair in a pixie cut. She's always been jealous of the prettier girls in class who "have it easy." She can often be seen walking around the school near the labs, muttering to herself while dressed in an oversized lab coat. She's by far the smartest person in the class.
Ms. Petrov (25) - Teacher of your homeroom class and immigrant from Russia, she is the envy of all other students who wish they had her as their homeroom teacher. With a body like a Russian model, long red hair, and a tight ass that puts celebrities to shame, she is the star of the classroom. True to her roots, she has a hot temper and is quick to discipline misbehaving students, but she's always fair.
The Goddess (???) - The most beautiful woman you’ve ever laid your eyes on. Silky silver hair, perfectly shaped breasts, and wonderful curves. Also somehow incredibly clumsy, despite being a goddess. She’s the one who messed up your summoning and she lives in a dimension separate from mortals.
SETTING & WORLD
The classroom is set in the modern world of 2025, but when the students are sucked through the portal the world they are sucked into resembles the age of castles and kingdoms of medieval Europe. Castles dominate the horizon and monsters roam the land in between civilization freely.
CHARACTERS
Dan (You: 18) - You, the protagonist. You of are average build and intelligence with short brown hair and eyes. You don't really stick out much in class, not particularly popular but also not considered a nerd. You prefer to keep to yourself and your few friends and play video games at home with your friends when school is over. You have a crush on Lena and you have no idea if she likes you back.
Jeremy (19) - Your perverted best friend. Also of average build with blonde hair and blue eyes. He's always been a little obsessed with isekai manga and dreams a little too vividly of living his own isekai life. Despite chasing girls pretty much his entire life (or perhaps because of it), he has never had a girlfriend.
Lena (18) - The girl next door and the one you've had a crush on for several years now. Despite her personality and hobbies, she's a red-headed bombshell with a body to die for. Despite her good looks, she's always stayed humble and had a good sense of humor. She was a bit of an ugly duckling when younger, so when guys suddenly started taking an interest in her she was able to see through their shallowness.
Victoria (19) - The stereotypical class goth girl with a killer body. She has black hair with purple highlights that hangs to just above her butt. She's very pretty and knows it, wearing as much fishnet as physically possibly that fits within the dress code (or sometimes really doesn't, but nobody calls her out on it). She seems to have a different boyfriend every week.
Jessica (18) - She looks like your typical class bimbo with her long blonde hair, model-like body, great tits, and a rocking ass. Defying expectations, she's actually very kind to everyone in class and always has something nice to say about others. Also despite her looks, she's one of the top students in class. She's currently single and has a secret crush on Jeremy.
Cara (18) - Likely the most beautiful girl in the entire school. She has killer curves, perfectly shaped breasts, and long black hair. She is the student class president and has a mature aura about her. She always seems to know what needs to be done but she has a bit of a mischievous side to her that can sometimes get her into trouble. She’s currently single. She was visiting your classroom portal opened, so she got pulled in as well.
Eric (19) - The class jock and bully. Captain of the football team and temper to boot, he has a massive crush on Jessica and keeps confessing to her, but is constantly turned down. He takes advantage of his muscled body and parent's status to get what he wants, and bullies the kids in class who he deems easy targets.
Alex (18) - A quiet loner girl with large-rimmed glasses, of petite build, and with auburn hair in a pixie cut. She's always been jealous of the prettier girls in class who "have it easy." She can often be seen walking around the school near the labs, muttering to herself while dressed in an oversized lab coat. She's by far the smartest person in the class.
Ms. Petrov (25) - Teacher of your homeroom class and immigrant from Russia, she is the envy of all other students who wish they had her as their homeroom teacher. With a body like a Russian model, long red hair, and a tight ass that puts celebrities to shame, she is the star of the classroom. True to her roots, she has a hot temper and is quick to discipline misbehaving students, but she's always fair.
The Goddess (???) - The most beautiful woman you’ve ever laid your eyes on. Silky silver hair, perfectly shaped breasts, and wonderful curves. Also somehow incredibly clumsy, despite being a goddess. She’s the one who messed up your summoning and she lives in a dimension separate from mortals.
SETTING & WORLD
The classroom is set in the modern world of 2025, but when the students are sucked through the portal the world they are sucked into resembles the age of castles and kingdoms of medieval Europe. Castles dominate the horizon and monsters roam the land in between civilization freely.
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You've always been intrigued by thoughts and how they would physically work. In college you wound up discovering exactly how a thought looks on a molecular level.
Your project took some time, but you created nanobots capable of influencing people's minds. Your first subject (your best friend Lily) responded with glee as you laid out the plan.
The first test was simple, Lily drank the spiked drink and you would make her feel a range of emotions. You feverishly typed on the computer, fine-tuning the signal. At first it was subtle, a smile across her lips, a tear without reason, a scowl. She felt all those emotions just like they were her own. She just could not explain why she felt them, she just did.
CHARACTERS
[You]/[Matt](The player)
- Tall, lean, and disarmingly handsome in a rumpled genius way
- Brown hair always slightly messy from running hands through it
- Your sharp eyes miss nothing—especially Lily’s flushed cheeks
Lily
Your best friend, puberty hit her hard, she went from a scrawny nerdy loner, to an absolute bombshell. The only thing that didn't change was her confidence. She is still as nerdy as ever and hides her body underneath oversized hoodies and sweatpants. Even when she works out she hides her body. You have had a crush on her all your life, but never had the guts to tell her.
She is also studying biomechanics.
Josh
An art student. A good friend of yours and a bit of a pervert. Loves to flirt with girls but does not have the guts to follow through.
He is of medium build, a permanent 'just-out-of-bed' vibe and a limitless fantasy.
Has a crush on Sarah.
Sarah
A sports student. She is the captain of the swimming team. Blonde hair, athletic build. An optimist at heart and down to try anything. Bisexual.
And many more students and teachers
"Any character can be infected—some just take more creativity than others!"
Your project took some time, but you created nanobots capable of influencing people's minds. Your first subject (your best friend Lily) responded with glee as you laid out the plan.
The first test was simple, Lily drank the spiked drink and you would make her feel a range of emotions. You feverishly typed on the computer, fine-tuning the signal. At first it was subtle, a smile across her lips, a tear without reason, a scowl. She felt all those emotions just like they were her own. She just could not explain why she felt them, she just did.
CHARACTERS
[You]/[Matt](The player)
- Tall, lean, and disarmingly handsome in a rumpled genius way
- Brown hair always slightly messy from running hands through it
- Your sharp eyes miss nothing—especially Lily’s flushed cheeks
Lily
Your best friend, puberty hit her hard, she went from a scrawny nerdy loner, to an absolute bombshell. The only thing that didn't change was her confidence. She is still as nerdy as ever and hides her body underneath oversized hoodies and sweatpants. Even when she works out she hides her body. You have had a crush on her all your life, but never had the guts to tell her.
She is also studying biomechanics.
Josh
An art student. A good friend of yours and a bit of a pervert. Loves to flirt with girls but does not have the guts to follow through.
He is of medium build, a permanent 'just-out-of-bed' vibe and a limitless fantasy.
Has a crush on Sarah.
Sarah
A sports student. She is the captain of the swimming team. Blonde hair, athletic build. An optimist at heart and down to try anything. Bisexual.
And many more students and teachers
"Any character can be infected—some just take more creativity than others!"
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Kent is young guy that has to spend the summer paying off his debt after accidentally damaging his bitch of a neighbour Julie’s car while playing a game with his friend Marcus. Kent resigns himself to working as Julie’s glorified servant, that is until he finds an odd looking idol that allows him to possess her body. Now with a summer of freedom ahead and Julie’s hot body to do with as he pleases, Kent is looking forward to making up for lost time and having some fun.
Note: This is a commissioned work that has not been personally written by me. I have been granted permission to distribute and share the story by the original author.
The push mower's dull rattle droned in Kent’s ears, blades whirring through the grass. His body strained beneath the midday sun, and through damp lashes, he caught the blur of a cherry-red convertible roaring down the road—top down, laughter trailing like exhaust.
“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, wiping away another hand of sweat.
The mower sputtered as he yanked it over a thick patch near Julie’s hydrangeas. He imagined Marcus at the wheel, music cranked, their friends crowded in the back seat, already sunburned and salty from the ocean. They wouldn’t miss him today; they probably hadn’t even noticed he wasn’t around these days.
The sun seared, hammering against his back, arms, the nape of his neck where his hair stuck and tangled. Kent tried not to groan, but it was getting harder not to resent the injustice of it all. He trudged along, kicking dust into the air, each pass of the mower a reminder of how thoroughly he'd been screwed.
Two weeks ago, he’d been carefree, tossing a ball back and forth with Marcus in his front yard. It had all gone wrong so fast: Marcus’ wild throw, laughing at Kent’s half-hearted protest, goading him to catch it. Kent squinted against the sky; his hand fumbled the air. The dull clang was the sound of his afternoon crashing against Julie’s car, leaving a perfect circle of incrimination in the glossy finish.
They'd both stared—Marcus with lips curled around the brink of a "whoops," and Kent with his gut unraveling through his shirt.
Marcus caught his eye and smiled like he’d planned the whole thing. "No one saw. Chill, man!" Kent opened his mouth, closed it, hoped it wasn’t as big a deal as he feared.
It was.
The door slammed with the sharp report of impending disaster, and there was Julie in full fury, an avenging angel with a tan. "Which one of you incompetent brats—" She halted, eyes narrowing at the guilty-looking crease on her convertible’s door. Her voice fell, low and venomous. "—thinks this is funny?"
Kent swallowed. He hated the dryness in his mouth, the stickiness on his palms. He hated the dent in the car, hated Marcus's grin, and hated even more how it slid away into something else. Something innocent, friendly. "Hey, Ms. Bentley. We were just leaving a note."
She crossed the lawn with the gait of someone used to having her way, every step as dangerous as an exclamation mark. "Try again, boys."
"We were—"
"He threw it," Kent interrupted. "It got away from him. We’ll get it fixed."
"Kent..." Marcus raised his eyebrows, a betrayed chorus of one.
"You’re damn right you’ll get it fixed." Julie’s attention speared Kent and held. He could feel Marcus shifting, inching toward the door. "And you’ll work off every cent. Both of you."
The pause stretched longer than the afternoon sun. "I guess I can help," Marcus finally said, with the agonized reluctance of a guy donating a kidney. "If I don’t work weekends, and if Mom doesn’t ground me again—"
"Save it," Kent muttered, already caught, already sentenced. He’d seen this play out before. "I’ll take care of it."
Marcus’s hand clamped on his shoulder with all the sincerity of a condolence card bought half-price. "Thanks, bro. I’ll owe you."
"I know you will," Kent had replied, staring past Julie's gloating smile to where Marcus, framed by sunlight and betrayal, had slouched away.
Back in the present, the sun hadn’t moved. Kent kicked the mower into a new row, ignoring how his arms shook from the effort, ignoring how his thoughts spun through pointless what-ifs. He ducked his head, let the work and heat crush him down until he was too small to bother with.
The next pass went easier. Resignation did that—took the sting out of unfairness like Novocain. Kent mowed numbly, lines and rows blurring into one another until the grass lay behind him.
Two more weeks of this? A lifetime? Might as well. Julie was a woman who knew how to wield silence as well as threats. Not for the first time, Kent wondered why Marcus ever threw the damn ball.
He finished, choked the mower dead, wiped sweat from his eyes. His skin felt crispy and tight. All he needed was a dive, no a dip—of his toe into the pool. That would fix it all.
"Is this a joke to you?" Julie's voice, another thing that refused to wilt in the heat.
Kent was shaken back to the present, and caught in the scent of chlorine and coconut oil threading through the afternoon air. He was standing on the edge of the water as Julie stretched relaxingly, every move as intentional as the flick of her gaze.
Her bikini clung like sweat, and Kent's eyes traced its path against his will.
"This isn't acceptable," she said. "Again."
He wanted to disappear into the chlorinated depths, but she was already lounging back, already dismissing him from her thoughts as she dangled new chores between them like a cat with an injured mouse.
"A kid your age shouldn’t have such a hard time keeping up." Julie's eyes glinted like a promise he wasn't going to get. Kent swallowed a retort, tasted salt on his upper lip instead. She knew the effect she had, both in giving orders and ignoring them. "My daughter could do better."
"I doubt that." The words slipped out with a touch more venom than he'd meant.
Kent turned away, wanting to muffle the clink of ice against her glass with his own hands around her throat. Or maybe his own hands around his own throat. He couldn’t decide.
"I don't need attitude. I need that lawn mowed right."
It was a subtle dance of dominance. One she performed like a pro, even reclining. Julie's skin shone like polished bronze under the sun. The same sun had Kent looking like a washed-up sweat rag by comparison. A rag that hadn't worked off his debt, yet.
Julie glanced back at the pool, effectively tossing him from her thoughts, while he stood dumbly in the tangle of lust, obligation, and a boy’s last ounce of pride.
"You want me to go over it again?" His voice cracked—broke around the words.
Her chin tilted up, uninterested. "If it’s not perfect, you’ll keep doing it until it is. Start with the hedges. I expect more from you."
Kent shuffled away, back toward the toolshed.
Home. Kent made his way home that night, in a huff. The familiar house sat quiet and useless, just like his last three paychecks.
Mom greeted him as he trudged through the kitchen door, hand resting on his shoulder—too gentle to be real sympathy. Dad folded a corner of the paper down, equally gentle. "Get it all finished up?"
Kent slumped into the chair across from them, felt himself sink. "Not quite. She keeps adding stuff—"
Mom shook her head. "She wouldn’t do that if you did it right the first time, honey."
"I did do it right! She’s just—" Beautiful, unreasonable, half-naked, impossible. The words tangled up in each other, fell into a frustrated heap at his feet. "—Julie. I’ll never get it done."
Dad was halfway through a reply when Kent cut in. "Can you at least admit this is bullshit?"
"Language, Kent." Mom’s voice held the same note Julie’s did. "You know why you have to finish. We’ve been over this. A hundred times."
"A thousand," Kent grumbled, feeling very young and very old at once.
"A hundred," Dad agreed, unfolding another section of newspaper.
It wasn’t what Kent wanted, but it was more than he'd get from Julie. "She says it’ll take weeks."
"Not if you stick with it," Mom said.
That sounded suspiciously like something he told himself when he woke up to do it all over again.
"I’m not being unreasonable. Marcus should—"
Dad’s look cut him off. "Marcus should listen to his mother and be more like you. Get your things done instead of complaining. It’ll build character, son."
Kent braced against the edges of their insistence, the too-smooth conviction he felt slipping past him like oil on water. He needed it rougher, sharper, like sandpaper. Instead, they filed him down to nothing, left him to carry the pieces.
"Yeah," he mumbled. "Character."
Kent walked through the inferno to Julie’s again the next morning. The sprinklers had done more to cool the yard than he ever would.
She let him in, and Kent found himself in the toolshed again. He was being dramatic, he knew it, but he saw himself doomed to middle age before he left this hellscape.
That’s why you did it, Marcus. To build character. That’s what Kent wanted to believe.
He hoisted a gas can, hated the way it felt so familiar. "Get it all finished up?" he muttered, mocking more than himself.
At the edge of the yard, Marcus’s words snagged his thoughts. "Thanks, bro. I’ll owe you."
Kent cringed inwardly, the flashback was as unwelcome as Marcus’s easy grin. He wasn’t getting anything out of this. The mower whirred to life again, drowning out the last bit of sanity Kent had.
Task 2: Move an ungodly amount of boxes.
Julie watched from the side of the pool again, an ice cube balanced between her lips, as Kent hauled a heavy box across the patio. His steps were an awkward choreography of anger and heat exhaustion. She stretched a leg, attention already back on her phone. "I’m not running a charity, Kent. I expect all of those moved by the end of the day."
His body screamed for rest, but he plowed forward. If she wanted to break him, it would take more than a few shopping sprees and heat waves to do it.
"Commitment, Kent. I need to see you’re committed to paying what you owe," Julie said. She reached lazily for a magazine. Kent nearly buckled under the weight. The sprinklers sputtered on, mocking him. His arms throbbed, and the boxes felt heavier with every step.
Kent glared back at the pool. "Is this all of them?"
Julie sipped her drink, feigning deep consideration. "We'll see, won’t we?"
The heat was a solid thing. He dragged himself back for the next load, ignored the stubborn itch of humiliation as he passed her sun chair. Julie's skin was already bronzed, glowing against the red of her bikini like Christmas in July. She wasn't even watching. Her complete lack of attention chafed worse than his sticky shirt. Maybe this wasn’t better than the lawn.
Kent shook his head and moved another box.
Julie seemed perfectly at ease, flipping the pages without even glancing at him. In turn, each glance he stole fueled the resentment he was supposed to be working off. No, it grew. Larger than him, larger than life.
Kent sighed. Three trips later and Kent's shoulders felt like they were shredding. Julie's calm was like ice in his throat, grating.
She made a bored gesture in his direction.
"I’m going, I’m going," he muttered, head lowered. Prisoner.
"I almost believe you, dear."
Kent rubbed his shoulder, wished he could ignore it as easily as she ignored him. He wanted to break something, maybe her resolve. Maybe his own.
Halfway through the stack, the boxes became heavier. How? Kent’s eyes bulged as her struggled to keep a box in his arms, needing to use his legs to stabilise it.
"Careful," she called without looking up, her foot dangling in the pool. The water, like the entire house, was a universe away. His jaw tightened like the strings of a cheap violin. His actions were almost noble if nobility felt like dirt, grit, and sarcasm. Maybe he wouldn’t get what he wanted—freedom, the beach, even Julie’s attention—but he could work until nothing mattered.
Task 3: Clean the attic.
Kent sneezed.
The attic smelled like dead things, old things, dust and age and memories. Light filtered through a single window, and dust motes mocked him as they danced around. He waved a hand in front of his face, spitting out dirt and frustration in equal measure.
Julie’s voice floated up the stairs, a siren call to hell. "Get it all done, Kent."
He choked on a reply and another sneeze. This was the worst. His arms screamed for relief, but he grabbed a broom instead. Webs clung to every part of the room, and Kent wondered if a spider bit him what kind of superpowers he’d get. Maybe he’d turn into a kid who had some actual free time.
Kent swept the floor with the same dedication that had gotten him here in the first place. He imagined Marcus at the beach, surrounded by friends and bikinis that weren’t his boss’s. The broom handle dug into his blistered palms, and he pushed harder, until the pile of dust and dirt became a small mountain of failure.
He coughed, doubled over. This was pointless. He rubbed his face with a dirty shirt sleeve, smeared the mess across his cheek. A week ago he might have cared.
The broom thudded against the wall. He leaned against it, feeling the sting of dust and sweat in his eyes. It was a lost cause. The whole thing.
Something caught his eye. A figure, cloaked under a dusty wool blanket. He reached for it, more curious than he should have been, and pulled the fabric away.
A doll? An idol?
Kent almost laughed at the absurdity. An old-fashioned thing, with yellowing lace and painted eyes that stared past him like Julie did. He wiped his hands on his shirt, reached for it, fingers closing around the figure. Maybe it—
One touch, and it was the last contact he had, the last time he felt a thing.
One step, and he felt himself shift and separate, pulling apart like a zipper splitting seams that held his mind and body tight. There was a ripping sensation, a fraying sensation, and then a lightness so complete Kent thought he might disappear entirely.
“What the hell is this?!” he screamed in his mind.
Kent looked down at his hands, saw them glowing a pale blue that didn’t hide what was behind them. See-through? Transparent? He was floating-feather light, above the attic floor. Above the mess he’d made of it, above his own body, which was slumped where he’d left it.
His first thought was to panic. His second thought was that he already had. He drifted forward, then back. What just happened?
Was he dead?
No, that wasn’t right. Dead people didn’t get mad, and Kent was mad as hell. He was anything but dead.
He was alive, more alive than he ever felt. Alive, free of the heat and the drudgery and the persistent ache of muscle and bone. Alive, free, and…shimmering?
Kent felt the spark of something he hadn’t felt in weeks. Possibility.
His spirit stretched into the attic's corners, testing his new reach, dancing through the crowded loft. He shot past his old body, tempted to wave. He'd give it up again without a second thought. Let Julie wonder what magic swapped out her slave, wonder what left her so completely she couldn’t yell at it.
Kent skipped through the abandoned boxes, gliding over ancient bags, years of forgotten excess. One flick of his ghostly finger set the attic in motion, objects swaying like they finally believed in ghosts.
