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Rumors about a possession themed website on the dark web have been going around. A man named John and his four friends, Kevin, James, Steve, and Russel, come across the website by chance, and they all think it's just some fake website... but they decide to try it out, given the first hour of possession was free for new users. They signed up and opted to just possess the bodies of John's neighbors, the Drews. The family consisted of a MILF mom, a fitness model dad, a med student daughter, and two fraternal twins (a male and female) who had just started their freshman year in college.
John and his friends were surprised the site actually worked, and their curiosity got the better of them. They had sex in every possible combination: mother and son, father and daughters, sisters and brother, mother and sister... lets just say that John and his friends became frequent users of the site, with the Drew family being their main hosts!
John and his friends were surprised the site actually worked, and their curiosity got the better of them. They had sex in every possible combination: mother and son, father and daughters, sisters and brother, mother and sister... lets just say that John and his friends became frequent users of the site, with the Drew family being their main hosts!
possession incest sex smut
by
AziAzi
· 14 Sep 2025
John successfully possessed Henry's body, and when he went back to his apartment to tell the guys, it seemed they had already figure out it works, and possessed the rest of the Drews while John was heading back. John quickly heads to the Drew's apartment, only to see that his friends had already started to get acquainted with their borrowed bodies!
possession
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by
AziAzi
· 14 Sep 2025
John quickly joins in with his friends, and thus starts the wild night the friends were going to have...
possession
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You and your group of friends won a raffle that awarded you with five tickets to Spooky Island! It was the new resort island being endorsed by Sydney Sweeney, it’s gimmick was supposedly a spooky and entertaining summer experience, and since you guys were on summer break, you definitely thought it was a sign to enjoy the island.
Little did you know that the island held a dark secret. It was secretly the den of a clan of demons who steal human bodies with a relic called the Daemon Ritus. They luckily managed to steal Sydney Sweeneys body when she visited the island for a photo shoot… and now she and her fellow demons trick people into going to the island to steal their bodies. You found out about this secret and promised to help out, so long as you get some benefits…
The email notification pinged on my phone just as I was stuffing it into my backpack, and the bold subject line made my heart skip: CONGRATULATIONS! YOU AND YOUR FRIENDS HAVE WON A VIP TRIP TO SPOOKY ISLAND!
"Guys, check this out!" I practically shouted, nearly knocking over Kaori’s iced coffee as I jumped up from the tiny café table. Nate, Jade, Kaori, and Trisha all turned—mid-bickering over who had to sit in the middle seat on the train later—as I shook my phone at them. "We just won an all-expenses-paid trip to Spooky Island!"
Nate snatched the phone out of my hands, scrolling with the urgency of a man about to abandon all responsibilities. "The Spooky Island? The one with the Sydney Sweeney ads where everyone is making out in slow motion?" His grin widened. "Private villas, endless drinks, adult-friendly activities—hell yes."
Trisha flicked a sugar packet at his forehead. "Or, y’know, we end up in some weird Satanic beach ritual à la Midsommar."
Jade smirked, swirling her latte. "Worth it."
Kaori tucked a strand of pink-streaked hair behind her ear and shrugged. "Sydney Sweeney wouldn’t lie. She’s got integrity."
Before Trisha could list all the ways we’d probably get kidnapped, I hit CONFIRM.
Four days later, we landed on the island, and the second the plane doors opened, the heat and the bassline hit us like a wave. The beach ahead was alive—palm trees strung with glowing lanterns, groups of glossy-skinned people tangled in hammocks, and the distant sound of someone moaning like they’d just discovered pleasure for the first time.
Nate pushed his sunglasses onto his head, his expression pure delight. "Oh, we’re definitely supposed to be naked here."
He wasn’t wrong. Down by the shoreline, a girl in nothing but body paint was twerking against a guy wearing only a very loose cowboy hat. A group of guys sprinted past, their tans suddenly very even, and two girls were locked in a kiss so aggressive they nearly toppled into the surf.
Trisha’s eyebrows shot up. "Okay, I take it back. This is exactly my brand of cult activity."
A staff member—wearing what could barely be called a bikini—bounced over, dangling neon wristbands in front of us. "Welcome to your best summer ever!" she cheered, snapping them onto our wrists. "Rules are simple: No clothes, no shame, no regrets!"
Behind her, someone shrieked as they jumped off a pier naked, cannonballing into a cheering crowd. Another couple had tequila poured straight onto their bodies, licking it off each other’s stomachs between laughter.
Jade nudged me with her elbow. "Told you we should’ve packed more than sunscreen."
Nate stretched his arms out, breathing in the salty, debauchery-filled air. "This is the kind of horror story I can get behind."
The staff member motioned for us to follow her toward the hotel, her barely-there bikini bottoms swaying hypnotically with every step. Nate and I exchanged a glance, both of us shamelessly locked onto the mesmerizing rhythm of her ass.
"Eyes up here, you two," Trisha snapped, smacking me upside the head hard enough to make my teeth click.
Kaori and Jade flanked Nate, each grabbing a handful of his cheeks—one pinching, the other twisting—until he yelped.
"Ow! Okay, okay!" Nate rubbed his face, grinning despite himself. "What? Like you weren’t looking."
Jade rolled her eyes. "We were. But we have manners."
Kaori smirked, adjusting her sunglasses. "And better poker faces."
The staff member glanced back over her shoulder, clearly aware of the chaos behind her, and winked. "Don’t worry, boys. You’ll have plenty to stare at soon enough."
Trisha groaned. "Oh, we’re doomed."
Once we arrived at the hotel we followed a new staff member—a guy this time—through the hotel’s sleek, glass-walled lobby. His fitted polo barely contained his sculpted shoulders, and the way his tan shorts clung to his thighs was downright criminal. Every step made the fabric shift in ways that had even Trisha biting her lip.
The suite was exactly like the one from the ad—plush white couches, floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing the ocean, and what looked like a champagne tub big enough for six. The staff member turned with a grin, dangling a keycard between his fingers. "Private beach access, 24-hour room service, anything you need." His voice dipped lower. "Just give me a call."
Jade and Kaori were not subtle about their gaze dragging from his chest down to the very noticeable bulge in his shorts. Nate nudged me, smirking.
"Eyes up," I stage-whispered, mimicking Trisha’s earlier scolding.
Trisha didn’t even have the decency to look guilty. "Oh, shut up. Like you two weren’t drooling over the last one."
The staff member chuckled, stretching his arms overhead in a way that made the hem of his polo ride up, revealing a strip of toned abs. "Enjoy your stay," he murmured, tossing the keycard onto the counter with deliberate slowness.
The second the door shut behind him, Nate muttered, "That was absolutely on purpose."
Kaori fanned herself with a menu. "And I respect the hustle."
Jade flopped onto the couch, sighing. "We should just accept that we’re all terrible people."
Trisha popped open the champagne with a satisfying pop. "No regrets, right?"
Nate stretched out on the couch with an exaggerated sigh, tilting his head toward the balcony where we could hear the distant laughter from the beach. "Alright, who's brave enough to hit the nude beach with me?"
Trisha scoffed into her champagne glass. "Oh, come on. You're literally just asking so you can see one of us naked."