They had to believe. Kent wasn't even trying, not yet. He might have spent the entire day haunting her past, finding new things to set loose.
He stuck his head through the attic wall, through the attic floor, and stared at the room below. It was upside down, or maybe he was? Not that it mattered when he could fly—when he could phase. He could phase through walls. Kent laughed at the brilliance of it, the sheer giddiness of going where no one wanted him. He stretched his spirit like a growing boy, like a growing thought, and shot down into Julie’s world.
He peeked out through the window, head first of course. Then his shoulders followed, then his legs. Next thing, Kent was soaring over the manicured lawn that he manicured. He stopped short of her lawn chair, hovering in the blistering summer heat. He felt none of it. Nice!
The chair, the yard, the entire universe looked different when it wasn't pushing him around. A magazine perched on the small table next to her. She relaxed, as fully and completely as if he'd never existed.
Kent watched, waiting to see if she'd notice the power shift. Notice him. It was all he could do not to burst with thrill of possibilities.
But nothing happened. No matter how long he stared at her, she barely felt his eyes on her.
Then he nudged it, pushing at the magazine with a single finger. It slipped from the table, fluttering down onto the grass.
She glanced at it, not even removing her sunglasses. "Wind’s picking up," she mumbled, and leaned back into her own self-absorption.
"Okay," he thought to himself. "If you want to play, let’s play."
Kent pulled at the towel that draped her sun chair. It slipped to the ground with a thud. This time, Julie's eyes popped open. She stared around the yard like she'd just seen him flung from the roof, like her furniture flung itself from the roof.
Her eyes were slits, suspicious, curious, but not afraid. "Ha ha," Kent heard her say. Fine.
He tugged next at the sunscreen, nudging it off her lap, and watching it roll into the water. Julie sat up. Her brow furrowed, and after a long second she slowly slid the sunglasses down her nose. Kent almost laughed. She was so used to getting her way, she couldn't comprehend the universe acting out.
“It’s not funny,” she shouted at cosmic injustice, and at Kent. “Who’s there?”
Kent hovered above her, a cheeky grin spread across his face. The rules had changed—she was playing the game now, and he was the game master. Kent shoved at the drink in her hand, watched as it splashed cold ice, and lemonade on her sun-warmed skin. Julie yelped, surprised. An ice cube melted between her fingers, over her navel, all along the exact same path Kent’s thoughts wanted to travel.
This time, she stood.
However, it was the wrong move.
Kent yanked at the string on her bikini, wild and reckless. The top slipped loose, and before he could whoop with victory, the world stopped.
It happened again.
The same shifting, the same separation. Julie’s spirit rose out of her body like steam from a kettle. She stared down at herself, and then right through him. Kent froze. Her spirit paused, hovered.
Then Kent did what he did best.
He panicked.
How to fix this? How to fix this? How to not get caught?
Kent grabbed at Julie’s astral form, desperate to reverse what he’d done. Instead, it became even worse. When he came to his sense again, his astral form was anew—only it wasn’t. He was inside Julie’s spirit, possessing her essence.
“What the hell is this?!” he screamed again. This time, out loud.
Kent looked down at himself, but all he saw was Julie’s astral body. Her real one took that very moment to slump sideways, falling on the lawn chair with all the grace of a corpse.
A beautiful, half-naked, very vulnerable corpse.
Kent—Julie—stood in shock, mind racing through the possibilities. He could leave her like this. She’d never know. But then another thought crashed over him, stronger than the first: If he didn’t get caught, he’d never get the chance again.
He dove for Julie’s body, not feeling the grass beneath his feet or the sun on his bare shoulders, feeling only the thrill of new freedom around him. It was a game, and he was winning. Kent entered her body through her astral form, through the space where she had left herself open to him.
He settled in.
Kent sat up, eyes going wide when he moved Julie’s body with his own will. The bikini top hung loose, her skin tingled from the lemonade, and he felt everything. Was everything. He was inside her, but more than that—he was her.
Kent—Julie—drew a breath and another, chest rising and falling in thrilling confirmation of what he’d done. This was crazy.
He looked down at himself, taking in the naked curve of Julie’s breasts, feeling the rich sensation of being in her skin—the weight of her breast sat on her chest, the sway of her streaky blonde hair tickling her back, the air on her damp stomach. He had never felt so much, so intensely, and it was all his.
He moved his hand, watched her manicured fingers respond, marveled at how it felt to have nails like these. The sensations were overwhelming, a tidal wave of newness crashing through him, and he was at the center of it all.
Kent rose from the lounge chair, feeling Julie’s legs unfurl beneath him. Her legs. His legs. He took a step and stumbled slightly—her body was so different from his own—but he laughed, a melodic sound that he’s only ever heard from an outsider’s perspective. Now, it was all around him.
He—Julie—stretched, arching her back, reveling in the supple bend of her spine. He swayed from side to side, his eyes drawn to her breasts as they moved with him, to the way her stomach stretched and flattened under her skin. He was gleeful, reckless, and ready to explore.
Kent hopped in place, feeling the heaviness of having breasts that large, of having them jiggle and shift with Julie’s every motion. He hugged her arms around herself, squeezing tight, feeling the way her soft skin gave under her own touch.
“My God,” he said under his breath. He reached up and cupped Julie’s breasts, felt the fullness of them in his new hands. This was better than he could have imagined. “The things I could do…”
A wicked grin spread across his face, a thought forming in his mind that he couldn’t let go of even if he tried. The lemonade was drying on his—her—skin, a sticky sweetness that called out to him. He trailed a finger across Julie’s stomach, felt the tacky residue there. He brought the finger to his mouth, tasted it, and shivered at the sensation. Her body was alive with feeling, with want—Kent’s wants.
“What a silly little blonde I am,” he said, mocking Julie with her own voice. “To spill lemonade all over my tits.”
Kent laughed, delighted with how it felt to be Julie, with how it felt to be free. He let her arms fall to her sides, let them hang loose as he enjoyed the sensation of heaviness on her chest, of the tightness in her bikini top still tied around his waist, and then with no warning at all, he tore it off.
He threw the top in an exaggerated motion that reminded him of Julie, letting it flop somewhere on the grass. With a satisfied sigh, he lay back down on the lounge chair, eager to savor it all. The sun was hot, and it warmed her skin, heating up the stickiness that covered him.
“Kent!” he called, dragging out the syllables of his own name. “The attic better be spotless. Ah, ah,” he tutted in Julie’s voice, as if he were really talking to himself. “I don’t need attitude. I need the attic clean, and I need it now!”
He laughed again, louder this time, and watched the way Julie’s breasts shook with it. He cupped them again, feeling the weight of them, the heat of them under his hands. He kneaded them, felt her nipples harden under his palms. “Yes please.”
The way she responded was electric, was addictive. He circled her nipples with her fingers, feeling the give and pull of her flesh under his touch. He pinched them, tugged at them, and gasped as the sensation rippled through her entire body.
Kent—Julie—arched off the lounge chair, relishing in the newfound closeness of her own skin against itself. Her body, his body now, was a treasure trove of feeling. Guilt was one of them, but Kent discarded it the moment he felt the heat of Julie’s skin.
His new skin.
Kent let his fingers wander, hesitating nowhere, exploring each inch of Julie’s body with an urgency that was all his own. His hands moved from her breasts to her stomach, reveling in the tautness of it, the smoothness. This was incredible. Nothing like his own body, nothing like the weak and overworked thing he’d left behind to gather dust.
The lemonade was a slick trail that led him further down, but Kent wanted to savour every part of Julie’s body.
He grabbed the abandoned cup and found two melting ice cubes in it. Without thinking, he placed one against the pulse point of her neck and felt the cold travel through him, felt it race along her veins in a shiver that made him gasp. He ran it down to her breasts, tracing the hard ice along the soft skin, watching as it left a shiny trail in its wake.
He groaned with pleasure as heat met chill, as her body—his body—reacted to every small sensation.
Kent teased the ice around Julie’s nipples, feeling it melt fast against her warmth, feeling the slickness of water and lemonade mix on her skin. This was too good. Too intense. He pressed harder, drawing circles until nothing but a wet pool remained. Then he took the second ice cube and slid it down her stomach, felt it slip over Julie’s navel, felt it dip lower. He shivered with raw want, with a hunger that was all his own.
Her body was so needy.
Kent couldn’t get enough of her breasts, wanted to hold them, squeeze them, lose himself in the swell and the softness. He ran his hands over her glistening skin, slick and sweet. He rolled Julie’s nipples between her fingers again, felt a tight heat coil at her center, felt the pleasure spread. He was giddy, greedy, and relentless.
Another pinch, another nipple. Kent felt harden beneath his touch—her touch—their touch. He groaned at the intensity of it, the foreignness of it. His fingers were relentless, trailing over Julie’s breasts, thumbs teasing every part of her perky pink nipples. They were like something he'd never felt, like she'd never let him feel. Moans pulled from somewhere within, or perhaps somewhere very far beyond him, mingled with the summer air.
His arousal grew, a heaviness that pulled in his stomach, one that wasn’t accompanied by the swelling of a cock—no. This was all heat and wetness. He could feel the warmth of it spreading, the want of it filling him, and he was unstoppable now, a force with no fear.
He couldn’t resist. Kent settled back against the lounge chair, really made himself comfortable, and let Julie’s fingers trail along her sides. His fingers hooked Julie’s bikini bottom strings, tugging it up higher, so high the fabric pulled tight through her legs, through pussy lips. Her wetness was slick against the bikini bottom, and he moaned, feeling the pressure, the friction of it.
“Holy shit,” he murmured, looking down at how the fabric tucked snug against Julie’s body, feeling the way her pussy responded to the tightness. It had him biting Julie’s lips, moaning softly.
Kent let the strings snap back, rolled his hips against the chair, felt every bit of Julie’s body respond with a raw hunger that was all his own. Then, he loosened one side, then the other, freeing the bikini bottom from her hips and sliding it slowly down. He watched it peel off with a slow stickiness, felt every inch of the cool air as it hit her bare skin, hit her exposed pussy. It left her bare and open to the world. Open to him.
Kent loved every second of it—he wanted more.
He let his hands roam, feeling the soft curve of Julie’s thighs, feeling their warmth, their strength, the way they flexed and tensed as he touched her.
The lemonade was everywhere now, a sweet slickness that begged for more attention. He slid his hands between her legs, feeling them part beneath his touch, feeling the wetness there—a different kind of wetness, one that made him ache, one that made his gasp.
Julie’s pussy.
It was soft, wet. So much wetter than any part of him used to be.
His fingers traced over the smooth skin of Julie’s waxed mound, and Kent knew he was lost to it. He spread her lips with Julie’s fingers, found wetness there, and the heat. It was incredible.
His fingers were sure of themselves, even if the feelings they caused were not. He couldn’t handle it as curiosity fuelled every actions—Kent traced the outer vaginal folds of Julie’s pussy, toying with the heat that roared inside him, that wanted him to dip his fingers in, to move faster, to make Julie come. He rubbed her clit in circles he could feel all the way through himself, all the way up to his nipples, all the way back down. He was breathing hard now, fast and shallow as a dog in heat.
His mind couldn’t handle it, but her body could. His body could. Kent’s fingers massaged her clit in slow, maddening circles, building the intensity of it, building the pressure. He could feel her start to float away from herself, from everything, and Kent whimpered as he felt it too.
He pushed two fingers inside her, felt the wetness close around them. It was tight and hot and nothing like what he’d imagined, but better, better than he’d imagined. He moved his fingers in and out, feeling the slickness grow, feeling her body respond to it. His thumb circled her clit, his other hand squeezing her breast—the sounds, they were music to his ears.
Kent pushed her fingers deep again, fucking into her with growing urgency. He was past the point of caring, past the point of restraint. He pumped her pussy, felt her tighten around the fingers, felt her breath catch in her throat as she started to let go, to really let go.
It was intoxicating, with each squelch, each stroke, a musk scent filled the air—a scent that Julie’s and his. He was so wet, so turned on, Kent was losing his mind. He gathered slickness on his fingertips, savoring it as he brought fingers to his mouth. Her lips parted; her tongue tasted it—tasted herself—and Kent shivered at the sensation, at how different it was from anything he'd known.
Kent moaned, Julie’s voice responded, and it was heaven. His fingers moved faster, more desperate. He was so close, so close to everything.
“Fuuuck,” Kent said, felt the pleasure build and coil. His other hand kneaded her breasts while he licked and sucked at his fingers, alternating between the two until both were coated in sweat and juice and the taste of summer freedom.
It was almost more than he could handle.
He pressed fingers against himself again, dipping deeper this time. Dipping farther into her—inside himself—felt the slick heat of her pussy wrap around him, pull him in. His breath came faster now. His hands moved with a mind of their own, slick against her skin, wet against his thighs.
Julie’s breathing was erratic, and Kent stretched out, arm falling behind his head, mouth parting on every moan, every whine. He turned his head, nose brushing against Julie’s armpit; she’d never let anyone near there before—not even herself.
He groaned again.
Kent-as-Julie buried her face in the hollow crook where arm met shoulder; her shoulder; their shoulder; felt another wave of dizziness at how hot and alive she smelled; tasted another drop of sweat as it ran down his cheek; hers; theirs.
He took a deep inhale, sniffing himself—herself—into a frenzy. She smelled of expensive perfume and a raw muskiness that came form sitting under the summer sun—she smelled of sex. It was new, and it was familiar, and it made him bite down on the skin there as his fingers moved faster, as he felt the pressure build and build.
Kent wanted to consume her.
His tongue darted out as his fingers kept moving, faster still, guided by instinct or greed or maybe just teenage hormones run amok. Julie’s skin tasted salty-sweet; her sweat tasted like freedom.
The world narrowed to the space between Julie’s legs, and Kent gave up entirely on restraint. He moved faster now, thrusting with an urgency that left him panting for breath.
Every touch sent shockwaves through him. It was a new kind of heat—a heat so intense it bordered on pain then circled back again. The sun bore down on him, too, like a spotlight as he squirmed and writhed beneath its attention.
It was happening.
He was going to come.
Kent rocked against the chair, against her fingers, against himself. He was so close.
His back arched off the chair as waves crashed over him: tidal waves, rogue waves; hard enough to knock sense loose from his head; hard enough that it didn’t matter when Julie's voice bubbled up inside, “Oh God oh God oh Godddddd…!”
He panted, fingers wet with her juice, body slick with her sweat, his mind blown. Kent lay still when it subsided—limp with satisfaction yet buzzing with energy.
A lazy smile spread across his face—her face as he let the warmth settle in. He was sated but hungry for so much more; dizzy from exertion yet clear-headed for once about what kind of summer awaited him now: One where Marcus didn’t owe him shit anymore.
One where Marcus didn’t owe him shit anymore.
Note: This is a commissioned work that has not been personally written by me. I have been granted permission to distribute and share the story by the original author.
The push mower's dull rattle droned in Kent’s ears, blades whirring through the grass. His body strained beneath the midday sun, and through damp lashes, he caught the blur of a cherry-red convertible roaring down the road—top down, laughter trailing like exhaust.
“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, wiping away another hand of sweat.
The mower sputtered as he yanked it over a thick patch near Julie’s hydrangeas. He imagined Marcus at the wheel, music cranked, their friends crowded in the back seat, already sunburned and salty from the ocean. They wouldn’t miss him today; they probably hadn’t even noticed he wasn’t around these days.
The sun seared, hammering against his back, arms, the nape of his neck where his hair stuck and tangled. Kent tried not to groan, but it was getting harder not to resent the injustice of it all. He trudged along, kicking dust into the air, each pass of the mower a reminder of how thoroughly he'd been screwed.
Two weeks ago, he’d been carefree, tossing a ball back and forth with Marcus in his front yard. It had all gone wrong so fast: Marcus’ wild throw, laughing at Kent’s half-hearted protest, goading him to catch it. Kent squinted against the sky; his hand fumbled the air. The dull clang was the sound of his afternoon crashing against Julie’s car, leaving a perfect circle of incrimination in the glossy finish.
They'd both stared—Marcus with lips curled around the brink of a "whoops," and Kent with his gut unraveling through his shirt.
Marcus caught his eye and smiled like he’d planned the whole thing. "No one saw. Chill, man!" Kent opened his mouth, closed it, hoped it wasn’t as big a deal as he feared.
It was.
The door slammed with the sharp report of impending disaster, and there was Julie in full fury, an avenging angel with a tan. "Which one of you incompetent brats—" She halted, eyes narrowing at the guilty-looking crease on her convertible’s door. Her voice fell, low and venomous. "—thinks this is funny?"
Kent swallowed. He hated the dryness in his mouth, the stickiness on his palms. He hated the dent in the car, hated Marcus's grin, and hated even more how it slid away into something else. Something innocent, friendly. "Hey, Ms. Bentley. We were just leaving a note."
She crossed the lawn with the gait of someone used to having her way, every step as dangerous as an exclamation mark. "Try again, boys."
"We were—"
"He threw it," Kent interrupted. "It got away from him. We’ll get it fixed."
"Kent..." Marcus raised his eyebrows, a betrayed chorus of one.
"You’re damn right you’ll get it fixed." Julie’s attention speared Kent and held. He could feel Marcus shifting, inching toward the door. "And you’ll work off every cent. Both of you."
The pause stretched longer than the afternoon sun. "I guess I can help," Marcus finally said, with the agonized reluctance of a guy donating a kidney. "If I don’t work weekends, and if Mom doesn’t ground me again—"
"Save it," Kent muttered, already caught, already sentenced. He’d seen this play out before. "I’ll take care of it."
Marcus’s hand clamped on his shoulder with all the sincerity of a condolence card bought half-price. "Thanks, bro. I’ll owe you."
"I know you will," Kent had replied, staring past Julie's gloating smile to where Marcus, framed by sunlight and betrayal, had slouched away.
Back in the present, the sun hadn’t moved. Kent kicked the mower into a new row, ignoring how his arms shook from the effort, ignoring how his thoughts spun through pointless what-ifs. He ducked his head, let the work and heat crush him down until he was too small to bother with.
The next pass went easier. Resignation did that—took the sting out of unfairness like Novocain. Kent mowed numbly, lines and rows blurring into one another until the grass lay behind him.
Two more weeks of this? A lifetime? Might as well. Julie was a woman who knew how to wield silence as well as threats. Not for the first time, Kent wondered why Marcus ever threw the damn ball.
He finished, choked the mower dead, wiped sweat from his eyes. His skin felt crispy and tight. All he needed was a dive, no a dip—of his toe into the pool. That would fix it all.
"Is this a joke to you?" Julie's voice, another thing that refused to wilt in the heat.
Kent was shaken back to the present, and caught in the scent of chlorine and coconut oil threading through the afternoon air. He was standing on the edge of the water as Julie stretched relaxingly, every move as intentional as the flick of her gaze.
Her bikini clung like sweat, and Kent's eyes traced its path against his will.
"This isn't acceptable," she said. "Again."
He wanted to disappear into the chlorinated depths, but she was already lounging back, already dismissing him from her thoughts as she dangled new chores between them like a cat with an injured mouse.
"A kid your age shouldn’t have such a hard time keeping up." Julie's eyes glinted like a promise he wasn't going to get. Kent swallowed a retort, tasted salt on his upper lip instead. She knew the effect she had, both in giving orders and ignoring them. "My daughter could do better."
"I doubt that." The words slipped out with a touch more venom than he'd meant.
Kent turned away, wanting to muffle the clink of ice against her glass with his own hands around her throat. Or maybe his own hands around his own throat. He couldn’t decide.
"I don't need attitude. I need that lawn mowed right."
It was a subtle dance of dominance. One she performed like a pro, even reclining. Julie's skin shone like polished bronze under the sun. The same sun had Kent looking like a washed-up sweat rag by comparison. A rag that hadn't worked off his debt, yet.
Julie glanced back at the pool, effectively tossing him from her thoughts, while he stood dumbly in the tangle of lust, obligation, and a boy’s last ounce of pride.
"You want me to go over it again?" His voice cracked—broke around the words.
Her chin tilted up, uninterested. "If it’s not perfect, you’ll keep doing it until it is. Start with the hedges. I expect more from you."
Kent shuffled away, back toward the toolshed.
Home. Kent made his way home that night, in a huff. The familiar house sat quiet and useless, just like his last three paychecks.