Nate didn't even try to deny it, shrugging with a shameless grin. "Guilty as charged. But can you blame me? Like, look at you three." He gestured lazily between them. "Jade, you’ve got that whole goddess of temptation thing going on, Trish, you’re built like a Bond girl, and Kaori—" His smirk deepened. "Kaori’s the real mystery. Always covered up, even in swimsuits. Rash guards? Shorts? I mean, what’s under there, huh?"
Kaori almost choked on her drink, her cheeks flushing pink as she immediately broke into rapid-fire Japanese, hands gesturing wildly like she was trying to bat the words out of the air.
Trisha and Jade practically launched themselves at Nate—Trisha delivering a sharp slap to his chest while Jade went straight for his face, flicking his nose hard. "You animal," Jade hissed, though her lips were twitching with amusement.
I scooted closer to Kaori, rubbing her back while she kept murmuring in Japanese, her fingers twisting nervously in the hem of her oversized shirt. "Hey, ignore him," I said softly. "You know Nate—zero brain-to-mouth filter."
Kaori groaned, pressing her palms to her burning cheeks. "Baka!"
Nate just grinned, rubbing his sore nose. "Worth."
Kaori took a deep breath, fingers finally relaxing from their death grip on her shirt. She turned to me with a small, grateful smile. "Thanks, Jason," she murmured, smoothing her shirt down. "But—under no circumstances am I going to that nude beach." She shot Nate a sharp glare. "And no bikinis."
Nate groaned dramatically, flopping back onto the couch. "You're killing me, Kaori."
Jade rolled her eyes. "Oh no, how ever will you survive without seeing Kaori's forbidden skin—"
Trisha tossed a pillow at his face. "Get over it."
I clapped my hands together. "Alright, since we clearly have divergent interests, how about we split up today?" I glanced around the room. "Explore different parts of the island, report back, and make a proper itinerary for the week?"
Nate perked up immediately. "Nude beach. Calling it."
Trisha snorted. "Of course you are." She stretched her arms overhead before nodding toward the island's center. "I was eyeing that hiking trail up to the mountain. Good views, probably less..." She gestured vaguely toward the window where someone had just shrieked, "CHUG CHUG CHUG!"
Jade was already scrolling through the resort’s food map on her phone. "Buffets. All of them."
Kaori folded her arms, but her expression softened. "Surfing lessons. The clothed kind."
And me? I grinned. "The mall. Rumor has it designer brands here are practically giving stuff away."
Nate whistled. "A man of culture."
Trisha nudged me. "Better grab me something nice."
Jade perked up. "Oh! And if you see any limited-edition K-Beauty—"
Kaori smacked her lightly. "Jade."
We all laughed, the tension from earlier dissolving into easy excitement.
Nate stretched with a smug smirk. "Alright. Let the real Spooky Island adventure begin."
We all went our separate ways, with me making everyone promise to message our group chat if they spotted anything wild—or if Nate ended up mooning the entire beach (again).
The rumors about the mall were no joke. Within an hour, I had a legit Rolex wrapped around my wrist, its polished face glinting under the tropical lights. A hundred bucks. A hundred freaking bucks. I kept checking the paperwork—Spooky Island was listed as an official retailer, fine print and all—but my brain still couldn’t process it.
I was halfway to the limited-edition Jordans display when my blood froze mid-step.
Sydney. Sweeney.
Right there, strolling past the Sunglass Hut like this was any normal Tuesday. And she wasn’t alone. A guy I barely registered—tall, broad, looking equal parts confused and thrilled—was being towed along by her manicured grip, Sydney’s free hand pressing a finger to her lips in a shhh motion.
I didn’t even think. My feet moved before my brain could yell BAD IDEA. They ducked into a discreet hallway marked STAFF ONLY, and by the time I crept close enough to peek, Sydney had the guy pinned against the wall, one hand fisted in his shirt.
Sydney pressed closer, her fingers curling into the man's shirt with predatory grace. "You ever fuck someone with one of these meatsuits yet?" she murmured, her breath hot against his ear.
The guy tensed, swallowing hard. "N-no. Just took this body maybe an hour ago." He blinked twice, rolling his shoulders like the sensation of human skin was still foreign. "Still getting used to the... the equipment."
Sydney snorted, running a fingertip down his chest in a way that made him shiver. "Equipment's the same, no matter what species wears it. Just hotter and sweatier now." Her grin widened, all sharp amusement. "Guess I'm your first proper ride in this flesh, huh?"
The guy exhaled sharply, eyes darting down to where her thigh had slotted between his. "Uh. Yeah."
"Good." Sydney pressed her lips to his pulse point, humming when his nails dug into the wall behind him. "Let me show you how humans play."
My phone buzzed violently in my pocket—Nate: GUYS THE BEACH IS OFFICIALLY A NO-CLOTHES-FROM-THE-WAIST-DOWN ZONE???—but I barely registered it. Because I was too busy trying to process whatever weird-ass conversation Sydney was having with this guy.
Meatsuits? Species? What the hell did that even mean?
But then Sydney pressed her thigh between his legs, and the guy let out a sharp, desperate sound, and suddenly, the existential crisis in my brain took an immediate backseat.
Sydney hooked her fingers in the hem of her dress and yanked it up past her hips, revealing the kind of lingerie that made my blood pressure spike. The guy—who was definitely not confused anymore—lunged forward, mouth meeting hers in a kiss that looked more like a fight for dominance than anything tender.
She shoved him back against the wall, and he went willingly, groaning as her hands slid down his body like she was mapping every inch.
My brain short-circuited as Sydney rocked her hips against the guy, her nails raking down his back hard enough to leave red trails. The guy groaned against her neck, fingers digging into her waist as she rode him with ruthless precision. Every movement was pure hunger—the way she rolled her hips, the way she arched her back as he dragged his teeth along her collarbone. My cock strained against my shorts, aching, and before I could stop myself, I had my hand wrapped around it, stroking in time with Sydney’s rhythm.
She was relentless, bouncing on him with bruising force, her moans low and dark as the guy slammed into her. “Fuck me like you mean it,” she growled, gripping his hair to yank his head back. The guy gasped, his body shuddering, and judging by the way his grip tightened on her hips, he was already close.
I wasn’t far behind. Sydney’s thighs tensed, her body clenching around him as she let out a breathless laugh. “Yeah, that’s it—feel it.” Then she locked onto his mouth, swallowing his moans as he buried himself deep inside her. His whole body went rigid, a choked cry tearing from his throat as he came, pulse after pulse, hands clawing at her skin as she milked him dry.
Sydney followed seconds later, her back arching violently, head thrown back—but instead of a moan, she let out a sound that sent ice through my veins. A rough, guttural snarl, inhuman and raw, like something out of a nightmare.
Holy shit. My fingers clenched, my orgasm hitting me in a wave I couldn’t stop, spurting hot and thick onto the floor between my feet.
The moment I came back to my senses, I was shoving myself back into my shorts, my pulse roaring in my ears. That sound—it wasn’t right. Whatever the hell Sydney was, she wasn’t human, and I needed to be gone.
I didn’t even bother zipping up properly before bolting for the door, my breath coming in sharp, panicked gasps. Just as my fingers brushed the handle, I heard it—Sydney’s sharp inhale.
“Cum,” she muttered, voice dripping with menace.
Dread coiled in my gut as I risked one last glance back. Sydney had dropped into a crouch, her fingers tracing through the mess I’d left behind. Her gaze flicked up—right toward the shadows where I’d been standing—and the growl that followed sent me scrambling forward.
“Someone here still owns their flesh,” she snarled. “And they saw us.”
I didn’t stick around to hear the rest.
Little did you know that the island held a dark secret. It was secretly the den of a clan of demons who steal human bodies with a relic called the Daemon Ritus. They luckily managed to steal Sydney Sweeneys body when she visited the island for a photo shoot… and now she and her fellow demons trick people into going to the island to steal their bodies. You found out about this secret and promised to help out, so long as you get some benefits…
The email notification pinged on my phone just as I was stuffing it into my backpack, and the bold subject line made my heart skip: CONGRATULATIONS! YOU AND YOUR FRIENDS HAVE WON A VIP TRIP TO SPOOKY ISLAND!
"Guys, check this out!" I practically shouted, nearly knocking over Kaori’s iced coffee as I jumped up from the tiny café table. Nate, Jade, Kaori, and Trisha all turned—mid-bickering over who had to sit in the middle seat on the train later—as I shook my phone at them. "We just won an all-expenses-paid trip to Spooky Island!"
Nate snatched the phone out of my hands, scrolling with the urgency of a man about to abandon all responsibilities. "The Spooky Island? The one with the Sydney Sweeney ads where everyone is making out in slow motion?" His grin widened. "Private villas, endless drinks, adult-friendly activities—hell yes."
Trisha flicked a sugar packet at his forehead. "Or, y’know, we end up in some weird Satanic beach ritual à la Midsommar."
Jade smirked, swirling her latte. "Worth it."
Kaori tucked a strand of pink-streaked hair behind her ear and shrugged. "Sydney Sweeney wouldn’t lie. She’s got integrity."
Before Trisha could list all the ways we’d probably get kidnapped, I hit CONFIRM.
Four days later, we landed on the island, and the second the plane doors opened, the heat and the bassline hit us like a wave. The beach ahead was alive—palm trees strung with glowing lanterns, groups of glossy-skinned people tangled in hammocks, and the distant sound of someone moaning like they’d just discovered pleasure for the first time.
Nate pushed his sunglasses onto his head, his expression pure delight. "Oh, we’re definitely supposed to be naked here."
He wasn’t wrong. Down by the shoreline, a girl in nothing but body paint was twerking against a guy wearing only a very loose cowboy hat. A group of guys sprinted past, their tans suddenly very even, and two girls were locked in a kiss so aggressive they nearly toppled into the surf.
Trisha’s eyebrows shot up. "Okay, I take it back. This is exactly my brand of cult activity."
A staff member—wearing what could barely be called a bikini—bounced over, dangling neon wristbands in front of us. "Welcome to your best summer ever!" she cheered, snapping them onto our wrists. "Rules are simple: No clothes, no shame, no regrets!"
Behind her, someone shrieked as they jumped off a pier naked, cannonballing into a cheering crowd. Another couple had tequila poured straight onto their bodies, licking it off each other’s stomachs between laughter.
Jade nudged me with her elbow. "Told you we should’ve packed more than sunscreen."
Nate stretched his arms out, breathing in the salty, debauchery-filled air. "This is the kind of horror story I can get behind."
The staff member motioned for us to follow her toward the hotel, her barely-there bikini bottoms swaying hypnotically with every step. Nate and I exchanged a glance, both of us shamelessly locked onto the mesmerizing rhythm of her ass.
"Eyes up here, you two," Trisha snapped, smacking me upside the head hard enough to make my teeth click.
Kaori and Jade flanked Nate, each grabbing a handful of his cheeks—one pinching, the other twisting—until he yelped.
"Ow! Okay, okay!" Nate rubbed his face, grinning despite himself. "What? Like you weren’t looking."
Jade rolled her eyes. "We were. But we have manners."
Kaori smirked, adjusting her sunglasses. "And better poker faces."
The staff member glanced back over her shoulder, clearly aware of the chaos behind her, and winked. "Don’t worry, boys. You’ll have plenty to stare at soon enough."
Trisha groaned. "Oh, we’re doomed."
Once we arrived at the hotel we followed a new staff member—a guy this time—through the hotel’s sleek, glass-walled lobby. His fitted polo barely contained his sculpted shoulders, and the way his tan shorts clung to his thighs was downright criminal. Every step made the fabric shift in ways that had even Trisha biting her lip.
The suite was exactly like the one from the ad—plush white couches, floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing the ocean, and what looked like a champagne tub big enough for six. The staff member turned with a grin, dangling a keycard between his fingers. "Private beach access, 24-hour room service, anything you need." His voice dipped lower. "Just give me a call."
Jade and Kaori were not subtle about their gaze dragging from his chest down to the very noticeable bulge in his shorts. Nate nudged me, smirking.
"Eyes up," I stage-whispered, mimicking Trisha’s earlier scolding.
Trisha didn’t even have the decency to look guilty. "Oh, shut up. Like you two weren’t drooling over the last one."
The staff member chuckled, stretching his arms overhead in a way that made the hem of his polo ride up, revealing a strip of toned abs. "Enjoy your stay," he murmured, tossing the keycard onto the counter with deliberate slowness.
The second the door shut behind him, Nate muttered, "That was absolutely on purpose."
Kaori fanned herself with a menu. "And I respect the hustle."
Jade flopped onto the couch, sighing. "We should just accept that we’re all terrible people."
Trisha popped open the champagne with a satisfying pop. "No regrets, right?"
Nate stretched out on the couch with an exaggerated sigh, tilting his head toward the balcony where we could hear the distant laughter from the beach. "Alright, who's brave enough to hit the nude beach with me?"
Trisha scoffed into her champagne glass. "Oh, come on. You're literally just asking so you can see one of us naked."
Nate didn't even try to deny it, shrugging with a shameless grin. "Guilty as charged. But can you blame me? Like, look at you three." He gestured lazily between them. "Jade, you’ve got that whole goddess of temptation thing going on, Trish, you’re built like a Bond girl, and Kaori—" His smirk deepened. "Kaori’s the real mystery. Always covered up, even in swimsuits. Rash guards? Shorts? I mean, what’s under there, huh?"
Kaori almost choked on her drink, her cheeks flushing pink as she immediately broke into rapid-fire Japanese, hands gesturing wildly like she was trying to bat the words out of the air.
Trisha and Jade practically launched themselves at Nate—Trisha delivering a sharp slap to his chest while Jade went straight for his face, flicking his nose hard. "You animal," Jade hissed, though her lips were twitching with amusement.
I scooted closer to Kaori, rubbing her back while she kept murmuring in Japanese, her fingers twisting nervously in the hem of her oversized shirt. "Hey, ignore him," I said softly. "You know Nate—zero brain-to-mouth filter."
Kaori groaned, pressing her palms to her burning cheeks. "Baka!"
Nate just grinned, rubbing his sore nose. "Worth."
Kaori took a deep breath, fingers finally relaxing from their death grip on her shirt. She turned to me with a small, grateful smile. "Thanks, Jason," she murmured, smoothing her shirt down. "But—under no circumstances am I going to that nude beach." She shot Nate a sharp glare. "And no bikinis."
Nate groaned dramatically, flopping back onto the couch. "You're killing me, Kaori."
Jade rolled her eyes. "Oh no, how ever will you survive without seeing Kaori's forbidden skin—"
Trisha tossed a pillow at his face. "Get over it."