Mom greeted him as he trudged through the kitchen door, hand resting on his shoulder—too gentle to be real sympathy. Dad folded a corner of the paper down, equally gentle. "Get it all finished up?"
Kent slumped into the chair across from them, felt himself sink. "Not quite. She keeps adding stuff—"
Mom shook her head. "She wouldn’t do that if you did it right the first time, honey."
"I did do it right! She’s just—" Beautiful, unreasonable, half-naked, impossible. The words tangled up in each other, fell into a frustrated heap at his feet. "—Julie. I’ll never get it done."
Dad was halfway through a reply when Kent cut in. "Can you at least admit this is bullshit?"
"Language, Kent." Mom’s voice held the same note Julie’s did. "You know why you have to finish. We’ve been over this. A hundred times."
"A thousand," Kent grumbled, feeling very young and very old at once.
"A hundred," Dad agreed, unfolding another section of newspaper.
It wasn’t what Kent wanted, but it was more than he'd get from Julie. "She says it’ll take weeks."
"Not if you stick with it," Mom said.
That sounded suspiciously like something he told himself when he woke up to do it all over again.
"I’m not being unreasonable. Marcus should—"
Dad’s look cut him off. "Marcus should listen to his mother and be more like you. Get your things done instead of complaining. It’ll build character, son."
Kent braced against the edges of their insistence, the too-smooth conviction he felt slipping past him like oil on water. He needed it rougher, sharper, like sandpaper. Instead, they filed him down to nothing, left him to carry the pieces.
"Yeah," he mumbled. "Character."
Kent walked through the inferno to Julie’s again the next morning. The sprinklers had done more to cool the yard than he ever would.
She let him in, and Kent found himself in the toolshed again. He was being dramatic, he knew it, but he saw himself doomed to middle age before he left this hellscape.
That’s why you did it, Marcus. To build character. That’s what Kent wanted to believe.
He hoisted a gas can, hated the way it felt so familiar. "Get it all finished up?" he muttered, mocking more than himself.
At the edge of the yard, Marcus’s words snagged his thoughts. "Thanks, bro. I’ll owe you."
Kent cringed inwardly, the flashback was as unwelcome as Marcus’s easy grin. He wasn’t getting anything out of this. The mower whirred to life again, drowning out the last bit of sanity Kent had.
Task 2: Move an ungodly amount of boxes.
Julie watched from the side of the pool again, an ice cube balanced between her lips, as Kent hauled a heavy box across the patio. His steps were an awkward choreography of anger and heat exhaustion. She stretched a leg, attention already back on her phone. "I’m not running a charity, Kent. I expect all of those moved by the end of the day."
His body screamed for rest, but he plowed forward. If she wanted to break him, it would take more than a few shopping sprees and heat waves to do it.
"Commitment, Kent. I need to see you’re committed to paying what you owe," Julie said. She reached lazily for a magazine. Kent nearly buckled under the weight. The sprinklers sputtered on, mocking him. His arms throbbed, and the boxes felt heavier with every step.
Kent glared back at the pool. "Is this all of them?"
Julie sipped her drink, feigning deep consideration. "We'll see, won’t we?"
The heat was a solid thing. He dragged himself back for the next load, ignored the stubborn itch of humiliation as he passed her sun chair. Julie's skin was already bronzed, glowing against the red of her bikini like Christmas in July. She wasn't even watching. Her complete lack of attention chafed worse than his sticky shirt. Maybe this wasn’t better than the lawn.
Kent shook his head and moved another box.
Julie seemed perfectly at ease, flipping the pages without even glancing at him. In turn, each glance he stole fueled the resentment he was supposed to be working off. No, it grew. Larger than him, larger than life.
Kent sighed. Three trips later and Kent's shoulders felt like they were shredding. Julie's calm was like ice in his throat, grating.
She made a bored gesture in his direction.
"I’m going, I’m going," he muttered, head lowered. Prisoner.
"I almost believe you, dear."
Kent rubbed his shoulder, wished he could ignore it as easily as she ignored him. He wanted to break something, maybe her resolve. Maybe his own.
Halfway through the stack, the boxes became heavier. How? Kent’s eyes bulged as her struggled to keep a box in his arms, needing to use his legs to stabilise it.
"Careful," she called without looking up, her foot dangling in the pool. The water, like the entire house, was a universe away. His jaw tightened like the strings of a cheap violin. His actions were almost noble if nobility felt like dirt, grit, and sarcasm. Maybe he wouldn’t get what he wanted—freedom, the beach, even Julie’s attention—but he could work until nothing mattered.
Task 3: Clean the attic.
Kent sneezed.
The attic smelled like dead things, old things, dust and age and memories. Light filtered through a single window, and dust motes mocked him as they danced around. He waved a hand in front of his face, spitting out dirt and frustration in equal measure.
Julie’s voice floated up the stairs, a siren call to hell. "Get it all done, Kent."
He choked on a reply and another sneeze. This was the worst. His arms screamed for relief, but he grabbed a broom instead. Webs clung to every part of the room, and Kent wondered if a spider bit him what kind of superpowers he’d get. Maybe he’d turn into a kid who had some actual free time.
Kent swept the floor with the same dedication that had gotten him here in the first place. He imagined Marcus at the beach, surrounded by friends and bikinis that weren’t his boss’s. The broom handle dug into his blistered palms, and he pushed harder, until the pile of dust and dirt became a small mountain of failure.
He coughed, doubled over. This was pointless. He rubbed his face with a dirty shirt sleeve, smeared the mess across his cheek. A week ago he might have cared.
The broom thudded against the wall. He leaned against it, feeling the sting of dust and sweat in his eyes. It was a lost cause. The whole thing.
Something caught his eye. A figure, cloaked under a dusty wool blanket. He reached for it, more curious than he should have been, and pulled the fabric away.
A doll? An idol?
Kent almost laughed at the absurdity. An old-fashioned thing, with yellowing lace and painted eyes that stared past him like Julie did. He wiped his hands on his shirt, reached for it, fingers closing around the figure. Maybe it—
One touch, and it was the last contact he had, the last time he felt a thing.
One step, and he felt himself shift and separate, pulling apart like a zipper splitting seams that held his mind and body tight. There was a ripping sensation, a fraying sensation, and then a lightness so complete Kent thought he might disappear entirely.
“What the hell is this?!” he screamed in his mind.
Kent looked down at his hands, saw them glowing a pale blue that didn’t hide what was behind them. See-through? Transparent? He was floating-feather light, above the attic floor. Above the mess he’d made of it, above his own body, which was slumped where he’d left it.
His first thought was to panic. His second thought was that he already had. He drifted forward, then back. What just happened?
Was he dead?
No, that wasn’t right. Dead people didn’t get mad, and Kent was mad as hell. He was anything but dead.
He was alive, more alive than he ever felt. Alive, free of the heat and the drudgery and the persistent ache of muscle and bone. Alive, free, and…shimmering?
Kent felt the spark of something he hadn’t felt in weeks. Possibility.
His spirit stretched into the attic's corners, testing his new reach, dancing through the crowded loft. He shot past his old body, tempted to wave. He'd give it up again without a second thought. Let Julie wonder what magic swapped out her slave, wonder what left her so completely she couldn’t yell at it.
Kent skipped through the abandoned boxes, gliding over ancient bags, years of forgotten excess. One flick of his ghostly finger set the attic in motion, objects swaying like they finally believed in ghosts.
They had to believe. Kent wasn't even trying, not yet. He might have spent the entire day haunting her past, finding new things to set loose.
He stuck his head through the attic wall, through the attic floor, and stared at the room below. It was upside down, or maybe he was? Not that it mattered when he could fly—when he could phase. He could phase through walls. Kent laughed at the brilliance of it, the sheer giddiness of going where no one wanted him. He stretched his spirit like a growing boy, like a growing thought, and shot down into Julie’s world.
He peeked out through the window, head first of course. Then his shoulders followed, then his legs. Next thing, Kent was soaring over the manicured lawn that he manicured. He stopped short of her lawn chair, hovering in the blistering summer heat. He felt none of it. Nice!
The chair, the yard, the entire universe looked different when it wasn't pushing him around. A magazine perched on the small table next to her. She relaxed, as fully and completely as if he'd never existed.
Kent watched, waiting to see if she'd notice the power shift. Notice him. It was all he could do not to burst with thrill of possibilities.
But nothing happened. No matter how long he stared at her, she barely felt his eyes on her.
Then he nudged it, pushing at the magazine with a single finger. It slipped from the table, fluttering down onto the grass.
She glanced at it, not even removing her sunglasses. "Wind’s picking up," she mumbled, and leaned back into her own self-absorption.
"Okay," he thought to himself. "If you want to play, let’s play."
Kent pulled at the towel that draped her sun chair. It slipped to the ground with a thud. This time, Julie's eyes popped open. She stared around the yard like she'd just seen him flung from the roof, like her furniture flung itself from the roof.
Her eyes were slits, suspicious, curious, but not afraid. "Ha ha," Kent heard her say. Fine.
He tugged next at the sunscreen, nudging it off her lap, and watching it roll into the water. Julie sat up. Her brow furrowed, and after a long second she slowly slid the sunglasses down her nose. Kent almost laughed. She was so used to getting her way, she couldn't comprehend the universe acting out.
“It’s not funny,” she shouted at cosmic injustice, and at Kent. “Who’s there?”
Kent hovered above her, a cheeky grin spread across his face. The rules had changed—she was playing the game now, and he was the game master. Kent shoved at the drink in her hand, watched as it splashed cold ice, and lemonade on her sun-warmed skin. Julie yelped, surprised. An ice cube melted between her fingers, over her navel, all along the exact same path Kent’s thoughts wanted to travel.
This time, she stood.
However, it was the wrong move.
Kent yanked at the string on her bikini, wild and reckless. The top slipped loose, and before he could whoop with victory, the world stopped.
It happened again.
The same shifting, the same separation. Julie’s spirit rose out of her body like steam from a kettle. She stared down at herself, and then right through him. Kent froze. Her spirit paused, hovered.
Then Kent did what he did best.
He panicked.
How to fix this? How to fix this? How to not get caught?
Kent grabbed at Julie’s astral form, desperate to reverse what he’d done. Instead, it became even worse. When he came to his sense again, his astral form was anew—only it wasn’t. He was inside Julie’s spirit, possessing her essence.
“What the hell is this?!” he screamed again. This time, out loud.
Kent looked down at himself, but all he saw was Julie’s astral body. Her real one took that very moment to slump sideways, falling on the lawn chair with all the grace of a corpse.
A beautiful, half-naked, very vulnerable corpse.
Kent—Julie—stood in shock, mind racing through the possibilities. He could leave her like this. She’d never know. But then another thought crashed over him, stronger than the first: If he didn’t get caught, he’d never get the chance again.
He dove for Julie’s body, not feeling the grass beneath his feet or the sun on his bare shoulders, feeling only the thrill of new freedom around him. It was a game, and he was winning. Kent entered her body through her astral form, through the space where she had left herself open to him.
He settled in.
Kent sat up, eyes going wide when he moved Julie’s body with his own will. The bikini top hung loose, her skin tingled from the lemonade, and he felt everything. Was everything. He was inside her, but more than that—he was her.
Kent—Julie—drew a breath and another, chest rising and falling in thrilling confirmation of what he’d done. This was crazy.
He looked down at himself, taking in the naked curve of Julie’s breasts, feeling the rich sensation of being in her skin—the weight of her breast sat on her chest, the sway of her streaky blonde hair tickling her back, the air on her damp stomach. He had never felt so much, so intensely, and it was all his.
He moved his hand, watched her manicured fingers respond, marveled at how it felt to have nails like these. The sensations were overwhelming, a tidal wave of newness crashing through him, and he was at the center of it all.
Kent rose from the lounge chair, feeling Julie’s legs unfurl beneath him. Her legs. His legs. He took a step and stumbled slightly—her body was so different from his own—but he laughed, a melodic sound that he’s only ever heard from an outsider’s perspective. Now, it was all around him.
He—Julie—stretched, arching her back, reveling in the supple bend of her spine. He swayed from side to side, his eyes drawn to her breasts as they moved with him, to the way her stomach stretched and flattened under her skin. He was gleeful, reckless, and ready to explore.
Kent hopped in place, feeling the heaviness of having breasts that large, of having them jiggle and shift with Julie’s every motion. He hugged her arms around herself, squeezing tight, feeling the way her soft skin gave under her own touch.
“My God,” he said under his breath. He reached up and cupped Julie’s breasts, felt the fullness of them in his new hands. This was better than he could have imagined. “The things I could do…”
A wicked grin spread across his face, a thought forming in his mind that he couldn’t let go of even if he tried. The lemonade was drying on his—her—skin, a sticky sweetness that called out to him. He trailed a finger across Julie’s stomach, felt the tacky residue there. He brought the finger to his mouth, tasted it, and shivered at the sensation. Her body was alive with feeling, with want—Kent’s wants.
“What a silly little blonde I am,” he said, mocking Julie with her own voice. “To spill lemonade all over my tits.”
Kent laughed, delighted with how it felt to be Julie, with how it felt to be free. He let her arms fall to her sides, let them hang loose as he enjoyed the sensation of heaviness on her chest, of the tightness in her bikini top still tied around his waist, and then with no warning at all, he tore it off.
He threw the top in an exaggerated motion that reminded him of Julie, letting it flop somewhere on the grass. With a satisfied sigh, he lay back down on the lounge chair, eager to savor it all. The sun was hot, and it warmed her skin, heating up the stickiness that covered him.
“Kent!” he called, dragging out the syllables of his own name. “The attic better be spotless. Ah, ah,” he tutted in Julie’s voice, as if he were really talking to himself. “I don’t need attitude. I need the attic clean, and I need it now!”
He laughed again, louder this time, and watched the way Julie’s breasts shook with it. He cupped them again, feeling the weight of them, the heat of them under his hands. He kneaded them, felt her nipples harden under his palms. “Yes please.”
The way she responded was electric, was addictive. He circled her nipples with her fingers, feeling the give and pull of her flesh under his touch. He pinched them, tugged at them, and gasped as the sensation rippled through her entire body.
Kent—Julie—arched off the lounge chair, relishing in the newfound closeness of her own skin against itself. Her body, his body now, was a treasure trove of feeling. Guilt was one of them, but Kent discarded it the moment he felt the heat of Julie’s skin.
His new skin.
Kent let his fingers wander, hesitating nowhere, exploring each inch of Julie’s body with an urgency that was all his own. His hands moved from her breasts to her stomach, reveling in the tautness of it, the smoothness. This was incredible. Nothing like his own body, nothing like the weak and overworked thing he’d left behind to gather dust.
The lemonade was a slick trail that led him further down, but Kent wanted to savour every part of Julie’s body.
He grabbed the abandoned cup and found two melting ice cubes in it. Without thinking, he placed one against the pulse point of her neck and felt the cold travel through him, felt it race along her veins in a shiver that made him gasp. He ran it down to her breasts, tracing the hard ice along the soft skin, watching as it left a shiny trail in its wake.
He groaned with pleasure as heat met chill, as her body—his body—reacted to every small sensation.
Kent teased the ice around Julie’s nipples, feeling it melt fast against her warmth, feeling the slickness of water and lemonade mix on her skin. This was too good. Too intense. He pressed harder, drawing circles until nothing but a wet pool remained. Then he took the second ice cube and slid it down her stomach, felt it slip over Julie’s navel, felt it dip lower. He shivered with raw want, with a hunger that was all his own.
Her body was so needy.
Kent couldn’t get enough of her breasts, wanted to hold them, squeeze them, lose himself in the swell and the softness. He ran his hands over her glistening skin, slick and sweet. He rolled Julie’s nipples between her fingers again, felt a tight heat coil at her center, felt the pleasure spread. He was giddy, greedy, and relentless.
Another pinch, another nipple. Kent felt harden beneath his touch—her touch—their touch. He groaned at the intensity of it, the foreignness of it. His fingers were relentless, trailing over Julie’s breasts, thumbs teasing every part of her perky pink nipples. They were like something he'd never felt, like she'd never let him feel. Moans pulled from somewhere within, or perhaps somewhere very far beyond him, mingled with the summer air.
His arousal grew, a heaviness that pulled in his stomach, one that wasn’t accompanied by the swelling of a cock—no. This was all heat and wetness. He could feel the warmth of it spreading, the want of it filling him, and he was unstoppable now, a force with no fear.
He couldn’t resist. Kent settled back against the lounge chair, really made himself comfortable, and let Julie’s fingers trail along her sides. His fingers hooked Julie’s bikini bottom strings, tugging it up higher, so high the fabric pulled tight through her legs, through pussy lips. Her wetness was slick against the bikini bottom, and he moaned, feeling the pressure, the friction of it.
“Holy shit,” he murmured, looking down at how the fabric tucked snug against Julie’s body, feeling the way her pussy responded to the tightness. It had him biting Julie’s lips, moaning softly.
Kent let the strings snap back, rolled his hips against the chair, felt every bit of Julie’s body respond with a raw hunger that was all his own. Then, he loosened one side, then the other, freeing the bikini bottom from her hips and sliding it slowly down. He watched it peel off with a slow stickiness, felt every inch of the cool air as it hit her bare skin, hit her exposed pussy. It left her bare and open to the world. Open to him.
Kent loved every second of it—he wanted more.
He let his hands roam, feeling the soft curve of Julie’s thighs, feeling their warmth, their strength, the way they flexed and tensed as he touched her.
The lemonade was everywhere now, a sweet slickness that begged for more attention. He slid his hands between her legs, feeling them part beneath his touch, feeling the wetness there—a different kind of wetness, one that made him ache, one that made his gasp.
Julie’s pussy.
It was soft, wet. So much wetter than any part of him used to be.
His fingers traced over the smooth skin of Julie’s waxed mound, and Kent knew he was lost to it. He spread her lips with Julie’s fingers, found wetness there, and the heat. It was incredible.
His fingers were sure of themselves, even if the feelings they caused were not. He couldn’t handle it as curiosity fuelled every actions—Kent traced the outer vaginal folds of Julie’s pussy, toying with the heat that roared inside him, that wanted him to dip his fingers in, to move faster, to make Julie come. He rubbed her clit in circles he could feel all the way through himself, all the way up to his nipples, all the way back down. He was breathing hard now, fast and shallow as a dog in heat.
His mind couldn’t handle it, but her body could. His body could. Kent’s fingers massaged her clit in slow, maddening circles, building the intensity of it, building the pressure. He could feel her start to float away from herself, from everything, and Kent whimpered as he felt it too.
He pushed two fingers inside her, felt the wetness close around them. It was tight and hot and nothing like what he’d imagined, but better, better than he’d imagined. He moved his fingers in and out, feeling the slickness grow, feeling her body respond to it. His thumb circled her clit, his other hand squeezing her breast—the sounds, they were music to his ears.
Kent pushed her fingers deep again, fucking into her with growing urgency. He was past the point of caring, past the point of restraint. He pumped her pussy, felt her tighten around the fingers, felt her breath catch in her throat as she started to let go, to really let go.
It was intoxicating, with each squelch, each stroke, a musk scent filled the air—a scent that Julie’s and his. He was so wet, so turned on, Kent was losing his mind. He gathered slickness on his fingertips, savoring it as he brought fingers to his mouth. Her lips parted; her tongue tasted it—tasted herself—and Kent shivered at the sensation, at how different it was from anything he'd known.
Kent moaned, Julie’s voice responded, and it was heaven. His fingers moved faster, more desperate. He was so close, so close to everything.
“Fuuuck,” Kent said, felt the pleasure build and coil. His other hand kneaded her breasts while he licked and sucked at his fingers, alternating between the two until both were coated in sweat and juice and the taste of summer freedom.
It was almost more than he could handle.
He pressed fingers against himself again, dipping deeper this time. Dipping farther into her—inside himself—felt the slick heat of her pussy wrap around him, pull him in. His breath came faster now. His hands moved with a mind of their own, slick against her skin, wet against his thighs.
Julie’s breathing was erratic, and Kent stretched out, arm falling behind his head, mouth parting on every moan, every whine. He turned his head, nose brushing against Julie’s armpit; she’d never let anyone near there before—not even herself.
He groaned again.
Kent-as-Julie buried her face in the hollow crook where arm met shoulder; her shoulder; their shoulder; felt another wave of dizziness at how hot and alive she smelled; tasted another drop of sweat as it ran down his cheek; hers; theirs.