I clapped my hands together. "Alright, since we clearly have divergent interests, how about we split up today?" I glanced around the room. "Explore different parts of the island, report back, and make a proper itinerary for the week?"
Nate perked up immediately. "Nude beach. Calling it."
Trisha snorted. "Of course you are." She stretched her arms overhead before nodding toward the island's center. "I was eyeing that hiking trail up to the mountain. Good views, probably less..." She gestured vaguely toward the window where someone had just shrieked, "CHUG CHUG CHUG!"
Jade was already scrolling through the resort’s food map on her phone. "Buffets. All of them."
Kaori folded her arms, but her expression softened. "Surfing lessons. The clothed kind."
And me? I grinned. "The mall. Rumor has it designer brands here are practically giving stuff away."
Nate whistled. "A man of culture."
Trisha nudged me. "Better grab me something nice."
Jade perked up. "Oh! And if you see any limited-edition K-Beauty—"
Kaori smacked her lightly. "Jade."
We all laughed, the tension from earlier dissolving into easy excitement.
Nate stretched with a smug smirk. "Alright. Let the real Spooky Island adventure begin."
We all went our separate ways, with me making everyone promise to message our group chat if they spotted anything wild—or if Nate ended up mooning the entire beach (again).
The rumors about the mall were no joke. Within an hour, I had a legit Rolex wrapped around my wrist, its polished face glinting under the tropical lights. A hundred bucks. A hundred freaking bucks. I kept checking the paperwork—Spooky Island was listed as an official retailer, fine print and all—but my brain still couldn’t process it.
I was halfway to the limited-edition Jordans display when my blood froze mid-step.
Sydney. Sweeney.
Right there, strolling past the Sunglass Hut like this was any normal Tuesday. And she wasn’t alone. A guy I barely registered—tall, broad, looking equal parts confused and thrilled—was being towed along by her manicured grip, Sydney’s free hand pressing a finger to her lips in a shhh motion.
I didn’t even think. My feet moved before my brain could yell BAD IDEA. They ducked into a discreet hallway marked STAFF ONLY, and by the time I crept close enough to peek, Sydney had the guy pinned against the wall, one hand fisted in his shirt.
Sydney pressed closer, her fingers curling into the man's shirt with predatory grace. "You ever fuck someone with one of these meatsuits yet?" she murmured, her breath hot against his ear.
The guy tensed, swallowing hard. "N-no. Just took this body maybe an hour ago." He blinked twice, rolling his shoulders like the sensation of human skin was still foreign. "Still getting used to the... the equipment."
Sydney snorted, running a fingertip down his chest in a way that made him shiver. "Equipment's the same, no matter what species wears it. Just hotter and sweatier now." Her grin widened, all sharp amusement. "Guess I'm your first proper ride in this flesh, huh?"
The guy exhaled sharply, eyes darting down to where her thigh had slotted between his. "Uh. Yeah."
"Good." Sydney pressed her lips to his pulse point, humming when his nails dug into the wall behind him. "Let me show you how humans play."
My phone buzzed violently in my pocket—Nate: GUYS THE BEACH IS OFFICIALLY A NO-CLOTHES-FROM-THE-WAIST-DOWN ZONE???—but I barely registered it. Because I was too busy trying to process whatever weird-ass conversation Sydney was having with this guy.
Meatsuits? Species? What the hell did that even mean?
But then Sydney pressed her thigh between his legs, and the guy let out a sharp, desperate sound, and suddenly, the existential crisis in my brain took an immediate backseat.
Sydney hooked her fingers in the hem of her dress and yanked it up past her hips, revealing the kind of lingerie that made my blood pressure spike. The guy—who was definitely not confused anymore—lunged forward, mouth meeting hers in a kiss that looked more like a fight for dominance than anything tender.
She shoved him back against the wall, and he went willingly, groaning as her hands slid down his body like she was mapping every inch.
My brain short-circuited as Sydney rocked her hips against the guy, her nails raking down his back hard enough to leave red trails. The guy groaned against her neck, fingers digging into her waist as she rode him with ruthless precision. Every movement was pure hunger—the way she rolled her hips, the way she arched her back as he dragged his teeth along her collarbone. My cock strained against my shorts, aching, and before I could stop myself, I had my hand wrapped around it, stroking in time with Sydney’s rhythm.
She was relentless, bouncing on him with bruising force, her moans low and dark as the guy slammed into her. “Fuck me like you mean it,” she growled, gripping his hair to yank his head back. The guy gasped, his body shuddering, and judging by the way his grip tightened on her hips, he was already close.
I wasn’t far behind. Sydney’s thighs tensed, her body clenching around him as she let out a breathless laugh. “Yeah, that’s it—feel it.” Then she locked onto his mouth, swallowing his moans as he buried himself deep inside her. His whole body went rigid, a choked cry tearing from his throat as he came, pulse after pulse, hands clawing at her skin as she milked him dry.
Sydney followed seconds later, her back arching violently, head thrown back—but instead of a moan, she let out a sound that sent ice through my veins. A rough, guttural snarl, inhuman and raw, like something out of a nightmare.
Holy shit. My fingers clenched, my orgasm hitting me in a wave I couldn’t stop, spurting hot and thick onto the floor between my feet.
The moment I came back to my senses, I was shoving myself back into my shorts, my pulse roaring in my ears. That sound—it wasn’t right. Whatever the hell Sydney was, she wasn’t human, and I needed to be gone.
I didn’t even bother zipping up properly before bolting for the door, my breath coming in sharp, panicked gasps. Just as my fingers brushed the handle, I heard it—Sydney’s sharp inhale.
“Cum,” she muttered, voice dripping with menace.
Dread coiled in my gut as I risked one last glance back. Sydney had dropped into a crouch, her fingers tracing through the mess I’d left behind. Her gaze flicked up—right toward the shadows where I’d been standing—and the growl that followed sent me scrambling forward.
“Someone here still owns their flesh,” she snarled. “And they saw us.”
I didn’t stick around to hear the rest.
possession
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Cynthia doesn't want anything to do with Stanley, the creep who lives next door. But Stanley is willing to go to great lengths to get what he wants, including making a deal with a dangerous entity that offers to become a mirror clone of Cynthia. All he has to do, is give it the opportunity to come into our world.
Part 1: Cynthia
“Cynthia! You have a present!”
As my mom’s voice rang through the house, I was initially excited. I mean, a present is a good thing. Images of jewelry, chocolate, or something cute and fluffy had me bounding from my room, down the stairs, and walking into our entryway where my mom held a thin rectangular wrapped package. That’s when she added the catch. “It’s from that nice neighbor boy, Stanley.”
Images of anything sweet or cute vanished from my mind as I thought of what Stanley might have given me. The guy was a total creep, and unfortunately for me, he lived next door. I’ve known him all my life. We’re the same age. I had to go to school with him. I watched him go from a weird short kid, to a tall skinny even weirder kid. A huge benefit of going to college in a month is that I won’t have to see him lurking at the window across from mine anymore. He’s the reason I keep my curtains permanently closed. I caught him peeping on me while changing once. I totally remember how his gaunt face was turned down, his eyes boring into me, making me feel so exposed. Yeah, I never gave him that opportunity ever again.
“Aren’t you going to open it?” my mom asked curiously.
I looked at the flat rectangular package my mom is holding. It’s wrapped in plain brown paper and is as tall as she is, not that that’s very tall. Then again, neither am I. Mom and I are the same height, same dark hair, same basic build, except with one major difference. She’s got a lot more in the chest department. That’s what having kids will do to you I suppose.
“Ugh,” I sighed as I approached the package like it was a bomb about to go off.
My mom chided my obvious apprehension. “Sweetie, don’t be like that. That boy went to the trouble of wrapping this and bringing it over to you. You should be grateful. And if it is what I think it is, you’ll need to go tell him thank you before the day is over.”
“Yeah, I don’t think so,” I muttered as I reached up to tear off a corner of the package. I was met with a smooth. Mom was right. “It’s a mirror alright.”
“He must have known you wanted one for your room! What a thoughtful young man.”
What a stalker, I thought. I talked on social media recently that I was looking for a full length mirror for my room. I’m not sure how Stanley knew though since I always block his attempts to follow or friend me. Apparently he snuck in using a made up profile. Wonderful.
I gripped the edges and told my mom, “I’ll go set it up in my room. Why don’t you go be the one to tell creepy neighbor boy thank you.”
My mom crossed her arms. “He’s been a perfect gentleman to you this past year,” she argued. “There’s no need to call him that.”
As I walked away I countered over my shoulder with, “I’m thinking of all the other times when he was trying to look down my shirt or up my dress or brush against me in the hallways or…” I trailed off, knowing mom would take his side. I’d told her about Stanley spying on me. We’d gone to confront him together, or so I thought. He'd apologized immediately when we showed up at his door. He looked so weak and pathetic that mom made ME apologize to him for changing in front of my window. I love my mom, but that memory still really pissed me off.
I marched into my room and tore the rest of the paper from the mirror, then set it up against the wall opposite my bed. It was actually a very nice mirror. I hoped it cost him a lot of money. Knowing him he probably got it for cheap from a thrift store or something and then installed cameras in it.
I instantly let my eyes dart around the edges looking for a little notch where a hidden camera might go. Thankfully I saw nothing but dark trim.
Convinced I wasn't being spied on, I took a moment to study my cute self in the mirror. I’m still rocking my dark hair in long braided pigtails. They’d been mom’s idea. She wanted to see me in them one last time before I leave next month. I think she’s gonna have a hard time cutting the cord when I go.
I gave my outfit an assessment. It’s my favorite green romper that hugs my slender frame and shows off my smooth pale legs. I’m not wearing a bra cause it’s a Saturday morning and I got nowhere to be. I smiled back at my round face, and I can’t help but think that I am a real cutie. I don’t consider myself a narcissist, but I’m proud of my body and the attention it gets. I’m currently single, but not for lack of boys trying.
That’s the problem though. They’re boys. I want a man, and I’m happy to wait till I’m in college in the fall. I’ll meet a tall handsome guy with sexy abs and rippling biceps and I’ll bring him home during break and maybe have him kick the shit out of the creepy neighbor boy.
A chill runs over me, interrupting my daydream. Something just seemed out of place in the mirror. My reflection was smiling. That should mean that I’m smiling too, but…I don’t think I’ve ever smiled in such a creepy way. It’s the kind of smile I’ve seen in horror movies, where the killer reveals a big terrible secret.
And then I watch dumbfounded as my reflection began to move. My hands reached up to my shoulders and pulled down the straps of my jumper. What?! No. No! I’m not doing this! I think. But then I felt the cool air of my room as it hit my bare skin. I don’t know how, but I am being made to mirror my own reflection! I watched in alarm as my mirror self brought my arms through the straps, which let the top half of my jumper fall down to my waist. There were my perky B cups. My nipples were stiff and pointy, exactly how they get when I’m turned on. But I’m not turned on right now. I’m confused and scared.
I felt like a marionette on a string as my reflection’s hands pushed my romper all the way down my legs, which made me do the same. I’m forced to straighten, and then I feel incredibly exposed as the eyes in the mirror move slowly over my body. I wasn’t completely naked. I still had on my pastel pink panties. They were my favorite pair, even though they rode up a little more than I’d like. I felt my lips curl up into a copy of the mischievous smile that stared back at me as I was made to grip the hem of those panties. I wasn’t forced to pull them down, but lifted them up. I felt the fabric slip deep between my buttcrack as I essentially gave myself a wedgie. Then my fingers reached back, and I began to grope my own ass.
I thought it might be over when my hand pulled away, but then it came back in a rush as I was forced to give my butt cheek a sharp smack. I wanted to scream in protest. I wanted to cry for help. To plead for my mom to come into my room and cut the invisible strings that were making me act out everything my reflection was doing. But I couldn’t make a sound. I could only smile. A smile that had become creepier and creepier until it resembled something malevolent. And then my legs began to move, slowly turning me away from the mirror.
I thought whatever was puppeteering me would stop when I couldn’t see my reflection anymore. I believed that once I couldn’t see my reflection’s horrific smile, my body would be under my own power again. I suppose in a way, I was both right, and wrong. As my eyes left the mirror’s edge, I saw nothing but an empty void beyond me. I suddenly found I had control again. I didn’t want to look back at that damned mirror, but there was nothing else to see. So I reluctantly looked, and there was my room. My bed. My reflection. Except, my reflection was facing away from me now. It was bending over and picking up my romper and getting dressed again.
But I wasn’t being made to do that. I was standing and staring at myself getting dressed WITHOUT doing it. And then I heard a voice. My own voice, but different somehow. It was like a recording of a recording, and tinged with malice that filled me with dread. It wasn’t coming from my side of the mirror. It was coming from the other side. The side that had a right and a left instead of an empty void. THAT side was the real word, and I had somehow gotten trapped on the mirror side.
“You have a lovely body, Cynthia,” my mirror self said as it turned back to face me. “Stanley said you would. I will enjoy using it to honor our deal I made with him. He’s been looking forward to getting his hands on your juicy ass and perky tits for quite some time.”
“No!” I shrieked from the mirror. I wanted to reach back into my world, to swap with whatever this thing that looked like me was, but my hands hit an invisible barrier. I watched helplessly as my mirror self went to the door, winked in my direction, and then disappeared. I learned then where reflections go when a person walks away from the mirror. Nowhere.
Part 2: Mirror Cynthia
The silent cries that only I could hear were instantly muffled the second I stepped out of the room. My absence would effectively put the girl on a pause of sorts, held in a temporal place between worlds while I took her body away from the object that had given me access to the human world once more.
It was good to be on this side of the mirror again, and in a body that was able to enjoy all the sensations that came with it. I walked purposefully down the stairs and stepped into a living room. The padded carpet felt divine under my bare feet.
A woman approached me with a tentative smile. My cloned memories told me she was the real Cynthia’s mother. “So, what did you think of the mirror sweetie?” she asked.
I placed a warm smile on my face to put her at ease. It’s not in my kind’s nature to tell the truth very often, but this time it dripped from my tongue. “It’s perfect, Mom. I’m going to go thank Stanley for it right now.”
The woman clasped her hands together and beamed at me in approval. “That’s really great, sweetie. It’s the right thing to do. Maybe this is the thing that will help you two end on a positive note before you head off to college.”
“I’m sure it will,” I said with a dark twinkle in my eye. “Goodbye, mother.” And then I was out the door, on my way to where my master was waiting.