He took a deep inhale, sniffing himself—herself—into a frenzy. She smelled of expensive perfume and a raw muskiness that came form sitting under the summer sun—she smelled of sex. It was new, and it was familiar, and it made him bite down on the skin there as his fingers moved faster, as he felt the pressure build and build.
Kent wanted to consume her.
His tongue darted out as his fingers kept moving, faster still, guided by instinct or greed or maybe just teenage hormones run amok. Julie’s skin tasted salty-sweet; her sweat tasted like freedom.
The world narrowed to the space between Julie’s legs, and Kent gave up entirely on restraint. He moved faster now, thrusting with an urgency that left him panting for breath.
Every touch sent shockwaves through him. It was a new kind of heat—a heat so intense it bordered on pain then circled back again. The sun bore down on him, too, like a spotlight as he squirmed and writhed beneath its attention.
It was happening.
He was going to come.
Kent rocked against the chair, against her fingers, against himself. He was so close.
His back arched off the chair as waves crashed over him: tidal waves, rogue waves; hard enough to knock sense loose from his head; hard enough that it didn’t matter when Julie's voice bubbled up inside, “Oh God oh God oh Godddddd…!”
He panted, fingers wet with her juice, body slick with her sweat, his mind blown. Kent lay still when it subsided—limp with satisfaction yet buzzing with energy.
A lazy smile spread across his face—her face as he let the warmth settle in. He was sated but hungry for so much more; dizzy from exertion yet clear-headed for once about what kind of summer awaited him now: One where Marcus didn’t owe him shit anymore.
One where Marcus didn’t owe him shit anymore.
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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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So this is a story all about how two guys switch bodies with their female bullies and have a reeeeeeeeally fun time.
I saw this as a commission and took it a while ago and kinda took too long with it, so if the OP is still here............sowwy. Hope you enjoy anyways.
Milo couldn’t be happier with his life right now. He’s at the tail end of the worst part of his life, his freelancing career is starting to get off the ground, and he’s now in a relationship with the greatest girl he’s ever come into contact with. He never thought he’d be this happy in his senior year.
“Shut up,” Rosaline says with a giggle, lightly shoving Milo, “I like kittens. Leave me alone.”
“I’m just saying they’re little prissy brats,” Milo retorts with a shrug, “Yeah, they’re cute, but they just go around ordering you around like they own everything. They’re like the late stages for a spoiled rich kid.”
“Well, I don’t care what you say. I’m getting one.”
“And I’m not gonna stop you. I’ll just place it somewhere really high if it annoys me.”
“Then it’ll climb back down and scratch you.”
“Then I’ll eat its food.”
“Then it’ll bite you.”
“Then I’ll bite it back to assert dominance.”
Rosaline giggles again at Milo before saying,
“Oh my gosh, you’re such a jerk.”
“What, you never complained when I ate your kitten before. What’s different now?”
“Milo, stooop.”
As the pair enjoy each other’s company, Milo’s friend, Rayleigh approaches them, taking note of their merriment.
“What’s up, lovebirds?” he starts, “What’s going on here?”
“Nothing much,” Milo answers, “Just discussing how she wants her kitty in my mouth and how it’ll result in me getting scratched.”
Rosaline gasps and blushes at Milo’s phrasing before pounding his shoulder, prompting him to laugh at her embarrassment.
“Classy, you two, real classy,” Rayleigh says with a smirk, “Well, the reason I came over here was to inform you that Alex is inviting everyone to his house for a bit of an end of the year get together. So you guys wanna ride with me or do you wanna continue your kitten conversation at your place first?”
Rosaline pouts at his statement before folding her arms. Milo embraces her in his arm before answering with,
“Yeah, we’ll go. Didn’t think that Alex was the party type.”
“Senior year just brings out the inner party animal, I guess.”
“That honestly doesn’t surprise me. Especially since he’s been stressing like crazy since the year started.”
“Yeah, this might be more therapeutic for him than anything. Alright, I’ll tell him he’s got two others on the guest list.”
Rayleigh walks away, leaving the pair alone again.
“You’re so embarrassiiiing,” Rosaline whines through a playful pout,
“Yeah, you’re right, I’m the worst,” Milo plays along, “Tell you what, I’ll embarrass myself by fucking up a backflip when we get to the party. Will that make it better?”
“Noo. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“It won’t be permanent. I’ll just knock the wind out of myself.”
“No. You’re not gonna inflict harm upon yourself in any way.”
“Ok, you win, mom. I won’t intentionally hurt myself. But what if I-”
“Oh, hey there, Milo!” a familiar voice says, gathering the pair’s attention,
“How are you doing?” another familiar voice follows.
Milo groans in agitation before palming his face, immediately recognizing the two voices. These two girls have made his and Rayleigh’s entire high school experience a living hell. The fact that they only have to deal with one more month of it couldn’t make them happier. Not only are they gonna be done with school forever, but there’s a fairly favorable chance that they’ll never have to see either of these girls for the rest of their natural lives.
“What do you want?” Milo questions, not even looking at the pair above him,
“Is that any way to greet your best friends?” Bianca teases,
“Yeah, why do you have to be so mean to us?” Jenna chimes in, ruffling his hair.
Not wanting to be framed for inflicting harm on the girls again, Milo just endures the verbal and physical torment.
“Ooo, Milo,” Jenna taunts, turning her attention to Rosaline, “Why didn’t you tell us you got yourself another girlfriend?”
“W-wait, ‘another’?” Rosaline questions, confused at the insinuation, “What is she talking about?”
“Oh, he didn’t tell you about us? Milo, you big meanie. You can’t keep these things from her. You’re in a relationship. You gotta tell her these things.”
Irritated with the lies she’s spewing, Milo snaps back with,
“What? What are you talking about? There was never an ‘us’.”
Jenna brings her hand to her chest before letting out an exaggerated gasp and saying,
“Oh my. So cruel.”
“Yeah, Milo,” Bianca piles on, “Not cool, dude. How could you forget all the good times we all had?”
“You...all?” Rosaline questions with disgust,
“Rose, I swear, they’re lying,” Milo assures, “They’re just a couple of assholes. Let’s just go.”
He stands up, bringing a reluctant Rosaline up with him, but before they can walk away, Bianca stops them in their tracks, saying,
“Wow, quite the language you have there, Milo.”
“Come on, you know good and well that boy has quite the mouth on him,” Jenna says, “Let me tell you something, you’re a very lucky lady. Has he shown you how educated his tongue is yet? He just reaches all the right places, doesn’t he?”
“Well, he’s kind of a cheater. He’s basically obsessed with having you sit on his face. But he more than makes up for it with how much he’ll touch you, know what I mean?”
Rosaline’s face gets redder and redder with every word. Partly because of the perverse speaking from the pair, but mostly because their descriptions of Milo’s actions are 100% accurate in her experience. Their claims are getting more believable the longer she listens.
“Oh, if you think that’s cheating, just wait until you see how he found out how to do those things,” Jenna says, “One look at that internet history would have a nymphomaniac blushing.”
Milo’s immediately shaken to his core as soon as the mention of his search history is mentioned. Taking note of his sudden apprehensive demeanor, Rosaline looks at him with even more disdain than before.
“Not only that, but let’s just say he might have the law giving him the side eye,” Bianca chimes in, further strengthening Rosaline’s suspicions,
“What-...what do they mean by that, Milo?” Rosaline questions, fearing the answer,
“Rosaline, just listen,” Milo starts, trying his hardest to dissolve her suspicions of him.
He takes her hands into his, but she immediately snatches them away, staring directly into his eyes and holding back tears in hers.
“What do they mean by that?” she repeats, demanding to know the answer,
“Well, if you’re that curious, let’s just find out together,” Jenna says, swiping away on Milo’s phone.
Milo, petrified beyond belief, tries desperately to retrieve his phone. But Bianca stops him in his tracks, holding him in place and giggling.
“Seriously, putting your phone in shorts that baggy is just begging people to snatch it,” she says as Milo tries fighting out of her grasp,
“Ok! Let’s see what we have here on Milo Turner’s search history on his phone!” Jenna announces, gathering the attention of everyone in the gym,
“Jenna! No! Stop! Ple-” Milo pleads before Bianca covers his mouth with her hand,
“Alright, let’s see, here! Ahem! Just last night we have: ‘POV Step daughter sucks step dad’s cock while mom sleeps’! ‘Mommy domme pegs her baby boy’! ‘Kitsune femdom erotic audio’! ‘Granny stuck in a wall and begs for anal pounding’! ‘Dragon Maid Kanna Yuri Smutfic’! ‘...Wait a minute...What’s this?!”
Milo, instantly realizing what Jenna has found, tries even harder to break out of Bianca’s hold. But she has him locked in too tight. His fighting proves to be for naught. He’s already overflowing with embarrassment, but if Jenna follows through with exposing what she’s found, he’ll never hear the end of it. So he continues desperately fighting Bianca until,
“Big brother you’re the best
Especially when you touch my breast
I like the way that you touch me
Your chin-chin makes me kimochi
Just put your dick in my mouth
I’ll make it go in and out-”
The entire gym erupts in a mix of laughter, repulsion, second-hand embarrassment, and a combination of all three. Milo can’t even bring himself to look at Rosaline, who is recoiling at him with a look of shock, horror, confusion...and hatred. She doesn’t recognize him anymore. She can’t believe what he’s been hiding from her. And she fears that’s not even a fraction of what he’s been hiding.
Rayleigh snatches Milo’s phone out of Jenna’s hand before frantically closing out of the tab. But the damage is already done. Everyone’s either laughing at Milo or giving him a look of utter contemptment, Jenna and Bianca are joining the former, laughing up a fit, and all Milo can do is sit back down against the closed bleachers and cover his face in shame. Rayleigh then notices that Rosaline is nowhere to be found. He scans the gym for her, catching her angrily storming through the gym door. He then spots Milo’s lime hoodie that he let her wear haphazardly tossed in the trash bin.
From the noises of his peers, to the tragic end of his best friend’s relationship, to the heinous act that the two girls before him committed, Rayleigh is seething with rage. They’ve done some terrible things to them in the past, but this was diabolical. He can’t believe that they would stoop this low. They completely demolished the image of one of the most respected guys in the school. And they’re laughing about it. It’s so infuriating to him. They get to do anything they want with no consequences. No one to teach them what happens when you constantly meaninglessly antagonize. Well, he’s had enough. He refuses to have that be the case anymore. Somehow, someway, Rayleigh will embed that message into their skulls.
A few weeks pass after the incident and Milo continues to remain in his room. He doesn’t bother mending anything with Rosaline, finding it to be a lost cause, he doesn’t interact with his parents, he doesn’t answer Rayleigh’s attempts to reach out to him, he doesn’t even plan on attending school for the last month. He’s too ashamed to bear the thought of showing his face in public with everyone knowing what they know. Thankfully, his grades allow him to afford to do that.
As Milo continues lying in his bed and thinking about his ruined status in the eyes of his former peers, he hears a knock on his door. Believing it to be his mother, he ignores it in hopes that she’ll leave him alone. As expected there’s another knock and it’s met with the same treatment. He’ll set her mind at ease when he eats his breakfast later. He just doesn’t want to see her or anyone.
But things take an unexpected turn as another knock is heard. This time being slightly louder than the previous knocks. However, it still doesn’t prompt a reaction from Milo. He just continues to lay in his bed in hopes that the unwanted visitor will get his message. That is until he finally hears Rayleigh’s voice say,
“Ok, screw this. Open the door, dumbass!”
Milo is taken aback by the subversion, but that still doesn’t motivate him to get out of bed. He still doesn’t want any company. Rayleigh ignores Milo’s nonverbal objection and opens the door himself and steps into his room.
“Sup, dude,” he greets, “Haven’t seen you in a bit. You doin’ alright?”
Milo doesn’t answer. He doesn’t even look at his intruder.
“Yeah, I figured. Don’t worry, I’m not gonna stand here and give you some long-winded boring speech about how you shouldn’t waste your time wallowing away in the confinements of your room and how you need to pull yourself up by your bootstraps and fuck the horse and whatever. Not gonna do any of that. That’s just gonna be a huge waste of time. Instead of telling you to get out of this room, I’m dragging you. Come on.”
He grabs onto Milo’s arm and pulls him out of bed. Milo doesn’t really put up a fight. For one, Rayleigh would just relent until he conceded. Plus, he doesn’t have the energy to persist. It’s just easier to follow along until Rayleigh’s done. The lack of a struggle takes Rayleigh by surprise, but it doesn’t slow him down. He drags his friend downstairs and outside into the passenger seat of his car before stepping into the driver’s seat.
“Ok,” he starts, “We’re gonna go somewhere.”
“Yeah, we’re in a car,” Milo grumbles, wanting this to be over and done with already,
“How right you are. Now, where do you wanna go?”
“Back to my room.”
“Alright, bowling alley it is.”
Milo sighs as Rayleigh grabs his laptop from the dashboard and places it on his lap. Rayleigh then starts typing on the laptop, prompting Milo to look on in confusion. What was the point of asking him if he was just going to type away on his computer? He rolls his eyes before leaning his head on his hand and looking out the window.
But just one glance shakes Milo to his core. Beside him is someone’s car that he doesn’t recognize. He looks forward through the windshield discovering the aforementioned bowling alley. As he takes a moment to process what exactly just happened, Rayleigh just gives him a smug grin.
“Yeah, still wanna be in your room now, Debbie downer?” he questions.
“Wh-.....WHAT?!” Milo shouts, not able to form any other words in his mind,
“Cool, isn’t it? I don’t know what happened, either. I just accidentally spilled some soda on it a few nights ago and it kinda sparked out. A full day in cinnamon and sage coated rice later and I’m in the possession of a keyboard that grants anything I type.”
“Creepy. Wait, cinnamon and sage?”
“Michelle was trying something and mom and dad wanted to be supportive.”
“You know, you say things like this and wonder why I wonder what the hell goes on in your house.”
“ANYWAY, you do know what this means, right?”
“Yeah. We can pretty much do whatever we want.”
“That’s one way of looking at it.”
Milo’s mind immediately starts racing at the infinite possibilities. He’s still trying to fully digest this. Anything that’s typed on that laptop becomes reality. They can travel back in time. They can raise the dead. They can achieve world peace. They can summon super models. They can change the laws. They can reshape the entirety of what they’ve come to know. And no one can stop them.
But Milo’s brainstorming is brought to an abrupt end as he hears Rayleigh typing on his laptop. With curiosity piquing, he asks,
“What are you doing?”
“Just a bit of debt collecting.”
“What do you mean by that?”
Right as he finishes his sentence, Rayleigh along with the rest of the scenery starts to fade. Confusion overtakes his mind as he peculiarly finds himself in a standing position with an unsettling unstable platform below his feet. As reality warps before him, Milo starts getting dizzy. He closes his eyes to avert the shifting setting.
After moments of patiently waiting, he starts to focus on what he can to get a feel of where Rayleigh could possibly have sent them. He takes a step forward, feeling the unstable platform shifting with the weight applied from his step along with a subtle squeak following behind. He immediately recognizes the platform to be a bed. He’s in someone’s bedroom. But as he’s coming to terms with his current environment, he hears something that freezes him in place,
‘Woah, this bottle is stronger than I thought it’d be. I’m already getting light headed.’
There’s no mistaking that voice. That’s Jenna’s. Milo snaps his eyes open, dreading the sight of the soulless blue eyes of the sadistic brunette. However, to his surprise, she’s nowhere to be found. He scans the bedroom for the girl, but she’s not seen anywhere. But during his search, he feels a slightly irritating sensation on his shoulders. He reaches for the source of the feelings, discovering it to be...his long...brown...hair.
‘The hell?’ he questions in his head,
‘Wait, who said that?’ Jenna’s voice questions,
‘Where the hell are you?!’ he exclaims, walking all over the room,
‘What the fuck is going on?! Why can’t I move where I want?!’
Milo relentlessly continues his pursuit, checking under the collection of plushies on the bed.
‘Wait, stop! I just organized those!’
Looking in the closet and carelessly tossing aside the shirts, skirts, dresses, and cheerleader uniforms.
‘Quit it! You’re going to rip them!’
Ripping down the signed boy band and inspiration posters to find a hole or something.
‘No! What is wrong with you?! I got that for my 6th birthday, you asshole!’
But coming up short at every turn. And the constant sounds of disapproval to his actions are driving him insane. Why can he hear her, but not see her? What did Rayleigh do to him?
In his pursuit, he passes by a mirror, catching a glimpse of himself. And with the brief sight of the reflection, he immediately recognizes that something isn’t right. He hesitantly steps in front of the mirror, taking a look at what is shown before him. His growing confusion and anger are immediately mixed with shock and horror.
His rugged hands have been replaced with the soft pale hands that have slapped his butt, earning a loud sound to be heard that caused him to catch the blame and be labeled a perv. His long hairy legs have been replaced with the short smooth legs that pinned down his arms while being force fed worms. His emerald green eyes have been replaced with the soulless blue eyes that gleefully watched his suffering over the years. His lightly bearded stoic face has been replaced with the clean silky face that smiles and laughs at his misfortunes. He is Jenna.
Milo stumbles back in disbelief. He’s in the body of the person he hates more than life itself. Why would Rayleigh do this to him? Where is he?
“Wow, you really don’t make it hard to find out where you are, huh?” he hears Bianca’s voice say behind him.
He turns around to the door and he spots the caramel toned girl standing in the doorframe accompanied with her signature curly brown hair, hazel eyes, and smug grin. He reflexively panics at first, but his mind starts piecing everything together. If he’s been put in Jenna’s body, it’s probably a safe bet that Rayleigh followed through with the obvious. And as if to make it even more obvious, upon further investigation, Milo spots his laptop in her arm.
“Wha-...what did you do?” Milo questions, covering his mouth as he hears Jenna’s voice instead of his own,
“I thought I made myself clear,” Rayleigh replies, “We’re gonna do some debt collecting. Remember? ‘We can do anything we want’. These skanks know damn well what that’s like. Year after year, they’re relentlessly on our necks with no one believing a word of it because ‘They’re such sweethearts. What could they possibly gain from doing anything malicious?’. Well, here they are: drinking alcohol, prank calling authoritarian figures, and committing other various acts that they have no business doing while we tried so desperately to stop them after we just so happened to pass by.”
Milo considers Rayleigh’s words, admitting to himself how fun it would be to give them a taste of their own medicine. But before his voice of reason can speak up, he hears Jenna saying in a dreadful tone,
‘Listen, I don’t know who or what you guys are or what you want, but just take it. Take whatever you want. Just please leave us alone. We don’t wanna cause any trouble. Please don’t hurt us.’
She wants mercy to be shown to her. And there’s no doubt in his mind that Bianca’s pleading for the same thing. They have the nerve to beg for mercy after everything they’ve done. Then his mind suddenly goes back to a few weeks ago. They ruined his image. They decimated most of his friendships. They demolished his relationship. The last thought cements his mind. He wants them to suffer.
“I’m in,” Milo says,
“That’s my boy,” Rayleigh replies.
The night ensues, seeing the pair of vengeful boys finally giving their oppressors their just desserts. Milo mixes a concoction of different drinks with Jenna expressing her disapproval throughout the entirety of her pleas. But her words fall on deaf ears as Milo gulps down every last drop of the drink.
“Woah, Jenna,” Rayleigh taunts, filming his friend’s actions, “Those drinks looked expensive. You sure your parents will be alright with only getting a quarter of those bottles?”
“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Milo replies with his most obnoxious fabricated valley girl impression, “Mommy and daddy will just get more.”
After a few more drink mixes, Milo takes Bianca’s phone, directing Rayleigh to the direction of Jenna’s parents’ room. They giddily giggle at the possibilities as they walk through the door. The very first thing that they spot is Jenna’s father’s nightstand, which contains a wedding photo, a necklace that reads “Love of my life”, a small teddy bear holding a heart containing a picture of Jenna’s mom, a stack of $100 bills, and the start of a bead portrait that looks like it took months to get a corner accomplished.
“Awww,” Rayleigh and Milo say in unison,
“How cute can a couple of people be?” Milo questions, getting closer to the nightstand,
‘No, no please!’ Jenna pleads, ‘Just stop! They’re gonna kill me if you do anything to this!’
“I know,” Rayleigh replies, picking up the teddy bear and gradually pulling at its head, “This is why marriage is so magical. Look at all of these one of a kind artifacts. And you wanna know the best thing about them? They’re just. So. Durable!”