I rang the doorbell of the house next door, and an auburn hair woman in her mid forties answered the door. She was a little chubby, but had a pretty face, and a very ample bosom. She seemed surprised by my appearance. I knew why. It’s because the real Cynthia had accused her son of spying on her.
“Hello, Mrs. Cooper,” I said with a sickly sweet tone. “Is Stanley in?”
She eyed me suspiciously. “He is, Cynthia. What’s this about?”
“He gave me a wonderful gift, and I was hoping I could thank him, and also…maybe mend some fences, if that’s alright?”
Her face softened, and then she began nodding cheerfully,like she was eager for her loner son to have a playdate. She walked from the entryway into the living room. I followed close behind. I surveyed the living room and saw Stanley’s father. He was a tall handsome man with more salt than pepper in his hair. He glanced up from his phone, and his eyes temporarily froze on my chest. My tits were poking out underneath the tight green romper. He’d noticed. He was thinking about them. About pinching them with a thumb and finger. About getting his mouth on them. I grinned at him, but he did not see. He only saw my perky tits.
“Stanley! You have a guest!”
This jolted Mr. Cooper out of his twisted fantasy. For a split second his eyes met mine, and I blew him a kiss. His face went very red, and his eyes snapped back to his phone. He did have to take a moment to adjust the tent in his pants though.
I turned at the sound of footsteps on the stairs. As soon as Stanley saw me, he acted as surprised as his mother had. He shouldn’t have been. I had told him exactly what would happen. He just hadn’t believed me. Probably because most humans struggle with believing anything that falls outside their traditional norms. Most refuse to believe my kind even exists these days. We are the stuff of superstition and fiction that are only spoken of in books and movies.
I can smell the human male from here. He probably hasn’t showered in a few days, and has just been marinating in that wrinkled black t-shirt he’s currently wearing. From the waist down he’s got on a dingy pair of light gray sweatpants. His unkempt hair, big round glasses, and the way he’s gawking at me would be enough to make most girls his age want to walk away. But I am not a girl. I only look like one. And it just so happens to be the one he wanted enough to sell his soul for.
“No way,” Stanley finally muttered as he began to walk around me. “Did it work?”
Mrs. Cooper frowned at her son. “Did what work? And stop staring at her like she’s a piece of meat, Stan. My word.” To me the woman said, “I do apologize, dear. I swear he lost all his manners when the hormones hit.”
I angled my body slightly so it accentuated my curves, then said while looking him right in the eye. “That’s okay. I don’t mind if he stares. I want him too actually.”
I wanted to laugh as Mrs. Cooper didn’t know what to make of that statement. She was looking between us, not understanding what was happening. Finally she decided she didn’t like it.
“Why don’t you both sit down in the living room, and I can bring you all out some snacks,” she offered, clearly trying to take control of the situation.
“I just need a moment in private with your son,” I said, and then bit my lower lip as my eyes dropped to Stan’s crotch. Sure enough, he had a bulge.
“Let’s go to my room,” Stanley said quickly.
Mrs. Cooper hesitated, clearly feeling the sudden sexual tension in the air. She countered with, “Okay, but, um, leave the door open at all times.”
“Mom!” Stan blustered. “I’m not a kid!”
Mrs. Cooper’s lips tightened across her face as her hands went to her hips. “That very well may be, young man. But you are still under our roof.” Her hands gestured towards his father. “And we make the rules. So that’s why any time you have a lady over, you keep the door to your room open when she’s inside.”
Still looking at his phone, Mr. Cooper said, “Stan’s never had a lady over before though so when did we make up that-”
“Shut up, Charles,” Mrs. Cooper said sharply, causing Mr. Cooper’s head to dip even lower into his phone. It was obvious who wore the pants in this family.
She regarded me and her son again, then gave a firm, “I’m afraid that’s how it is, kids. Take it or leave it.”
Stanley glared at his mom before saying an angsty, “Fine!”
He turned to walk away, but I darted ahead of him to the stairs and began to walk up them. I was several steps up when I looked back. He hadn’t moved. He was just staring up at my ass, which had been my goal. I gave him a wink, then continued on. I heard him rush up the stairs after me. He slowed when he got right behind me. I could feel his hot breath on my neck. He wanted so badly to touch me. He would soon get his chance.
I strode into his bedroom. Despite me assuring that I would soon be bringing a copy of the woman he’s been obsessing over, he had not bothered to tidy up. Smelly clothes littered the floor, along with a copious amount of wadded up tissues.
I pointed at the tissues and said, “Is there cum in those, Stanley?” I ran my hands down my sides like the thought was turning me on. “Did you jack off while thinking about this body?”
“It really worked?” he rasped. “You’re in her body?”
“No,” I corrected as I spun him so that his back was to his bed. “Her body is back in the mirror. This body is born of her reflection. It is now the vessel I will use to pay you back for freeing me. Now get your cock out.” With that, I pushed him onto his bed. While he awkwardly pulled his member free, I quickly shed my clothes, pulling the romper down.
Stanley obeyed, even as he looked at his open door and said, “What about my mom?”
As his hard cock came into view I gave him a sly grin. “Oh, I don’t think this will take too long, Stanley.” I crawled on top of him. He looked both excited and scared now. “Based on our previous conversations, I know how much you’ve built up this moment in your mind. I can assure you though, it’s not even close to how good I’m going to make you feel.”
“Oh,” he said in a faint whimper.
I positioned myself over his crotch. I lifted up his rigid cock, and sank my tight little pussy all the way down his shaft. He gasped as I knew he would. I began to bounce straightaway, not giving him time to process or to plead with me to slow down. All he could do was hold on as I gave him exactly what he wanted.
“Look at me, Stan,” I said, the wicked smile returning to my face as I began to rock back and forth on him. “I’m yours. This body belongs to you, and I’ll let you fuck me whenever you want. Because you freed me, master. You freed me.”
“Y-yeah,” he groaned. “I did. Y-you’re mine.”
I brought his hands up to my tits.” Go on, touch them. Touch me anywhere you want.”
Clammy hands began to grope me and squeeze me roughly. I didn’t mind at all. My kind thrive on pain.
The bedsprings were squeaking now, and the end of his bed began to smack loudly against his wall. After a few seconds he seemed to register the sound. “We have to be quiet,” he begged helplessly.
“Not till you cum, master,” I said, my smile stretching ever wider.
We both heard it then. A foot being placed loudly at the bottom of the stairs. Then another right after it.
“Stanley?” Mrs. Cooper called out.
“Shit! My mom!” he hissed, panic rising in his voice. He tried to move, to throw me off, but I held him fast with inhuman strength.
I tripled my pace. He looked so pathetic and desperate. It wouldn’t be long now.
More footsteps. Their pace quickened, hastened by the sound of someone fucking in this room. That’s right, someone’s fucking your precious little awkward pervert of a son, Mrs. Cooper. He’s about to give me a big load. If you hurry, you might get to see it.
“Stop,” he croaked. “She’s gonna…AW!”
Delicious heat flowed into me. After what seemed like a thousand years of cold and empty void, this heat shot up into the depths of me was a gift beyond measure. I put my hands around Stanley’s neck and I squeezed as my pussy did the same around his cock.
“What is going on in here!” Mrs. Cooper demanded two seconds later. She looked into the room and saw…me, fully clothed, sitting next to Stanley, who was also fully clothed. The woman did a double take. She seemed certain she was about to catch us doing something. Probably the thing we’d been doing 2.5 seconds ago. Thankfully for Stanley, my kind can move VERY fast when we need to.
I pointed to the yearbook that was open between my and Stanley’s lap. “We were just looking over the years together,” I said with an innocent smile and an innocent tilt of my head.
Stanley’s head was lolling, and it was clear he was trying to get his bearings. That made sense since he’d just cum, been lifted up in the air and slammed into his clothes and dropped back onto his bed in the span of 1.5 seconds. Under the yearbook, I gave his limp dick a playful squeeze. “You finally got good looking this past year,” I giggled.
He twitched, then looked at me, then at his mom. Finally he gave a squeaky, “Yup!”
His mom looked at the two of us like we were thieves caught red handed but had successfully destroyed the evidence. She pointed to just down the hall. “I’ll be right next door in my room if you need anything.”
She’d delivered that not as a fact, but as a threat.
“Sounds great, Mrs. Cooper,” I said, still as innocent as a dove while giving her son’s cock another squeeze.
“Actually, um, uh,” Stanley said as he tried to get control of the situation, “we’re about to head back downstairs.”
Mrs. Cooper seemed to take this as a victory. “Oh, good.” She suddenly became aware of the state of Stanley’s room. “Stanley, for the love of…please throw away your jerk off tissues.”
She’d said it to embarrass him. A little dig that was meant to shame and send me running for the hills. But I pressed down on his cock, which was already getting hard again and said, “I think it’s kind of hot.”
Mrs. Cooper leveled her gaze at me. “What did you just say, young lady?”
I returned her seething tone with a timid petulance. “I said I think they’re full of snot.”
My words rattled around in her brain as she tried to figure out what to believe. Finally she said, “Well, just clean them up, Stan.” With that she went off to her room.
I threw the yearbook onto his pillow and said, “What would you have me do now, master?”
Stanley’s smile split ear to ear. “I can’t believe this worked. Cynthia’s really, uh, I mean, you’re really mine now.”
“That was the deal, master. Provide me with a portal into your world along with a vessel you desired and were willing to sacrifice, and I would serve you using her likeness.” I wrapped my arms around his thin shoulders and brought my mouth to his ear. I just breathed for a few seconds. It felt good to breathe, and I let the hot sticky breath flow around his sensitive ear. “When will you want me again, master?” I asked. “Please tell me it’ll be soon.”
He looked nervously in the direction of his mother’s room. “Uh…well like I said when I made the deal with you, you’ll have to keep up appearances. No one can know that you’re not really Cynthia.”
“Of course not,” I lied, as I licked up the side of his face with my tongue.
He shuddered at the wet sensation against his cheek. I know if his mom weren’t in the room next to us, I could get him to fuck me again in no time.
“So…um, I guess right now, go back to your house and pretend to be the real Cynthia until I call you.”
Go back to the house. To where the mirror now resided. This was all going according to plan. “Of course, master.”
“And uh…” he said, sounding anxious.
I put a hand on his other cheek and spoke sweetly to him. “It’s okay, master. What else would you have me do?”
He blurted out quietly, “Always keep the curtains to your window open from now on.”
I grinned. “Master is such a pervert for this body. It makes my pussy so wet.” I leaned in and gave him a long, lingering kiss. “I can’t wait to feel your eyes on me as I undress, master. Please, don’t keep me waiting long.”
We walked back down the stairs. I was still warmed by Stan’s cum deposited inside of me. His father glanced up as I walked through the living room. His eyes went to my tits again, and then to my face. He saw I was watching him, and I blew him another kiss. This time he didn’t look away. He would no doubt think of me the next time he fucked his wife.
At the threshold of his house, away from his parents’ prying eyes, I let Stanley cup my ass and squeeze it as I told him, “My ‘parents’ are leaving early tomorrow morning for an outing the mother planned a few weeks back. I’ll be in the house all by myself.”
I watched Stan swallow at the open invite. “I gotta do some stuff for my dad in the morning, but I’ll come over as soon as I can.”
I gave his crotch a little pat and said, “See that you do.”
I left and went back home where my ‘mom’ wanted a full report.
“It was great,” I said with feigned sincerity. “Stan is a really great guy. I thanked him for the mirror, and even asked if he wanted to hang out tomorrow.”
My wife was over the moon about this. I gave her a hug, enjoying the sensation of her large boobs pressed against my smaller ones. And then I retired to my room.
The second I got there, the real Cynthia’s palms slammed against her side of the mirror. And then she was pressing her face up against it. “Let me out!” she demanded. “No one will believe that you’re me!”
I laughed wickedly, then put a finger to my chin and said sweetly, “Mom, I’m going over to Stanley’s. I want to thank him for the mirror by riding his hard cock. I bet I can make him cum in under a minute.”
The real Cynthia’s eyes grew wide as saucers. Her palm hit the other side of the mirror again. “You’re lying!”
I nodded as I began to take off the romper, slowly this time. I was in no hurry now. “That’s true. I didn’t tell your mom that I was going over to fuck the boy whose been obssessed with you all his life. But that is exactly what happened.”
I pushed the romper all the way down. I ran my hand down to the perfectly identical copy of the real Cynthia’s slit, and parted it with two fingers. A small bit of Stanley’s cum dribbled out.
The real Cynthia’s face twisted in disgust at seeing herself do something so perverted. She began shaking her head in denial while saying, “No…no. No you didn’t.”
“It’s a pity you didn’t get to enjoy it, but in a way I can help you enjoy sloppy seconds.
“Fuck you,” the real Cynthia spat, and she spit a glob of saliva that hit her side of the mirror.
“That’s precisely what I intend to do. My brothers, please, assist her.”
All of a sudden fear gripped the real Cynthia, as hundreds of invisible hands tightened around every inch of her skin. They moved her until she was positioned in a way that made her MY reflection. Her hand was down to her slit, her fingers parting her. And as I slid a finger in, so did she.
“Please, stop,” she begged.
I narrowed my eyes, and an invisible hand clamped over her mouth, silencing her protests. I began making her finger herself in time with me, pushing Stan’s cum deeper and deeper into my pussy as I did so.
“He wanted you so bad, Cynthia,” I moaned. “It was so easy to make him cum with your tight pussy. His mother heard us. She no longer thinks of you as the girl next door, but the slut that might ruin his future.”
The real Cynthia tried to shake her head, but couldn’t. All she could do was whimper and moan as I made her rub herself.
After a few minutes, I scooped up a finger of cum with a finger. I brought it to my mouth. The real Cynthia did the same. “Oh, I’m sorry,” I said. “I forgot, your cunt doesn’t have any of Stanley’s sweet cum. Here, I’ll share.” With that, I brought my cum laden finger to the mirror, making the real Cynthia do the same. When I withdrew it, the cum was now on her finger. I brought it to my mouth again, forcing her to mirror me. The invisible hand opened her mouth, and several more helped her push it onto her tongue so she could taste our master’s seed. I kept my finger in my mouth for a full minute so she would have to do the same, pushing it deeper, making her rub his cum all around her cheek and tongue.
Then I made her body writhe and contort while I played with her mirror self. I knew exactly how and where she liked to be touched, and I brought her right to the edge again and again.
“Cum with me, Cynthia,” I finally told her. “Let these bodies bask in the pleasure together..”