The bear’s head rips off of its torso with Rayleigh’s last word. The pair giggle as Jenna cries in fear of what his dad will do to her after seeing this.
“Oops,” Rayleigh taunts, “Guess I was wrong. Looks like they won’t be needing this anymore.”
He rips the heart out of the bear’s sewed clutches before snapping it in half and tossing everything behind her.
“This might as well follow, right?” Milo says, picking up the wedding photo and throwing it at the wall, causing it to shatter,
“Oooo,” Rayleigh says patronizingly, “You broke iiit. You’re gonna get in trouble!”
He shoves Milo into the nightstand, causing it to knock over and send the beads scattering all over the floor.
“Well I won’t get into that much trouble,” Milo replies, “I just saved dad all that time and energy of finishing up that stupid fucking project.”
“Huh. I guess you’re right.”
They head out of the room with the girls dreading what they’re planning to do with them next. Rayleigh leads them to the dining room table, ensuring that he’s in frame of the video before sitting on the table and looking down at the table cloth.
“Hey, Jenna,” he starts, rubbing the cloth, “This table cloth looks really nice.”
‘Wait! No!’ Jenna begs, ‘Please! My aunt made that!’
“Like it?” Milo retorts, “Aunt Whatsherface just handed it to us. She’s such a fucking cheapskate. She couldn’t even be bothered to use Egyptian silk. Fucking bitch.”
“Yeah. Such a waste of quality if you ask me. But I know how to make it so much better.”
Rayleigh smirks directly into the camera as he crawls to the corner of the table. He then takes his preferred spot, leaning back on his left arm and bringing his right hand to the front of Bianca’s shorts. He rubs her clothed center as Milo continues filming, enjoying the show in front of him.
“It’s only right for such potential to have a more...modern woman’s touch, right?” he questions with a giggle as he pushes the shorts to the side, exposing Bianca’s wet pussy.
Milo gets closer as Rayleigh slowly starts moving Bianca’s hips back and forth, grinding her pussy against the table and soaking the cloth in her juices. He tilts his head back and moans as he starts rubbing Bianca’s moist folds to amplify the sensations. Milo gets a close up of Bianca’s swollen center, getting even more turned on the longer he observes her actions and listens to her sounds of enjoyment.
“That’s one way to improve something so heinous,” Milo teases, getting inches away from Bianca’s center, “You think my aunt would appreciate the honor of having such a pretty little pussy touching her disaster?”
“No doubt in my mind,” Rayleigh says in between moans, “Can’t wait until she sees this. Just the thought of her watching her niece’s friend getting off on her stupid cloth just makes me so fucking wet. Imagine the look on her face if she were here right now.”
“That would be so fucking hot. Maybe she’d wanna thank you in some way for improving her work.”
“Really? Like how?”
Without giving it much thought, Milo leans forward, sticks out Jenna’s tongue, and gives Bianca’s pussy a long sensual lick, prompting another blissful moan. He has no idea what prompted him to do it, but he’s not gonna complain about it. He thinks about repeating the action, but his better judgment emerges as he realizes what he just did. Not wanting to ruin the fun, he pushes his regretful feelings aside and continues filming.
“Ooo, you naughty girl,” Rayleigh says in a sultry tone, “You’re lucky your aunt’s not here now. You’d be punished for doing something so nasty.”
“Well, she’s not here, is she?” Milo responds, “So no punishment for me.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that. I have half a mind to bend you over and spank your misbehaving little butt.”
“Yet all you can do is talk about it, so I’m safe.”
Rayleigh slowly stops grinding before hopping down from the table. Milo tries to make a hasty retreat, but Rayleigh’s too fast. He grabs Jenna’s arm and pulls her back as the pair exchange laughter due to the roughhousing. Jenna’s then bent over the table, taking nearly the same exact position that Bianca was, but in reverse as Bianca’s hands explore her body. Milo moans in response to the softness of her hands as her hands reach Jenna’s awaiting butt.
“What, this is what constitutes spanking now?” Milo taunts, “I knew you wouldn’t do-”
He’s cut off as a loud slap is heard after Bianca’s hand swat’s Jenna’s ass. Milo whimpers in response to the sudden slap. But before he can collect his bearings, another strike is delivered, garnering the same reaction.
“What was that?” Rayleigh questions, “You were saying that I wouldn’t, right?”
Another slap ensues as Milo starts grinding Jenna’s pussy against the table, coating her shorts with Bianca’s fluids.
“Bad girls like you need to learn respect.”
Slap.
“You need to know who’s in charge.”
Slap.
“Someone really needs to put bad little girls like you in your place. You need to learn what happens when you step out of line.”
Slap.
With each strike that is delivered, a whimper is heard. And the more spanks that occur, the more those whimpers are heard as moans. Not only that, but the things being said and the way that they’re being said are making Milo feel things he never thought possible. Realizing the effects that the spankings are having, Milo snaps out of his pleasure fueled trance and leans up from the table.
“O-ok, Ray,” he says, stopping the recording, “Tha-that should be plenty to get them back now. There’s no way they’ll push us around anymore. Plus, I’ve read Jenna’s mind and her parents might be back soon.”
“Well, first of all, Bianca apparently made it so that they might not be back until Monday. So she is good for something. Who knew? And second of all, you still haven’t learned your lesson.”
“Oh...Well, uh-...I’m-...Tired! Yeah, just absolutely tired. Yawn, sleep, counting sheep, and what have you. Feminine charms like mine can’t just appear out of nowhere.”
Milo’s slightly taken aback by the last sentence he uttered. He didn’t even mean to say it. But he just brushes it aside, thinking of it as stress taking over for a moment. Meanwhile, Rayleigh looks at Milo, not buying his blatant lies.
“Wanna try something else or do you actually think I’m that stupid?”
“I-...I uh-...”
Milo can’t think of anything. He’s panicking too much. He stumbles on his words for a bit before he’s silenced by Bianca’s finger on his lips as he hears her voice shush him before saying,
“Relax. You know we’re not doing anything wrong. I know we’re not doing anything wrong. We’re just a couple of goofball girls having some fun, right? You like having fun, don’t you?”
The young brunette is conflicted. On one hand, this is going far beyond anything previously anticipated. There was no implication that the night would see both of them in this position. Not only that, but Milo always made it abundantly clear that roleplaying will never be something he indulges in. But on the other, hearing the soothing sexy tones of the ravishing ebony girl as her gorgeous hazel eyes are fixated on the ocean blue eyes of her prey tip the scales pretty significantly.
“N-no,” the confused brunette weakly protests, “B-Bianca, we can’t. We’re...we’re not-...ngh~”
The final protests of the brunette are immediately silenced as Bianca’s lips latch onto her neck, gently sucking on it. Jenna’s then lifted onto the table as she closes her eyes and tilts her head back from the newfound pleasure delivered from Bianca.
“That’s it,” Bianca whispers in between kisses, “Just let go of all that worry and overthinking. Be in the here and now. Don’t worry about what might happen. Feel my lips on your neck. My hands on your nice, soft, delicate body. Yeah, you like that, don’t you?”
Jenna can’t respond. She’s too infatuated with the various sensations coursing through her body. With each kiss, with every word, with every inch of her body that’s being touched by her pursuer, the more she obeys her commands. She’s slowly but surely giving into her desires.
Bianca then trails kisses from Jenna’s neck to her mouth, still exploring her body with her hands under her shirt. Jenna leans back on her hands, balancing herself as Bianca deepens the kiss. This causes Jenna to give in even more. She loves the feeling of Bianca’s lips on hers. She could stay like this forever.
After a few minutes into the kiss, Bianca briefly breaks it to pull Jenna’s shirt over her head. Afterwards, they resume the kiss with Bianca grabbing onto Jenna’s DD cup chest with her right hand and caressing the submissive brunette’s face with her right. Jenna moans into the kiss as Bianca squeezes it. She’s so firm, yet tender with her. She’s never felt anything like this before.
With every moment that passes of Bianca grabbing and kneading Jenna’s chest, the more Jenna longs to have her wrap her lips around her nipple. The thought alone drives Jenna wild. The more she thinks about it, the more she needs it. And as if reading her mind, Bianca pulls away from the needy brunette, trailing kisses down her neck and to her well developed chest. She looks up at Jenna, giving her a coy grin before latching her mouth onto her right breast. Jenna lightly moans as Bianca licks and sucks on her right breast, while squeezing and kneading the other.
The look on Bianca’s face along with the various sensations caused by her worshiping her chest earn more reactions from Jenna. She moans louder, gripping onto the table cloth as Bianca continues enjoying her body. Bianca then alternates, latching her mouth onto her left breast and squeezing the other.
Jenna’s in pure bliss. By this point, her fears and anticipation are nonexistent. She just wants this to go on forever. She’s feeling pleasures that were previously never thought possible. All at the hands of her best friend.
After moments of the intense pleasure, Jenna’s starting to feel an overwhelming sensation rushing throughout her body. Her moans get louder and louder as this extreme sensation builds and builds. Eventually, it proves to be too much for her and she arches her back, lightly spasming as she reaches her orgasm.
Jenna lies back on the table, riding out her orgasm as Bianca looks down at her, giggling at what she’s caused. She brings a hand to Jenna’s bare tummy, lightly rubbing it and saying,
“Good girl. See what happens when you fully give yourself to me? You feel wonderous sensations that you never would have otherwise. Now, do you want more?”
“Y-yes, please,” Jenna replies almost immediately, drunk with pleasure,
“That’s what I thought.”
Bianca guides her hand from Jenna’s tummy to her abdomen, latching her fingers onto the waistband of her shorts before pulling them down below her legs and fully exposing her entire body. Bianca then fully guides Jenna onto the table before taking off her own shirt and shorts and joining her on top of it. Before doing anything else, she observes the girl’s full frame. She watches from her chest as it rises and falls from her catching her breath to her soaking, wet, little pussy. She’s practically salivating at the sight of her. She can’t wait to ravage her. But before she does, an idea crosses her mind.
“You wanna know something?” Bianca starts, bringing a hand to Jenna’s drenched slit and lightly rubbing it,
“W-what?” Jenna answers, enjoying the feeling of her friend’s palm on her cunt,
“I’ve always wanted to have some fun with your flexible little body ever since I saw you do that backbend leg over the head combo.”
“Like how?”
“Oh, maybe something like this.”
Bianca grabs Jenna’s right leg and lifts it to meet her head, making her do a perfect lying split. She then straddles her, connecting both of their pussies with each other and slowly rolling her hips. Both girls moan from the action, staring deep into each other’s eyes as Bianca continues rubbing against Jenna’s pussy.
“Fuck, you’re such a sexy girl,” Bianca moans as her hips start rolling faster, “You look so fucking sexy like this.”
Jenna blushes at the comment, getting even more turned on from it as she continues moaning. Bianca giggles at her bashful demeanor, continuing with,
“Don’t be shy about it, sweetie. As cute as it is, I want you to know how sexy you are. Your beautiful eyes just begging for more, your cute little face expressing how good this feels, and especially your adorable moans from all of this.”
Bianca starts grinding a little harder against Jenna, making her moan even more.
“Yeah, that’s it, kitten. Moan for me. Let me hear how good I’m making you feel. Yeah. Tell me how good I’m making your little pussy feel. Oh, fuck, baby. Yes. That’s right. Just like that. Moan for me. Moan louder for me, baby. Yeah.”
Jenna does as she’s told, moaning louder and louder with Bianca following suit as her pace grows more and more. Not long after speeding up the pace, Jenna gets the overwhelming sensation again. And Bianca’s not too far away from it, herself. Without thinking, she leans down and embraces Jenna in a passionate kiss as both of their orgasms build more and more. Eventually, both release onto each other, moaning into the kiss as they soak the table with their fluids.
Bianca pulls away from the kiss and slows down her movements, allowing both of them to catch their breath. She then looks down at the exhausted girl, caressing her face and giggling before saying,
“Such a good girl. You did amazing, baby. I’m so proud of you.”
Jenna blushes again, secretly loving the comments she’s receiving.
“But you know, I’m kinda wondering what we both taste like together. Aren’t you?”
Jenna slowly nods her head. She can’t deny that she’s at least a little curious about what she tastes like. So Bianca leans back up and pulls Jenna up with her. She then backs away, spreading her legs to invite the brunette to have a taste of their combined fluids. Jenna hesitantly accepts her invitation, leaning down and placing her head in between the ebony girl’s legs. Bianca then brings a hand to the back of her head, guiding her face toward her awaiting pussy. Jenna then sticks out her tongue and drags it along Bianca’s soaked cunt, tasting both of their orgasms. In short, it’s one of the best things she’s ever tasted in her life.
She latches onto Bianca’s pussy, eagerly lapping up her mess as Bianca moans in response to her licks. She strokes her hair, taking in the sight of her friend eating her out. But she’s not content with her having the tasty treat all to herself. She’s entitled to some, too. So while Jenna’s hungrily licking Bianca’s pussy, Bianca leans forward and grabs onto her hips before lifting her bottom half over her top half and presenting her glistening cunt.
Bianca wastes no time. She wraps her mouth around Jenna’s pussy, immediately enticed with their combined flavors. Both girls are now needily savoring each other’s tastes, moaning from the sensations coming along with their indulgence in the tasting. They just can’t get enough of it. And the feeling of their mouths on each other’s pussies is unmatched. They both need more.
Jenna wraps her legs around Bianca’s head, pushing her further into her pussy, and Bianca wraps her arms around Jenna’s torso, doing the same. Bianca slides her tongue inside of Jenna’s pussy, making her moan louder and Jenna does the same. Jenna rolls her hips, grinding her pussy against Bianca’s face for more friction. Bianca brings a hand to the back of Jenna’s head to get the same effect.
Not long after the additional pleasures implemented by both girls are set in motion, the awe inspiring sensation makes its appearance once again, making both of them moan more and more. After moments of the sensations building, both girls release one final time in each other’s mouths, basking in both the second dosage of their fluids and the satisfying feeling of their orgasms.
Once they ride out their orgasms, Jenna plants her hands on the table, lifting her top half up with the help of Bianca. She then leans up in a sitting position on Bianca’s shoulders before descending and straddling her. They engage in another kiss with Bianca stroking Jenna’s hair and Jenna holding Bianca’s face in her hands.
This moment feels so serene to the pair. It’s almost as if after that entire segment, they’ve become one cohesive unit. It’s more than euphoria. It’s more than the joys of sex between them. It’s almost as if they-...
Milo snaps his eyes open, deeply inhaling as he catches his breath, coughing in the process. Once he’s composed, he takes a second to observe his surroundings. He’s in Rayleigh’s car.
‘Did I fall asleep? What the hell just happened?’ he internally questions.
Just as he has that thought, the memories of what had just occurred flood his mind. The sleepover, the damage, the-...He recoils at the thought of it all. He’d just had sex with the two most despicable people he’s ever known.
“So how do ya feel?” he hears Rayleigh’s voice say beside him, shocking him to his core, “You still gonna be a negative Nancy?”
“Ok, don’t you dare think I’m gonna go through that and not expect a fucking explanation from you!” Milo interjects,
“Alright, alright, jeez. Basically, I had us infiltrate their bodies for a bit to give them a taste of their own medicine. And the only way to get back was either when I said so or when their parents got back. And...well...I didn’t say so.”
“And you couldn’t have told me any of that because-?”
“Because it was fucking hilarious listening and watching you run around that damn room like a chicken with its head cut off while trying to figure out what was going on.”
“Well, fuck you, too.”
“You already did, gaylord.”
“First, we were in female bodies, so that’s incorrect, stupid. Second, even if it worked like that, you initiated, so you’d be the gaylord.”
“Spoken like a true gaylord.”
“Ugh. Whatever. You’re lucky that was actually kinda fun.”
“So no more lying around like a sad sack?”
“We still got that footage?”
Rayleigh pulls out his phone, saying in a smug tone,
“Oh, this isn’t going anywhere.”
“Nice. And everything’s transferred over?”
“Yup. The power of modern day technology and other science mixed in.”
“I still can’t believe that. That’s insane. Wait! Hang on a second. I just remembered something.”
“What?”
“You said that we’re only here because her parents came home early, right? Doesn’t that mean they’re getting chewed out right now because of what we did?”
“Oh yeah. You’re right.”
“You thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Typing it in now.”
I saw this as a commission and took it a while ago and kinda took too long with it, so if the OP is still here............sowwy. Hope you enjoy anyways.
Milo couldn’t be happier with his life right now. He’s at the tail end of the worst part of his life, his freelancing career is starting to get off the ground, and he’s now in a relationship with the greatest girl he’s ever come into contact with. He never thought he’d be this happy in his senior year.
“Shut up,” Rosaline says with a giggle, lightly shoving Milo, “I like kittens. Leave me alone.”
“I’m just saying they’re little prissy brats,” Milo retorts with a shrug, “Yeah, they’re cute, but they just go around ordering you around like they own everything. They’re like the late stages for a spoiled rich kid.”
“Well, I don’t care what you say. I’m getting one.”
“And I’m not gonna stop you. I’ll just place it somewhere really high if it annoys me.”
“Then it’ll climb back down and scratch you.”
“Then I’ll eat its food.”
“Then it’ll bite you.”
“Then I’ll bite it back to assert dominance.”
Rosaline giggles again at Milo before saying,
“Oh my gosh, you’re such a jerk.”
“What, you never complained when I ate your kitten before. What’s different now?”
“Milo, stooop.”
As the pair enjoy each other’s company, Milo’s friend, Rayleigh approaches them, taking note of their merriment.
“What’s up, lovebirds?” he starts, “What’s going on here?”
“Nothing much,” Milo answers, “Just discussing how she wants her kitty in my mouth and how it’ll result in me getting scratched.”
Rosaline gasps and blushes at Milo’s phrasing before pounding his shoulder, prompting him to laugh at her embarrassment.
“Classy, you two, real classy,” Rayleigh says with a smirk, “Well, the reason I came over here was to inform you that Alex is inviting everyone to his house for a bit of an end of the year get together. So you guys wanna ride with me or do you wanna continue your kitten conversation at your place first?”
Rosaline pouts at his statement before folding her arms. Milo embraces her in his arm before answering with,
“Yeah, we’ll go. Didn’t think that Alex was the party type.”
“Senior year just brings out the inner party animal, I guess.”
“That honestly doesn’t surprise me. Especially since he’s been stressing like crazy since the year started.”
“Yeah, this might be more therapeutic for him than anything. Alright, I’ll tell him he’s got two others on the guest list.”
Rayleigh walks away, leaving the pair alone again.
“You’re so embarrassiiiing,” Rosaline whines through a playful pout,
“Yeah, you’re right, I’m the worst,” Milo plays along, “Tell you what, I’ll embarrass myself by fucking up a backflip when we get to the party. Will that make it better?”
“Noo. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“It won’t be permanent. I’ll just knock the wind out of myself.”
“No. You’re not gonna inflict harm upon yourself in any way.”
“Ok, you win, mom. I won’t intentionally hurt myself. But what if I-”
“Oh, hey there, Milo!” a familiar voice says, gathering the pair’s attention,
“How are you doing?” another familiar voice follows.
Milo groans in agitation before palming his face, immediately recognizing the two voices. These two girls have made his and Rayleigh’s entire high school experience a living hell. The fact that they only have to deal with one more month of it couldn’t make them happier. Not only are they gonna be done with school forever, but there’s a fairly favorable chance that they’ll never have to see either of these girls for the rest of their natural lives.
“What do you want?” Milo questions, not even looking at the pair above him,
“Is that any way to greet your best friends?” Bianca teases,
“Yeah, why do you have to be so mean to us?” Jenna chimes in, ruffling his hair.
Not wanting to be framed for inflicting harm on the girls again, Milo just endures the verbal and physical torment.
“Ooo, Milo,” Jenna taunts, turning her attention to Rosaline, “Why didn’t you tell us you got yourself another girlfriend?”
“W-wait, ‘another’?” Rosaline questions, confused at the insinuation, “What is she talking about?”
“Oh, he didn’t tell you about us? Milo, you big meanie. You can’t keep these things from her. You’re in a relationship. You gotta tell her these things.”
Irritated with the lies she’s spewing, Milo snaps back with,
“What? What are you talking about? There was never an ‘us’.”
Jenna brings her hand to her chest before letting out an exaggerated gasp and saying,
“Oh my. So cruel.”
“Yeah, Milo,” Bianca piles on, “Not cool, dude. How could you forget all the good times we all had?”
“You...all?” Rosaline questions with disgust,
“Rose, I swear, they’re lying,” Milo assures, “They’re just a couple of assholes. Let’s just go.”
He stands up, bringing a reluctant Rosaline up with him, but before they can walk away, Bianca stops them in their tracks, saying,
“Wow, quite the language you have there, Milo.”
“Come on, you know good and well that boy has quite the mouth on him,” Jenna says, “Let me tell you something, you’re a very lucky lady. Has he shown you how educated his tongue is yet? He just reaches all the right places, doesn’t he?”
“Well, he’s kind of a cheater. He’s basically obsessed with having you sit on his face. But he more than makes up for it with how much he’ll touch you, know what I mean?”
Rosaline’s face gets redder and redder with every word. Partly because of the perverse speaking from the pair, but mostly because their descriptions of Milo’s actions are 100% accurate in her experience. Their claims are getting more believable the longer she listens.
“Oh, if you think that’s cheating, just wait until you see how he found out how to do those things,” Jenna says, “One look at that internet history would have a nymphomaniac blushing.”
Milo’s immediately shaken to his core as soon as the mention of his search history is mentioned. Taking note of his sudden apprehensive demeanor, Rosaline looks at him with even more disdain than before.
“Not only that, but let’s just say he might have the law giving him the side eye,” Bianca chimes in, further strengthening Rosaline’s suspicions,
“What-...what do they mean by that, Milo?” Rosaline questions, fearing the answer,
“Rosaline, just listen,” Milo starts, trying his hardest to dissolve her suspicions of him.
He takes her hands into his, but she immediately snatches them away, staring directly into his eyes and holding back tears in hers.
“What do they mean by that?” she repeats, demanding to know the answer,
“Well, if you’re that curious, let’s just find out together,” Jenna says, swiping away on Milo’s phone.
Milo, petrified beyond belief, tries desperately to retrieve his phone. But Bianca stops him in his tracks, holding him in place and giggling.
“Seriously, putting your phone in shorts that baggy is just begging people to snatch it,” she says as Milo tries fighting out of her grasp,
“Ok! Let’s see what we have here on Milo Turner’s search history on his phone!” Jenna announces, gathering the attention of everyone in the gym,
“Jenna! No! Stop! Ple-” Milo pleads before Bianca covers his mouth with her hand,
“Alright, let’s see, here! Ahem! Just last night we have: ‘POV Step daughter sucks step dad’s cock while mom sleeps’! ‘Mommy domme pegs her baby boy’! ‘Kitsune femdom erotic audio’! ‘Granny stuck in a wall and begs for anal pounding’! ‘Dragon Maid Kanna Yuri Smutfic’! ‘...Wait a minute...What’s this?!”
Milo, instantly realizing what Jenna has found, tries even harder to break out of Bianca’s hold. But she has him locked in too tight. His fighting proves to be for naught. He’s already overflowing with embarrassment, but if Jenna follows through with exposing what she’s found, he’ll never hear the end of it. So he continues desperately fighting Bianca until,
“Big brother you’re the best
Especially when you touch my breast
I like the way that you touch me
Your chin-chin makes me kimochi
Just put your dick in my mouth
I’ll make it go in and out-”
The entire gym erupts in a mix of laughter, repulsion, second-hand embarrassment, and a combination of all three. Milo can’t even bring himself to look at Rosaline, who is recoiling at him with a look of shock, horror, confusion...and hatred. She doesn’t recognize him anymore. She can’t believe what he’s been hiding from her. And she fears that’s not even a fraction of what he’s been hiding.
Rayleigh snatches Milo’s phone out of Jenna’s hand before frantically closing out of the tab. But the damage is already done. Everyone’s either laughing at Milo or giving him a look of utter contemptment, Jenna and Bianca are joining the former, laughing up a fit, and all Milo can do is sit back down against the closed bleachers and cover his face in shame. Rayleigh then notices that Rosaline is nowhere to be found. He scans the gym for her, catching her angrily storming through the gym door. He then spots Milo’s lime hoodie that he let her wear haphazardly tossed in the trash bin.
From the noises of his peers, to the tragic end of his best friend’s relationship, to the heinous act that the two girls before him committed, Rayleigh is seething with rage. They’ve done some terrible things to them in the past, but this was diabolical. He can’t believe that they would stoop this low. They completely demolished the image of one of the most respected guys in the school. And they’re laughing about it. It’s so infuriating to him. They get to do anything they want with no consequences. No one to teach them what happens when you constantly meaninglessly antagonize. Well, he’s had enough. He refuses to have that be the case anymore. Somehow, someway, Rayleigh will embed that message into their skulls.
A few weeks pass after the incident and Milo continues to remain in his room. He doesn’t bother mending anything with Rosaline, finding it to be a lost cause, he doesn’t interact with his parents, he doesn’t answer Rayleigh’s attempts to reach out to him, he doesn’t even plan on attending school for the last month. He’s too ashamed to bear the thought of showing his face in public with everyone knowing what they know. Thankfully, his grades allow him to afford to do that.
As Milo continues lying in his bed and thinking about his ruined status in the eyes of his former peers, he hears a knock on his door. Believing it to be his mother, he ignores it in hopes that she’ll leave him alone. As expected there’s another knock and it’s met with the same treatment. He’ll set her mind at ease when he eats his breakfast later. He just doesn’t want to see her or anyone.
But things take an unexpected turn as another knock is heard. This time being slightly louder than the previous knocks. However, it still doesn’t prompt a reaction from Milo. He just continues to lay in his bed in hopes that the unwanted visitor will get his message. That is until he finally hears Rayleigh’s voice say,
“Ok, screw this. Open the door, dumbass!”
Milo is taken aback by the subversion, but that still doesn’t motivate him to get out of bed. He still doesn’t want any company. Rayleigh ignores Milo’s nonverbal objection and opens the door himself and steps into his room.
“Sup, dude,” he greets, “Haven’t seen you in a bit. You doin’ alright?”
Milo doesn’t answer. He doesn’t even look at his intruder.
“Yeah, I figured. Don’t worry, I’m not gonna stand here and give you some long-winded boring speech about how you shouldn’t waste your time wallowing away in the confinements of your room and how you need to pull yourself up by your bootstraps and fuck the horse and whatever. Not gonna do any of that. That’s just gonna be a huge waste of time. Instead of telling you to get out of this room, I’m dragging you. Come on.”
He grabs onto Milo’s arm and pulls him out of bed. Milo doesn’t really put up a fight. For one, Rayleigh would just relent until he conceded. Plus, he doesn’t have the energy to persist. It’s just easier to follow along until Rayleigh’s done. The lack of a struggle takes Rayleigh by surprise, but it doesn’t slow him down. He drags his friend downstairs and outside into the passenger seat of his car before stepping into the driver’s seat.
“Ok,” he starts, “We’re gonna go somewhere.”
“Yeah, we’re in a car,” Milo grumbles, wanting this to be over and done with already,
“How right you are. Now, where do you wanna go?”
“Back to my room.”
“Alright, bowling alley it is.”
Milo sighs as Rayleigh grabs his laptop from the dashboard and places it on his lap. Rayleigh then starts typing on the laptop, prompting Milo to look on in confusion. What was the point of asking him if he was just going to type away on his computer? He rolls his eyes before leaning his head on his hand and looking out the window.
But just one glance shakes Milo to his core. Beside him is someone’s car that he doesn’t recognize. He looks forward through the windshield discovering the aforementioned bowling alley. As he takes a moment to process what exactly just happened, Rayleigh just gives him a smug grin.
“Yeah, still wanna be in your room now, Debbie downer?” he questions.
“Wh-.....WHAT?!” Milo shouts, not able to form any other words in his mind,
“Cool, isn’t it? I don’t know what happened, either. I just accidentally spilled some soda on it a few nights ago and it kinda sparked out. A full day in cinnamon and sage coated rice later and I’m in the possession of a keyboard that grants anything I type.”
“Creepy. Wait, cinnamon and sage?”
“Michelle was trying something and mom and dad wanted to be supportive.”
“You know, you say things like this and wonder why I wonder what the hell goes on in your house.”
“ANYWAY, you do know what this means, right?”
“Yeah. We can pretty much do whatever we want.”
“That’s one way of looking at it.”
Milo’s mind immediately starts racing at the infinite possibilities. He’s still trying to fully digest this. Anything that’s typed on that laptop becomes reality. They can travel back in time. They can raise the dead. They can achieve world peace. They can summon super models. They can change the laws. They can reshape the entirety of what they’ve come to know. And no one can stop them.
But Milo’s brainstorming is brought to an abrupt end as he hears Rayleigh typing on his laptop. With curiosity piquing, he asks,
“What are you doing?”
“Just a bit of debt collecting.”
“What do you mean by that?”
Right as he finishes his sentence, Rayleigh along with the rest of the scenery starts to fade. Confusion overtakes his mind as he peculiarly finds himself in a standing position with an unsettling unstable platform below his feet. As reality warps before him, Milo starts getting dizzy. He closes his eyes to avert the shifting setting.
After moments of patiently waiting, he starts to focus on what he can to get a feel of where Rayleigh could possibly have sent them. He takes a step forward, feeling the unstable platform shifting with the weight applied from his step along with a subtle squeak following behind. He immediately recognizes the platform to be a bed. He’s in someone’s bedroom. But as he’s coming to terms with his current environment, he hears something that freezes him in place,
‘Woah, this bottle is stronger than I thought it’d be. I’m already getting light headed.’
There’s no mistaking that voice. That’s Jenna’s. Milo snaps his eyes open, dreading the sight of the soulless blue eyes of the sadistic brunette. However, to his surprise, she’s nowhere to be found. He scans the bedroom for the girl, but she’s not seen anywhere. But during his search, he feels a slightly irritating sensation on his shoulders. He reaches for the source of the feelings, discovering it to be...his long...brown...hair.
‘The hell?’ he questions in his head,
‘Wait, who said that?’ Jenna’s voice questions,
‘Where the hell are you?!’ he exclaims, walking all over the room,
‘What the fuck is going on?! Why can’t I move where I want?!’
Milo relentlessly continues his pursuit, checking under the collection of plushies on the bed.
‘Wait, stop! I just organized those!’
Looking in the closet and carelessly tossing aside the shirts, skirts, dresses, and cheerleader uniforms.
‘Quit it! You’re going to rip them!’
Ripping down the signed boy band and inspiration posters to find a hole or something.
‘No! What is wrong with you?! I got that for my 6th birthday, you asshole!’
But coming up short at every turn. And the constant sounds of disapproval to his actions are driving him insane. Why can he hear her, but not see her? What did Rayleigh do to him?
In his pursuit, he passes by a mirror, catching a glimpse of himself. And with the brief sight of the reflection, he immediately recognizes that something isn’t right. He hesitantly steps in front of the mirror, taking a look at what is shown before him. His growing confusion and anger are immediately mixed with shock and horror.
His rugged hands have been replaced with the soft pale hands that have slapped his butt, earning a loud sound to be heard that caused him to catch the blame and be labeled a perv. His long hairy legs have been replaced with the short smooth legs that pinned down his arms while being force fed worms. His emerald green eyes have been replaced with the soulless blue eyes that gleefully watched his suffering over the years. His lightly bearded stoic face has been replaced with the clean silky face that smiles and laughs at his misfortunes. He is Jenna.
Milo stumbles back in disbelief. He’s in the body of the person he hates more than life itself. Why would Rayleigh do this to him? Where is he?
“Wow, you really don’t make it hard to find out where you are, huh?” he hears Bianca’s voice say behind him.
He turns around to the door and he spots the caramel toned girl standing in the doorframe accompanied with her signature curly brown hair, hazel eyes, and smug grin. He reflexively panics at first, but his mind starts piecing everything together. If he’s been put in Jenna’s body, it’s probably a safe bet that Rayleigh followed through with the obvious. And as if to make it even more obvious, upon further investigation, Milo spots his laptop in her arm.
“Wha-...what did you do?” Milo questions, covering his mouth as he hears Jenna’s voice instead of his own,
“I thought I made myself clear,” Rayleigh replies, “We’re gonna do some debt collecting. Remember? ‘We can do anything we want’. These skanks know damn well what that’s like. Year after year, they’re relentlessly on our necks with no one believing a word of it because ‘They’re such sweethearts. What could they possibly gain from doing anything malicious?’. Well, here they are: drinking alcohol, prank calling authoritarian figures, and committing other various acts that they have no business doing while we tried so desperately to stop them after we just so happened to pass by.”
Milo considers Rayleigh’s words, admitting to himself how fun it would be to give them a taste of their own medicine. But before his voice of reason can speak up, he hears Jenna saying in a dreadful tone,
‘Listen, I don’t know who or what you guys are or what you want, but just take it. Take whatever you want. Just please leave us alone. We don’t wanna cause any trouble. Please don’t hurt us.’
She wants mercy to be shown to her. And there’s no doubt in his mind that Bianca’s pleading for the same thing. They have the nerve to beg for mercy after everything they’ve done. Then his mind suddenly goes back to a few weeks ago. They ruined his image. They decimated most of his friendships. They demolished his relationship. The last thought cements his mind. He wants them to suffer.
“I’m in,” Milo says,
“That’s my boy,” Rayleigh replies.
The night ensues, seeing the pair of vengeful boys finally giving their oppressors their just desserts. Milo mixes a concoction of different drinks with Jenna expressing her disapproval throughout the entirety of her pleas. But her words fall on deaf ears as Milo gulps down every last drop of the drink.
“Woah, Jenna,” Rayleigh taunts, filming his friend’s actions, “Those drinks looked expensive. You sure your parents will be alright with only getting a quarter of those bottles?”
“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Milo replies with his most obnoxious fabricated valley girl impression, “Mommy and daddy will just get more.”
After a few more drink mixes, Milo takes Bianca’s phone, directing Rayleigh to the direction of Jenna’s parents’ room. They giddily giggle at the possibilities as they walk through the door. The very first thing that they spot is Jenna’s father’s nightstand, which contains a wedding photo, a necklace that reads “Love of my life”, a small teddy bear holding a heart containing a picture of Jenna’s mom, a stack of $100 bills, and the start of a bead portrait that looks like it took months to get a corner accomplished.
“Awww,” Rayleigh and Milo say in unison,
“How cute can a couple of people be?” Milo questions, getting closer to the nightstand,
‘No, no please!’ Jenna pleads, ‘Just stop! They’re gonna kill me if you do anything to this!’
“I know,” Rayleigh replies, picking up the teddy bear and gradually pulling at its head, “This is why marriage is so magical. Look at all of these one of a kind artifacts. And you wanna know the best thing about them? They’re just. So. Durable!”
The bear’s head rips off of its torso with Rayleigh’s last word. The pair giggle as Jenna cries in fear of what his dad will do to her after seeing this.
“Oops,” Rayleigh taunts, “Guess I was wrong. Looks like they won’t be needing this anymore.”
He rips the heart out of the bear’s sewed clutches before snapping it in half and tossing everything behind her.
“This might as well follow, right?” Milo says, picking up the wedding photo and throwing it at the wall, causing it to shatter,
“Oooo,” Rayleigh says patronizingly, “You broke iiit. You’re gonna get in trouble!”
He shoves Milo into the nightstand, causing it to knock over and send the beads scattering all over the floor.
“Well I won’t get into that much trouble,” Milo replies, “I just saved dad all that time and energy of finishing up that stupid fucking project.”
“Huh. I guess you’re right.”
They head out of the room with the girls dreading what they’re planning to do with them next. Rayleigh leads them to the dining room table, ensuring that he’s in frame of the video before sitting on the table and looking down at the table cloth.
“Hey, Jenna,” he starts, rubbing the cloth, “This table cloth looks really nice.”
‘Wait! No!’ Jenna begs, ‘Please! My aunt made that!’
“Like it?” Milo retorts, “Aunt Whatsherface just handed it to us. She’s such a fucking cheapskate. She couldn’t even be bothered to use Egyptian silk. Fucking bitch.”
“Yeah. Such a waste of quality if you ask me. But I know how to make it so much better.”
Rayleigh smirks directly into the camera as he crawls to the corner of the table. He then takes his preferred spot, leaning back on his left arm and bringing his right hand to the front of Bianca’s shorts. He rubs her clothed center as Milo continues filming, enjoying the show in front of him.
“It’s only right for such potential to have a more...modern woman’s touch, right?” he questions with a giggle as he pushes the shorts to the side, exposing Bianca’s wet pussy.
Milo gets closer as Rayleigh slowly starts moving Bianca’s hips back and forth, grinding her pussy against the table and soaking the cloth in her juices. He tilts his head back and moans as he starts rubbing Bianca’s moist folds to amplify the sensations. Milo gets a close up of Bianca’s swollen center, getting even more turned on the longer he observes her actions and listens to her sounds of enjoyment.
“That’s one way to improve something so heinous,” Milo teases, getting inches away from Bianca’s center, “You think my aunt would appreciate the honor of having such a pretty little pussy touching her disaster?”
“No doubt in my mind,” Rayleigh says in between moans, “Can’t wait until she sees this. Just the thought of her watching her niece’s friend getting off on her stupid cloth just makes me so fucking wet. Imagine the look on her face if she were here right now.”
“That would be so fucking hot. Maybe she’d wanna thank you in some way for improving her work.”
“Really? Like how?”
Without giving it much thought, Milo leans forward, sticks out Jenna’s tongue, and gives Bianca’s pussy a long sensual lick, prompting another blissful moan. He has no idea what prompted him to do it, but he’s not gonna complain about it. He thinks about repeating the action, but his better judgment emerges as he realizes what he just did. Not wanting to ruin the fun, he pushes his regretful feelings aside and continues filming.
“Ooo, you naughty girl,” Rayleigh says in a sultry tone, “You’re lucky your aunt’s not here now. You’d be punished for doing something so nasty.”
“Well, she’s not here, is she?” Milo responds, “So no punishment for me.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that. I have half a mind to bend you over and spank your misbehaving little butt.”
“Yet all you can do is talk about it, so I’m safe.”
Rayleigh slowly stops grinding before hopping down from the table. Milo tries to make a hasty retreat, but Rayleigh’s too fast. He grabs Jenna’s arm and pulls her back as the pair exchange laughter due to the roughhousing. Jenna’s then bent over the table, taking nearly the same exact position that Bianca was, but in reverse as Bianca’s hands explore her body. Milo moans in response to the softness of her hands as her hands reach Jenna’s awaiting butt.
“What, this is what constitutes spanking now?” Milo taunts, “I knew you wouldn’t do-”
He’s cut off as a loud slap is heard after Bianca’s hand swat’s Jenna’s ass. Milo whimpers in response to the sudden slap. But before he can collect his bearings, another strike is delivered, garnering the same reaction.
“What was that?” Rayleigh questions, “You were saying that I wouldn’t, right?”
Another slap ensues as Milo starts grinding Jenna’s pussy against the table, coating her shorts with Bianca’s fluids.
“Bad girls like you need to learn respect.”
Slap.
“You need to know who’s in charge.”
Slap.
“Someone really needs to put bad little girls like you in your place. You need to learn what happens when you step out of line.”
Slap.
With each strike that is delivered, a whimper is heard. And the more spanks that occur, the more those whimpers are heard as moans. Not only that, but the things being said and the way that they’re being said are making Milo feel things he never thought possible. Realizing the effects that the spankings are having, Milo snaps out of his pleasure fueled trance and leans up from the table.
“O-ok, Ray,” he says, stopping the recording, “Tha-that should be plenty to get them back now. There’s no way they’ll push us around anymore. Plus, I’ve read Jenna’s mind and her parents might be back soon.”
“Well, first of all, Bianca apparently made it so that they might not be back until Monday. So she is good for something. Who knew? And second of all, you still haven’t learned your lesson.”
“Oh...Well, uh-...I’m-...Tired! Yeah, just absolutely tired. Yawn, sleep, counting sheep, and what have you. Feminine charms like mine can’t just appear out of nowhere.”
Milo’s slightly taken aback by the last sentence he uttered. He didn’t even mean to say it. But he just brushes it aside, thinking of it as stress taking over for a moment. Meanwhile, Rayleigh looks at Milo, not buying his blatant lies.
“Wanna try something else or do you actually think I’m that stupid?”
“I-...I uh-...”
Milo can’t think of anything. He’s panicking too much. He stumbles on his words for a bit before he’s silenced by Bianca’s finger on his lips as he hears her voice shush him before saying,
“Relax. You know we’re not doing anything wrong. I know we’re not doing anything wrong. We’re just a couple of goofball girls having some fun, right? You like having fun, don’t you?”
The young brunette is conflicted. On one hand, this is going far beyond anything previously anticipated. There was no implication that the night would see both of them in this position. Not only that, but Milo always made it abundantly clear that roleplaying will never be something he indulges in. But on the other, hearing the soothing sexy tones of the ravishing ebony girl as her gorgeous hazel eyes are fixated on the ocean blue eyes of her prey tip the scales pretty significantly.
“N-no,” the confused brunette weakly protests, “B-Bianca, we can’t. We’re...we’re not-...ngh~”
The final protests of the brunette are immediately silenced as Bianca’s lips latch onto her neck, gently sucking on it. Jenna’s then lifted onto the table as she closes her eyes and tilts her head back from the newfound pleasure delivered from Bianca.
“That’s it,” Bianca whispers in between kisses, “Just let go of all that worry and overthinking. Be in the here and now. Don’t worry about what might happen. Feel my lips on your neck. My hands on your nice, soft, delicate body. Yeah, you like that, don’t you?”
Jenna can’t respond. She’s too infatuated with the various sensations coursing through her body. With each kiss, with every word, with every inch of her body that’s being touched by her pursuer, the more she obeys her commands. She’s slowly but surely giving into her desires.
Bianca then trails kisses from Jenna’s neck to her mouth, still exploring her body with her hands under her shirt. Jenna leans back on her hands, balancing herself as Bianca deepens the kiss. This causes Jenna to give in even more. She loves the feeling of Bianca’s lips on hers. She could stay like this forever.
After a few minutes into the kiss, Bianca briefly breaks it to pull Jenna’s shirt over her head. Afterwards, they resume the kiss with Bianca grabbing onto Jenna’s DD cup chest with her right hand and caressing the submissive brunette’s face with her right. Jenna moans into the kiss as Bianca squeezes it. She’s so firm, yet tender with her. She’s never felt anything like this before.
With every moment that passes of Bianca grabbing and kneading Jenna’s chest, the more Jenna longs to have her wrap her lips around her nipple. The thought alone drives Jenna wild. The more she thinks about it, the more she needs it. And as if reading her mind, Bianca pulls away from the needy brunette, trailing kisses down her neck and to her well developed chest. She looks up at Jenna, giving her a coy grin before latching her mouth onto her right breast. Jenna lightly moans as Bianca licks and sucks on her right breast, while squeezing and kneading the other.
The look on Bianca’s face along with the various sensations caused by her worshiping her chest earn more reactions from Jenna. She moans louder, gripping onto the table cloth as Bianca continues enjoying her body. Bianca then alternates, latching her mouth onto her left breast and squeezing the other.
Jenna’s in pure bliss. By this point, her fears and anticipation are nonexistent. She just wants this to go on forever. She’s feeling pleasures that were previously never thought possible. All at the hands of her best friend.
After moments of the intense pleasure, Jenna’s starting to feel an overwhelming sensation rushing throughout her body. Her moans get louder and louder as this extreme sensation builds and builds. Eventually, it proves to be too much for her and she arches her back, lightly spasming as she reaches her orgasm.
Jenna lies back on the table, riding out her orgasm as Bianca looks down at her, giggling at what she’s caused. She brings a hand to Jenna’s bare tummy, lightly rubbing it and saying,
“Good girl. See what happens when you fully give yourself to me? You feel wonderous sensations that you never would have otherwise. Now, do you want more?”
“Y-yes, please,” Jenna replies almost immediately, drunk with pleasure,
“That’s what I thought.”
Bianca guides her hand from Jenna’s tummy to her abdomen, latching her fingers onto the waistband of her shorts before pulling them down below her legs and fully exposing her entire body. Bianca then fully guides Jenna onto the table before taking off her own shirt and shorts and joining her on top of it. Before doing anything else, she observes the girl’s full frame. She watches from her chest as it rises and falls from her catching her breath to her soaking, wet, little pussy. She’s practically salivating at the sight of her. She can’t wait to ravage her. But before she does, an idea crosses her mind.
“You wanna know something?” Bianca starts, bringing a hand to Jenna’s drenched slit and lightly rubbing it,
“W-what?” Jenna answers, enjoying the feeling of her friend’s palm on her cunt,
“I’ve always wanted to have some fun with your flexible little body ever since I saw you do that backbend leg over the head combo.”
“Like how?”
“Oh, maybe something like this.”
Bianca grabs Jenna’s right leg and lifts it to meet her head, making her do a perfect lying split. She then straddles her, connecting both of their pussies with each other and slowly rolling her hips. Both girls moan from the action, staring deep into each other’s eyes as Bianca continues rubbing against Jenna’s pussy.
“Fuck, you’re such a sexy girl,” Bianca moans as her hips start rolling faster, “You look so fucking sexy like this.”
Jenna blushes at the comment, getting even more turned on from it as she continues moaning. Bianca giggles at her bashful demeanor, continuing with,
“Don’t be shy about it, sweetie. As cute as it is, I want you to know how sexy you are. Your beautiful eyes just begging for more, your cute little face expressing how good this feels, and especially your adorable moans from all of this.”
Bianca starts grinding a little harder against Jenna, making her moan even more.
“Yeah, that’s it, kitten. Moan for me. Let me hear how good I’m making you feel. Yeah. Tell me how good I’m making your little pussy feel. Oh, fuck, baby. Yes. That’s right. Just like that. Moan for me. Moan louder for me, baby. Yeah.”
Jenna does as she’s told, moaning louder and louder with Bianca following suit as her pace grows more and more. Not long after speeding up the pace, Jenna gets the overwhelming sensation again. And Bianca’s not too far away from it, herself. Without thinking, she leans down and embraces Jenna in a passionate kiss as both of their orgasms build more and more. Eventually, both release onto each other, moaning into the kiss as they soak the table with their fluids.
Bianca pulls away from the kiss and slows down her movements, allowing both of them to catch their breath. She then looks down at the exhausted girl, caressing her face and giggling before saying,
“Such a good girl. You did amazing, baby. I’m so proud of you.”
Jenna blushes again, secretly loving the comments she’s receiving.
“But you know, I’m kinda wondering what we both taste like together. Aren’t you?”
Jenna slowly nods her head. She can’t deny that she’s at least a little curious about what she tastes like. So Bianca leans back up and pulls Jenna up with her. She then backs away, spreading her legs to invite the brunette to have a taste of their combined fluids. Jenna hesitantly accepts her invitation, leaning down and placing her head in between the ebony girl’s legs. Bianca then brings a hand to the back of her head, guiding her face toward her awaiting pussy. Jenna then sticks out her tongue and drags it along Bianca’s soaked cunt, tasting both of their orgasms. In short, it’s one of the best things she’s ever tasted in her life.
She latches onto Bianca’s pussy, eagerly lapping up her mess as Bianca moans in response to her licks. She strokes her hair, taking in the sight of her friend eating her out. But she’s not content with her having the tasty treat all to herself. She’s entitled to some, too. So while Jenna’s hungrily licking Bianca’s pussy, Bianca leans forward and grabs onto her hips before lifting her bottom half over her top half and presenting her glistening cunt.
Bianca wastes no time. She wraps her mouth around Jenna’s pussy, immediately enticed with their combined flavors. Both girls are now needily savoring each other’s tastes, moaning from the sensations coming along with their indulgence in the tasting. They just can’t get enough of it. And the feeling of their mouths on each other’s pussies is unmatched. They both need more.
Jenna wraps her legs around Bianca’s head, pushing her further into her pussy, and Bianca wraps her arms around Jenna’s torso, doing the same. Bianca slides her tongue inside of Jenna’s pussy, making her moan louder and Jenna does the same. Jenna rolls her hips, grinding her pussy against Bianca’s face for more friction. Bianca brings a hand to the back of Jenna’s head to get the same effect.
Not long after the additional pleasures implemented by both girls are set in motion, the awe inspiring sensation makes its appearance once again, making both of them moan more and more. After moments of the sensations building, both girls release one final time in each other’s mouths, basking in both the second dosage of their fluids and the satisfying feeling of their orgasms.
Once they ride out their orgasms, Jenna plants her hands on the table, lifting her top half up with the help of Bianca. She then leans up in a sitting position on Bianca’s shoulders before descending and straddling her. They engage in another kiss with Bianca stroking Jenna’s hair and Jenna holding Bianca’s face in her hands.
This moment feels so serene to the pair. It’s almost as if after that entire segment, they’ve become one cohesive unit. It’s more than euphoria. It’s more than the joys of sex between them. It’s almost as if they-...
Milo snaps his eyes open, deeply inhaling as he catches his breath, coughing in the process. Once he’s composed, he takes a second to observe his surroundings. He’s in Rayleigh’s car.
‘Did I fall asleep? What the hell just happened?’ he internally questions.
Just as he has that thought, the memories of what had just occurred flood his mind. The sleepover, the damage, the-...He recoils at the thought of it all. He’d just had sex with the two most despicable people he’s ever known.
“So how do ya feel?” he hears Rayleigh’s voice say beside him, shocking him to his core, “You still gonna be a negative Nancy?”
“Ok, don’t you dare think I’m gonna go through that and not expect a fucking explanation from you!” Milo interjects,
“Alright, alright, jeez. Basically, I had us infiltrate their bodies for a bit to give them a taste of their own medicine. And the only way to get back was either when I said so or when their parents got back. And...well...I didn’t say so.”
“And you couldn’t have told me any of that because-?”
“Because it was fucking hilarious listening and watching you run around that damn room like a chicken with its head cut off while trying to figure out what was going on.”
“Well, fuck you, too.”
“You already did, gaylord.”
“First, we were in female bodies, so that’s incorrect, stupid. Second, even if it worked like that, you initiated, so you’d be the gaylord.”
“Spoken like a true gaylord.”
“Ugh. Whatever. You’re lucky that was actually kinda fun.”
“So no more lying around like a sad sack?”
“We still got that footage?”
Rayleigh pulls out his phone, saying in a smug tone,
“Oh, this isn’t going anywhere.”
“Nice. And everything’s transferred over?”
“Yup. The power of modern day technology and other science mixed in.”
“I still can’t believe that. That’s insane. Wait! Hang on a second. I just remembered something.”
“What?”
“You said that we’re only here because her parents came home early, right? Doesn’t that mean they’re getting chewed out right now because of what we did?”
“Oh yeah. You’re right.”
“You thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Typing it in now.”
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Commissioned for Anonymous on Twitter, their OC Freja gaining a magical staff and dealing with the side effects.
The pursuit of magic was an endless one, for various reasons and goals. Some wanted power, to conquer and destroy. Others wanted to mend the world, bringing peace and joy. Some wanted prestige, fame and fortune abound. So naturally there was a cavalcade of motivations for people, some good and some ill.
And more than you’d expect were just plain selfish. Even if it was for a dare or to satisfy one's ego thousands would pursue it. Some ancient magi prepared for this and set up punishments for those who would rob graves or delve into tombs in a quest for power.
One such person was a powerful sorceress, Prinzessin Freja Von Rosenburg. A young woman gifted in the magical arts who naturally wanted to have the best of the best in terms of magical equipment and prestige. Naturally, however, this had led to a bit of an ego problem with the woman.
Born to a prince elect, having access to anything she could want and being talented in magic. It was a damning combination. Especially when she realized what she could force her way through due to her large personality and similarly large assets. Meaning it was a simple task to get adventurers hired to get what she wanted if it’d turn out to be a challenge.
And she did, a group of her servants and adventurers looking to move up socially were easy to buy. Especially for a dangerous place full of dust and dirt. Monsters were no issue, after all she was the most powerful person (in her own mind) in the world.
So, the traps had been sprung, the monsters had been blasted and she hadn’t even had to risk chipping a nail. Her entourage was exhausted, but the relic she wanted was right in front of her.
“Well, thanks to MY hard work,” She boasted, knowing the grumbles from her group were just proving how hard she worked. “We have our treasure!” and said treasure was now being held right against her body. The pink staff of some powerful mage she didn’t care to remember the name of.
“Ugh, how tacky.” she mumbled as she motioned for her entourage to start carrying her out. “Really? A heart? I heard this old fogy was cringe, but I didn’t think it’d be that bad.” She ignored the grumblings of her allies, since after all they should just be happy, she is letting them use this as experience and exposure. “Come on, move faster! Everything's dealt with and I am not chipping a nail!”
There was almost no resistance from any of the other adventurers, they all knew they would get paid one way or another. Even If the bratty woman who hired them didn’t want too. But nonetheless, it was a pain to carry someone out of a dungeon, almost worse than carrying them in.
The trip back was thankfully uneventful, other than more grumbling from the people who did most of the work.
“And now, adieu!” Freja laughed, leaving the adventurers on the doorstep as she took the artifact with her. The tired grumbles now leaving her mind as she admired her treasure in actual lighting. It certainly had an aura of powerful magic, maybe if she had bothered to pay attention to stories about the sorcerer who used it, she would know more. But that stuff was just boring to her, why should she care about the past?
But now, as she entered her lavish bed spread and looked at herself in the mirror. She saw the most horrible thing that could have happened to a brave and more importantly beautiful magic user.
Her dress had the slightest, most miniscule smudge on it. It could’ve been from anything, dust, her entourage, even the staff itself could’ve had some dirt fall on her.
“Augh, of course! Of course, someone got me dirty!” she wailed, no one really paying her mind as it was a normal occurrence for her to be overdramatic. “Utterly disgusting and useless, all of them! Now I need a new outfit!”
Her doors slammed shut, her closet slammed open, and her clothing was flung with reckless abandon over her bed and her treasure. Thus, distracting her from doing literally any research or investigating what she had acquired. Just leaving it alone as something in its ancient magic started to stir.
The staff glowed, obscured from all prying eyes. Despite her intellect and magical prowess, Freja’s ego eclipsed that. All she knew was the staff’s beneficial powers, so she was completely unprepared for the ramifications of it. No detect curses, no warding’s, just pure unfiltered ego to protect her from anything.
But, for now, she wouldn’t notice. She was too busy fixing her new outfit. A black silk dress with gold trim and inlaid fabric. Tights that showed off her curves and a few adjustments to the top allowed it to show off her body in a way that screamed ‘I own you’ to passersby who didn’t know better. Elegant, eye catching and entrancing. All to be mocked and denied when someone approached her.
The princess flipped her hair, letting the red locks cascade down to her shoulders, free of all bindings she needed for travel. After all, she couldn’t risk her hair getting things like dirt and debris in it. Then were her gloves, full length and connected to her dress as she adjusted things with each hand.
A simple, elegant dress for whatever the mage wanted. Tea, dinner, anyone she could command? Frankly if she didn’t feel this was her norm, one could assume she thought the entire world belonged to her.
Some makeup, jewelry, and she was ready for the evening, and naturally she needed to take her new staff. While pink was not her ideal color, the contrast would be eye catching and entrancing. The benefits of the staff being just the slightest bit taller than her. And that was the first chance it had to work on its new master.
She didn’t notice anything, not at first, as she carefully looked at her staff and grimaced.
“it’s so tacky... but it should make me totally unstoppable if I want it too.” she grumbled, pleasantly surprised that it was very light despite its length. “Well, it’s famous, so it’ll just make me look better!”
There was a tug at the back of her mind, that maybe she should investigate her new equipment more. Ensure she didn’t forget something important about it. But of course, she didn’t feel the need too, after all she was a fantastic magic user in her own right.
So now she went out, purely on the town to show off. Herself, the staff, her own prowess of how she definitely earned this artifact with her own skill and not from forcing others to do the work for her.
Her door swung open as she walked out, the clack of her heels echoing through the building as she strode towards the entrance. Servants took quick glimpses at her, after all, she wanted all eyes on her and her new toy.
At least, she wanted them on her for her looks and her status, not for why she found herself with a maid on the floor in front of her. Or a sudden pain in her chest.
To onlookers, she had just confidently plowed into one of the maids due to her ego. So, they all knew to expect the princess to explode and drag the maid verbally across the entire castle. They waited, with bated breath, knowing just how ruthless she would be.
And nothing, not a single spoiled scream came from the noble. A few people looked up, and with an uncharacteristic gentleness, Freja was extending her hand.
“Well? Get up!” she said, not sure why she was doing this. But something was making this small act of kindness feel phenomenal. “Just be more careful next time.” The maid was stunned and slowly stood up, mumbled some sort of apology that Freja didn’t care enough to hear as she walked off.
“Wait... she got dirt on me, didn’t she?” the mage said, looking down at her dress. Thankfully there wasn’t a smudge on her. Nothing was out of place or dirtied by the collision. Not even the fit of her dress needed adjustment. “Well... good!”
Again, something was nagging at her in the back of her mind. She did yell at the maid who so rudely walked in her vicinity. She should be livid, furious, dragged her for her insolence of thinking she could even exist in her presence. But there was no anger, not even a hint of irritation at the lower-class servant being near her.
“Hmph!” Freja said with a smirk to no one in particular. “Clearly my adventures have just made me tolerate the low class’s mistakes!” She continued to stride off, not quite sure what the feeling in the back of her mind was, knowing it couldn’t be anything that would affect her on a significant level. Or more accurately, her ego was telling her that.
However, as she walked, the incidents continued. From someone wanting to compliment her dress, to smaller collisions that should’ve by all rights let her fly off the handle. But she didn’t, in fact, she felt better every time she didn’t explode at someone.
Clearly the adventure had tired her out. She couldn’t possibly be turning... nice, could she?
“Nice? To those cretins?” She mumbled as she shook her head, catching her hair frizzing out now that she could tell something was wrong. “Never. Not in a million years!” She was above them all of course, she was smarter, more powerful than most of the rabble in this region. Her parents were both skilled mages and her father was a prince elect. She was factually above everyone in her mind.
Her staff was just the icing on the cake. The symbol that proved she was in fact a skilled mage, even if she couldn’t care less about the history behind it. All she needed to know about it was that it was hers now, and it would increase her power.
Though, the longer she was holding it, having it near her, it was correlating with the sudden change in demeanor. She stopped and dipped into a side street free of anyone who could see her. Freja needed to get control of whatever was going on.
“...Wait... what do I do here?” she mumbled, trying to rack her brain for what could even be going on. There was a level of fogginess to her brain that wasn’t there before. “Maybe I'm tired...” she sighed, not wanting to risk running into anyone else now. “Being nice to these... people, shouldn’t feel good.”
The words left her mouth as the feeling of something strange tickled the back of her mind. She needed to think but was finding it significantly harder at the moment. The staff moved from hand to hand as she tried to think of what could be going on.
But it was getting so hard to think, her mind was unfocused, and she was finding herself dealing with some... feelings. In her body. Specifically, her lower body. Every little thing, little nice thing she found herself doing made that fogginess and feeling grow.
What’s worse is she didn’t think she hated it. But for now, she needed to try and get control of the situation. Her, her staff, and her dignity needed to make it back home intact. She just needed to figure out how to cover the short distance back home and to her room without being seen or interacting with anyone.
And then the people she hired to get the darned staff in the first place saw her. In all her elegance and glory, hiding in a back alley. Both the group and Freja paused, let an awkward silence fall between them and stand awkwardly.
“You,” one of them sighed, very visibly not pleased at seeing the noble.
“Me!” Freja said, trying to force her composure to work with her. Her posture going from awkwardly slumped over to trying to stand over the group. “You. All of you. Did. Uhm...”
“Our jobs?” one of them said, looking at her with confusion. The party was clearly not in the adventuring mood since they had changed more or less to casual clothing. “You mean the ones you barely paid us for?”
“Y-Yes!” Freja stammered, feeling that fogginess fill her head as she spoke. “Those jobs you did, uhm... what’s the word...? Tres Magnifique!” Using another language would certainly help her regain control of whatever was going on. Or at least that’s what she was hoping would happen.
“Yeah,” one of the adventurers said, a woman who frankly was a full head taller than the princess said. “Glad you got that part right.” The group murmured similar dissatisfaction with their client as their boss, who Freja was desperately trying to remember the name of, walked over to the princess. “And the other part you didn’t.”
“w-well, that.” she said, trying to muster up the primal energy of her magic to make this ruffian, who now just happened to be looking very attractive to her; remember her place. “Yes. Well. You did, Do... good work.”
“Great work.”
“Great work!” The princess stammered, her head getting foggier as she fought the urge to reward these adventurers more than she planned. “a-and you really, uhm...” the words stopped coming to her, whatever was causing this mental block was winning.
“Compensation.” the lead adventurer said with a blunt tone and expression. “You were all up there on your little chair you demanded we carry and didn’t put any risk on. So. Com. Pen. Sation. Miss Princess.”
Freja literally couldn’t find the words, her body felt like it was burning as she tried, desperately to maintain her ego due to her skill and position. But something was screaming at her to give in to their demands.
“y-yes, you... you were very good at carrying me, an-and keeping me safe so I got this, fabulous, staff.” she managed to fumble out. “I-I suppose that.” her mind screamed at her not to do what she was thinking of. “You, should. Get uhm, more... money?”
“And that we’re agreed on.” the leader said, backing away as Freja felt her knees buckle. Not enough to fall, but enough that the adventurers noticed. “You can’t pretend we hurt you, so don’t try anything.” the larger woman sighed, knowing that if they even moved a hair out of place the noble would unleash the fury of a thousand suns on them.
“I, I would never! I have my dignity!” Freja blurted out, feeling the warmth dissipate from her lower body as she regained her balance. “j-just do one job for me, and I’ll pay you double.”
“Triple.”
“Two and a half!”
“Quadruple.”
“Uhm... fine. That’s less than triple!” Freja said, trying, and failing, to shove the leader out of the way. “Just, get me back home! Please.” The party looked at her, then each other before stepping away and grouping up.
“She’s acting weird, right?” a smaller woman in the group whispered.
“Yeah, she is.” several others agreed. “What do we do, boss?”
“Get her home, last thing we need is her dad thinking we hurt her.” the large woman sighed. The huddle broke and they looked at the princess, her cheeks purple on her blue hued skin with a blush. “All right, we’ll get you home. But we’re getting our pay.”
“V-very good!” Freja stammered, taking a step in the completely wrong direction before the boss of the adventurers stopped her. “I, just needed to go around you! I know where I live!” she said, feeling odd as she wasn’t demanding to be carried by them.
“Right...” the boss said, looking at her team with a skeptically raised eyebrow. They followed her in mostly silence, each member looking more and more confused as they had to direct the princess back towards where she, presumably, had just left.
“Take a left,” the boss said, seeing Freja stumble on where to go again. “Seriously, you might need a doctor.”
“T-thank you for your concern!” Freja stammered back, “It is very, nice, of you!” Every little positive word that came out of her mouth made the head fog come back, and the warm sensation between her legs escalate.
What’s worse is that she was starting to think she liked this feeling. Every little word of thanks or polite sentence she uttered made it harder to not succumb to this feeling. Of course, she was arguing with herself the whole time about it, she was above people who worked and earned things the hard way. She was a skilled mage and practically halfway to royalty. Lowering herself to have things like respect and kindness for those less fortunate was beneath her!
At least, that’s what she wanted to think. But with every little nudge, begrudged sigh and word of thanks she gave to this adventuring party, she found it both harder to think and harder to disagree with the new thoughts filling her head.
Not to mention, every time she looked at the adventurers, something else started to build. They worked so hard and put up with her when she was so rude. Maybe, just maybe, they deserved more than money.
The thought was pushed down as they finally reached her home. The guards looked at the group with confusion as the leader of the adventurers just shrugged.
“Prinzessin?” one of them said as she hurried past them.
“Just, pay them! What they want!” she shouted, vanishing into the building to try and cope with the bizarre feelings. She rushed past everyone, blurting out apologies she wished she didn’t mean to them as they all looked at her with confusion.
“Okay, fuck.” she sighed, not even mentally chiding herself for the curse word. “What is going on,” she fell unceremoniously on her bed and let the staff fall to the floor. Her head was pounding, the fog was still in her mind, she didn’t even dare try to heal the headache she was now suffering from.
She sat in silence for a while, the headache growing worse as she thought about apologizing to everyone she ran past without so much as a hello. It sickened her and left her with more questions than answers.
“Okay, screw this,” she mumbled, grabbing her staff once again and staring at it. “You, you boost magic, time to get rid of this headache!” It was a simple healing spell, even if she couldn’t focus it’d be simple enough to cast.
The spell was case and Freja blinked for a minute. Just waiting to feel the relief of a clear head and no more strange thoughts. She hummed, feeling the pressure dissipate from her mind,
“Oh... that’s so much better,” she sighed, turning over and looking at the ceiling. “...what was I doing again?” The thoughts escaped her, but at least she didn’t have a headache. “Can’t have been important in that case then.”
She waited in her room, just in case her head started hurting again. Some people were moving back and forth outside of her room, had she really made such a scene? With a shrug, Freja stood up from her bed and walked to the door. Opening it to see the maid she had collided with earlier.
“Oh! You!” she said, feeling a soft smile form on her face. The maid looked nervous, and probably was expecting a verbal beatdown. “Oh my gosh, I am, so sorry for running into you!” the noble said, getting the Maid to visibly relax.
And then an idea, a horrible, status destroying idea came to Freja.
And she couldn’t care less about the implications of it.
If verbally making someone feel good was making her feel fantastic, then what if she took it a step further?
“Come into my room! I need to make it up to you!” she said, the maid turning beet red as she nodded. A careful step inside, the turn of the lock on the door, and a dirty look at the maid were all Freja needed to make sure this maid knew how good she could feel as an apology.
The pursuit of magic was an endless one, for various reasons and goals. Some wanted power, to conquer and destroy. Others wanted to mend the world, bringing peace and joy. Some wanted prestige, fame and fortune abound. So naturally there was a cavalcade of motivations for people, some good and some ill.
And more than you’d expect were just plain selfish. Even if it was for a dare or to satisfy one's ego thousands would pursue it. Some ancient magi prepared for this and set up punishments for those who would rob graves or delve into tombs in a quest for power.
One such person was a powerful sorceress, Prinzessin Freja Von Rosenburg. A young woman gifted in the magical arts who naturally wanted to have the best of the best in terms of magical equipment and prestige. Naturally, however, this had led to a bit of an ego problem with the woman.
Born to a prince elect, having access to anything she could want and being talented in magic. It was a damning combination. Especially when she realized what she could force her way through due to her large personality and similarly large assets. Meaning it was a simple task to get adventurers hired to get what she wanted if it’d turn out to be a challenge.
And she did, a group of her servants and adventurers looking to move up socially were easy to buy. Especially for a dangerous place full of dust and dirt. Monsters were no issue, after all she was the most powerful person (in her own mind) in the world.
So, the traps had been sprung, the monsters had been blasted and she hadn’t even had to risk chipping a nail. Her entourage was exhausted, but the relic she wanted was right in front of her.
“Well, thanks to MY hard work,” She boasted, knowing the grumbles from her group were just proving how hard she worked. “We have our treasure!” and said treasure was now being held right against her body. The pink staff of some powerful mage she didn’t care to remember the name of.
“Ugh, how tacky.” she mumbled as she motioned for her entourage to start carrying her out. “Really? A heart? I heard this old fogy was cringe, but I didn’t think it’d be that bad.” She ignored the grumblings of her allies, since after all they should just be happy, she is letting them use this as experience and exposure. “Come on, move faster! Everything's dealt with and I am not chipping a nail!”
There was almost no resistance from any of the other adventurers, they all knew they would get paid one way or another. Even If the bratty woman who hired them didn’t want too. But nonetheless, it was a pain to carry someone out of a dungeon, almost worse than carrying them in.
The trip back was thankfully uneventful, other than more grumbling from the people who did most of the work.
“And now, adieu!” Freja laughed, leaving the adventurers on the doorstep as she took the artifact with her. The tired grumbles now leaving her mind as she admired her treasure in actual lighting. It certainly had an aura of powerful magic, maybe if she had bothered to pay attention to stories about the sorcerer who used it, she would know more. But that stuff was just boring to her, why should she care about the past?
But now, as she entered her lavish bed spread and looked at herself in the mirror. She saw the most horrible thing that could have happened to a brave and more importantly beautiful magic user.
Her dress had the slightest, most miniscule smudge on it. It could’ve been from anything, dust, her entourage, even the staff itself could’ve had some dirt fall on her.
“Augh, of course! Of course, someone got me dirty!” she wailed, no one really paying her mind as it was a normal occurrence for her to be overdramatic. “Utterly disgusting and useless, all of them! Now I need a new outfit!”
Her doors slammed shut, her closet slammed open, and her clothing was flung with reckless abandon over her bed and her treasure. Thus, distracting her from doing literally any research or investigating what she had acquired. Just leaving it alone as something in its ancient magic started to stir.
The staff glowed, obscured from all prying eyes. Despite her intellect and magical prowess, Freja’s ego eclipsed that. All she knew was the staff’s beneficial powers, so she was completely unprepared for the ramifications of it. No detect curses, no warding’s, just pure unfiltered ego to protect her from anything.
But, for now, she wouldn’t notice. She was too busy fixing her new outfit. A black silk dress with gold trim and inlaid fabric. Tights that showed off her curves and a few adjustments to the top allowed it to show off her body in a way that screamed ‘I own you’ to passersby who didn’t know better. Elegant, eye catching and entrancing. All to be mocked and denied when someone approached her.
The princess flipped her hair, letting the red locks cascade down to her shoulders, free of all bindings she needed for travel. After all, she couldn’t risk her hair getting things like dirt and debris in it. Then were her gloves, full length and connected to her dress as she adjusted things with each hand.
A simple, elegant dress for whatever the mage wanted. Tea, dinner, anyone she could command? Frankly if she didn’t feel this was her norm, one could assume she thought the entire world belonged to her.
Some makeup, jewelry, and she was ready for the evening, and naturally she needed to take her new staff. While pink was not her ideal color, the contrast would be eye catching and entrancing. The benefits of the staff being just the slightest bit taller than her. And that was the first chance it had to work on its new master.
She didn’t notice anything, not at first, as she carefully looked at her staff and grimaced.
“it’s so tacky... but it should make me totally unstoppable if I want it too.” she grumbled, pleasantly surprised that it was very light despite its length. “Well, it’s famous, so it’ll just make me look better!”
There was a tug at the back of her mind, that maybe she should investigate her new equipment more. Ensure she didn’t forget something important about it. But of course, she didn’t feel the need too, after all she was a fantastic magic user in her own right.
So now she went out, purely on the town to show off. Herself, the staff, her own prowess of how she definitely earned this artifact with her own skill and not from forcing others to do the work for her.
Her door swung open as she walked out, the clack of her heels echoing through the building as she strode towards the entrance. Servants took quick glimpses at her, after all, she wanted all eyes on her and her new toy.
At least, she wanted them on her for her looks and her status, not for why she found herself with a maid on the floor in front of her. Or a sudden pain in her chest.
To onlookers, she had just confidently plowed into one of the maids due to her ego. So, they all knew to expect the princess to explode and drag the maid verbally across the entire castle. They waited, with bated breath, knowing just how ruthless she would be.
And nothing, not a single spoiled scream came from the noble. A few people looked up, and with an uncharacteristic gentleness, Freja was extending her hand.
“Well? Get up!” she said, not sure why she was doing this. But something was making this small act of kindness feel phenomenal. “Just be more careful next time.” The maid was stunned and slowly stood up, mumbled some sort of apology that Freja didn’t care enough to hear as she walked off.
“Wait... she got dirt on me, didn’t she?” the mage said, looking down at her dress. Thankfully there wasn’t a smudge on her. Nothing was out of place or dirtied by the collision. Not even the fit of her dress needed adjustment. “Well... good!”
Again, something was nagging at her in the back of her mind. She did yell at the maid who so rudely walked in her vicinity. She should be livid, furious, dragged her for her insolence of thinking she could even exist in her presence. But there was no anger, not even a hint of irritation at the lower-class servant being near her.
“Hmph!” Freja said with a smirk to no one in particular. “Clearly my adventures have just made me tolerate the low class’s mistakes!” She continued to stride off, not quite sure what the feeling in the back of her mind was, knowing it couldn’t be anything that would affect her on a significant level. Or more accurately, her ego was telling her that.
However, as she walked, the incidents continued. From someone wanting to compliment her dress, to smaller collisions that should’ve by all rights let her fly off the handle. But she didn’t, in fact, she felt better every time she didn’t explode at someone.
Clearly the adventure had tired her out. She couldn’t possibly be turning... nice, could she?
“Nice? To those cretins?” She mumbled as she shook her head, catching her hair frizzing out now that she could tell something was wrong. “Never. Not in a million years!” She was above them all of course, she was smarter, more powerful than most of the rabble in this region. Her parents were both skilled mages and her father was a prince elect. She was factually above everyone in her mind.
Her staff was just the icing on the cake. The symbol that proved she was in fact a skilled mage, even if she couldn’t care less about the history behind it. All she needed to know about it was that it was hers now, and it would increase her power.
Though, the longer she was holding it, having it near her, it was correlating with the sudden change in demeanor. She stopped and dipped into a side street free of anyone who could see her. Freja needed to get control of whatever was going on.
“...Wait... what do I do here?” she mumbled, trying to rack her brain for what could even be going on. There was a level of fogginess to her brain that wasn’t there before. “Maybe I'm tired...” she sighed, not wanting to risk running into anyone else now. “Being nice to these... people, shouldn’t feel good.”
The words left her mouth as the feeling of something strange tickled the back of her mind. She needed to think but was finding it significantly harder at the moment. The staff moved from hand to hand as she tried to think of what could be going on.
But it was getting so hard to think, her mind was unfocused, and she was finding herself dealing with some... feelings. In her body. Specifically, her lower body. Every little thing, little nice thing she found herself doing made that fogginess and feeling grow.
What’s worse is she didn’t think she hated it. But for now, she needed to try and get control of the situation. Her, her staff, and her dignity needed to make it back home intact. She just needed to figure out how to cover the short distance back home and to her room without being seen or interacting with anyone.
And then the people she hired to get the darned staff in the first place saw her. In all her elegance and glory, hiding in a back alley. Both the group and Freja paused, let an awkward silence fall between them and stand awkwardly.
“You,” one of them sighed, very visibly not pleased at seeing the noble.
“Me!” Freja said, trying to force her composure to work with her. Her posture going from awkwardly slumped over to trying to stand over the group. “You. All of you. Did. Uhm...”
“Our jobs?” one of them said, looking at her with confusion. The party was clearly not in the adventuring mood since they had changed more or less to casual clothing. “You mean the ones you barely paid us for?”
“Y-Yes!” Freja stammered, feeling that fogginess fill her head as she spoke. “Those jobs you did, uhm... what’s the word...? Tres Magnifique!” Using another language would certainly help her regain control of whatever was going on. Or at least that’s what she was hoping would happen.
“Yeah,” one of the adventurers said, a woman who frankly was a full head taller than the princess said. “Glad you got that part right.” The group murmured similar dissatisfaction with their client as their boss, who Freja was desperately trying to remember the name of, walked over to the princess. “And the other part you didn’t.”
“w-well, that.” she said, trying to muster up the primal energy of her magic to make this ruffian, who now just happened to be looking very attractive to her; remember her place. “Yes. Well. You did, Do... good work.”
“Great work.”
“Great work!” The princess stammered, her head getting foggier as she fought the urge to reward these adventurers more than she planned. “a-and you really, uhm...” the words stopped coming to her, whatever was causing this mental block was winning.
“Compensation.” the lead adventurer said with a blunt tone and expression. “You were all up there on your little chair you demanded we carry and didn’t put any risk on. So. Com. Pen. Sation. Miss Princess.”
Freja literally couldn’t find the words, her body felt like it was burning as she tried, desperately to maintain her ego due to her skill and position. But something was screaming at her to give in to their demands.
“y-yes, you... you were very good at carrying me, an-and keeping me safe so I got this, fabulous, staff.” she managed to fumble out. “I-I suppose that.” her mind screamed at her not to do what she was thinking of. “You, should. Get uhm, more... money?”
“And that we’re agreed on.” the leader said, backing away as Freja felt her knees buckle. Not enough to fall, but enough that the adventurers noticed. “You can’t pretend we hurt you, so don’t try anything.” the larger woman sighed, knowing that if they even moved a hair out of place the noble would unleash the fury of a thousand suns on them.
“I, I would never! I have my dignity!” Freja blurted out, feeling the warmth dissipate from her lower body as she regained her balance. “j-just do one job for me, and I’ll pay you double.”
“Triple.”
“Two and a half!”
“Quadruple.”
“Uhm... fine. That’s less than triple!” Freja said, trying, and failing, to shove the leader out of the way. “Just, get me back home! Please.” The party looked at her, then each other before stepping away and grouping up.
“She’s acting weird, right?” a smaller woman in the group whispered.
“Yeah, she is.” several others agreed. “What do we do, boss?”
“Get her home, last thing we need is her dad thinking we hurt her.” the large woman sighed. The huddle broke and they looked at the princess, her cheeks purple on her blue hued skin with a blush. “All right, we’ll get you home. But we’re getting our pay.”
“V-very good!” Freja stammered, taking a step in the completely wrong direction before the boss of the adventurers stopped her. “I, just needed to go around you! I know where I live!” she said, feeling odd as she wasn’t demanding to be carried by them.
“Right...” the boss said, looking at her team with a skeptically raised eyebrow. They followed her in mostly silence, each member looking more and more confused as they had to direct the princess back towards where she, presumably, had just left.
“Take a left,” the boss said, seeing Freja stumble on where to go again. “Seriously, you might need a doctor.”
“T-thank you for your concern!” Freja stammered back, “It is very, nice, of you!” Every little positive word that came out of her mouth made the head fog come back, and the warm sensation between her legs escalate.
What’s worse is that she was starting to think she liked this feeling. Every little word of thanks or polite sentence she uttered made it harder to not succumb to this feeling. Of course, she was arguing with herself the whole time about it, she was above people who worked and earned things the hard way. She was a skilled mage and practically halfway to royalty. Lowering herself to have things like respect and kindness for those less fortunate was beneath her!
At least, that’s what she wanted to think. But with every little nudge, begrudged sigh and word of thanks she gave to this adventuring party, she found it both harder to think and harder to disagree with the new thoughts filling her head.
Not to mention, every time she looked at the adventurers, something else started to build. They worked so hard and put up with her when she was so rude. Maybe, just maybe, they deserved more than money.
The thought was pushed down as they finally reached her home. The guards looked at the group with confusion as the leader of the adventurers just shrugged.
“Prinzessin?” one of them said as she hurried past them.
“Just, pay them! What they want!” she shouted, vanishing into the building to try and cope with the bizarre feelings. She rushed past everyone, blurting out apologies she wished she didn’t mean to them as they all looked at her with confusion.
“Okay, fuck.” she sighed, not even mentally chiding herself for the curse word. “What is going on,” she fell unceremoniously on her bed and let the staff fall to the floor. Her head was pounding, the fog was still in her mind, she didn’t even dare try to heal the headache she was now suffering from.
She sat in silence for a while, the headache growing worse as she thought about apologizing to everyone she ran past without so much as a hello. It sickened her and left her with more questions than answers.
“Okay, screw this,” she mumbled, grabbing her staff once again and staring at it. “You, you boost magic, time to get rid of this headache!” It was a simple healing spell, even if she couldn’t focus it’d be simple enough to cast.
The spell was case and Freja blinked for a minute. Just waiting to feel the relief of a clear head and no more strange thoughts. She hummed, feeling the pressure dissipate from her mind,
“Oh... that’s so much better,” she sighed, turning over and looking at the ceiling. “...what was I doing again?” The thoughts escaped her, but at least she didn’t have a headache. “Can’t have been important in that case then.”
She waited in her room, just in case her head started hurting again. Some people were moving back and forth outside of her room, had she really made such a scene? With a shrug, Freja stood up from her bed and walked to the door. Opening it to see the maid she had collided with earlier.
“Oh! You!” she said, feeling a soft smile form on her face. The maid looked nervous, and probably was expecting a verbal beatdown. “Oh my gosh, I am, so sorry for running into you!” the noble said, getting the Maid to visibly relax.
And then an idea, a horrible, status destroying idea came to Freja.
And she couldn’t care less about the implications of it.
If verbally making someone feel good was making her feel fantastic, then what if she took it a step further?
“Come into my room! I need to make it up to you!” she said, the maid turning beet red as she nodded. A careful step inside, the turn of the lock on the door, and a dirty look at the maid were all Freja needed to make sure this maid knew how good she could feel as an apology.
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