“Let me talk to Stanley!” she said with wasted breath. “Please! I’ll tell him I’m sorry! I’ll even let him sleep with the real me! Just have him get me out of here!”
I smiled, my teeth showing unnaturally sharp points. “I’ll let you talk to him tomorrow. If you cum with me, right now.”
The look she gave me then is something my kind live for. A moment of brokenness where a pathetic human gives in. After a conflicted second where she knew she didn’t have a choice, she allowed the pleasure to sweep over her, and climaxed with me. As she did, energy shot out from her side of the mirror, briefly revealing the thousands of my kind surrounding her. It was very lucky for her that her eyes were closed.
I released her afterwards. She wanted to keep whining and pleading with me, but she had nothing I wanted at present. So I put the blanket over the mirror, and enjoyed the silence as I lay away in bed, cumming over and over throughout the night.
In the morning, I went downstairs and fed this body in front of the parents. Not because I needed food, but for show. The mother reminded me that she was going out with the father and wouldn’t be back until evening. I did not care about the details. I just smiled, told her I’d miss them because that’s what she wanted to hear, and then went back upstairs. When they left, I called Stanley.
“Her parents are gone,” I said in a low, needy voice. “Come over. This body wants you to fuck it again. And the Cynthia that’s trapped in the mirror would like to speak with you. I would really like to see that as well.”
Stanley made excuses about having to do something for his father, but then would be right there. To pass the time, I threw off the blanket covering the mirror, and made the real Cynthia masturbate some more. I loved watching her face as I cum. The face I’ll see her make later though, will be exquisite.
I’m covered in a sheen of sweat when Stanley finally arrives. He walks into the room and I see the anxiousness etched on his face as he looks between me and the real Cynthia in the mirror. He had a real hand in trapping her there, and I’m curious as to what he’ll say.
I nod subtly, and my brothers inside the mirror plane let Cynthia go. She begins babbling immediately.
“Stanley, please, get me out of here. I’m sorry for telling on you for spying on me. I’m sorry for treating you like a leper at school. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. If you get me out of here, I’ll do whatever you want me to do.”
It’s a good pitch, and as she delivered it, I saw several different emotions run across the Stanley’s face . Sorrow. Anger. Despair. Hope. Frustration. Lust.
It’s that last one though that I use to stay in control. I pressed my naked, sweaty flesh against him and whispered into his ear, “You know that I’ll let you do whatever you want me as well, Stanley. But I’ll do it better than she can. Sluttier than she can. And I won’t be faking it. And I’ll do it all, every twisted kinky thing you want me to do, until the day you die.” I snaked a hand down his pants. My words, and perhaps my current slick and naked state, had already made him hard. “Let’s fuck in front of her,” I said in his ear, which caused him to shudder and his dick to twitch.
He let out a breath, then looked at the real Cynthia with cold eyes and said, “Sure thing.”
“Master is so naughty,” I said with a wink at the real Cynthia. “How do you want me master?”
“No!” the real Cynthia protested, but a second later, I’d muted her with a nod to my kind trapped on her side.
Stanley considered for a moment, then said, “Get on all fours and face the mirror.”
I knew I liked this human. “Yes, Master!” I said exuberantly. I got on all fours and put my ass in the air. I made eye contact with the real Cynthia, whose eyes were being held open so she didn’t miss a second of what was about to happen. “Oh yes master! Right there!” I exclaimed as Stanley suddenly penetrated me from behind. “I love it when you shove it in so deep that your balls slap against my ass.”
It was different than how I’d fucked him yesterday. He was very aggressive, trying to punish her through me. That only made it better. We both locked eyes on the woman he’d condemned to that side of the mirror. I made faces of exaggerated ecstasy while he looked at her with hate.
“Please, master,” I begged, my voice sounding as pitiful as the real Cynthia’s had earlier. “Slap my ass and tell me I belong to you!”
A sharp smack later and Stanley said, “You’re mine, Cynthia. All mine. Forever.”
“Oh thank you master!” I squealed. “It’s so totally true! I am all yours!”
The real Cynthia got to see Stanley cum in me first hand this time. I knew it was something she thought Stanley would never get to do in a hundred million years. Technically, he hadn’t. But as a perfect mirror image of her, he’d never be able to tell the difference.
I let him rest, then we fucked some more, all in front of the mirror. After a shower, he ate me out, we 69’d, I rode him, and finally I let him be on top. That was the only position I will try to keep to a minimum, because he is terrible at it.
Stanley’s mother called him on his phone after he’d been gone for four hours. He ignored it at first, but eventually answered. I overheard a terse back and forth where his mother demanded to know where he was, and he lied and said a friend’s, but she told him that his phone location was on and she knew exactly where he was. They yelled back and forth and the idiot actually called me his girlfriend. What a foolish human.
His mom responded with a very loud, “That slut is NOT your girlfriend.”
That prompted him to hang up the phone. I expected, no, HOPED that his mother would march over here and confront him. But she didn’t.
We ate, which again I did for show, and I gave him a couple of hours to recharge. We were lounging on his couch naked when Cynthia’s parents got home. Stanley went into full panic mode. He wanted to bolt out the back door. I slapped him in the face and said, “Follow me.”
He was stunned, but only for a second. Then he followed. I liked how easy this human was to manipulate. Sure, l call him ‘master,’ but he is not the one in control.
We’re upstairs and back in Cynthia’s room, just as her parents entered the front door. I pointed to the closet and said to Stanley, “Get in there and keep quiet.”
He did. It was a folding door with slats. It would allow Stanley a great view of everything that was about to transpire. I nodded towards my brothers in the mirror and said, “It’s time. Decide who will join me.”
The real Cynthia started to ask what I was talking about, but suddenly the invisible hands made her be my reflection again. In a flurried rush, I spun in place. All signs of sweat vanished and I smelled like I’d just stepped out of the shower. I put on cute pajamas that Cynthia’s mother had given her last Christmas. I looked at my ‘reflection,’ who appeared exactly the same as me. It’s not hard to manipulate the image when my kind has full control of what happens on that side of the mirror.
Footsteps could be heard, and I knew it was the mother coming to check on her baby girl. I arranged my face into an expression of delight that she’d returned home, which forced Cynthia to do the same. She looked as if she was happy to be on that side of the mirror. Only her eyes gave away the fact that something was wrong. That made sense, because the eyes are the window to the soul. I wondered if her mother would notice. She might. But by the time she does, it will be too late.
Part 3: Stanley
I noticed that Cynthia’s closet smelled really nice. Mine probably smelled like a garbage dump. It’s where I shove things I don’t wanna think about. Mom has been on my case to clean it, but I don’t see that happening anything soon. Cynthia, well, this new Cynthia, hadn’t complained about the smell of my clothes or my room. She’d jumped my bones without wrinkling her nose even once.
The clothes in the closet brushed against me. In the dim light I saw one was a fuzzy pink sweater. I’d seen her take that one off once. I’d seen her take off more than a few of these from the vantage point I had from my window into hers. I hated that the real Cynthia had caught me peeping on her that one time. She didn’t know I’d been doing it for quite some time. I’d even recorded some of them. I’m sure I could tell this version of Cynthia, who I now considered MY Cynthia. She wouldn’t care. She would probably think it was hot. She might ask to watch it with me while we fuck.
I gave a quiet laugh as my pervy thoughts had made me hard again. Despite how many times we’d had sex today, I was ready to go. Probably wouldn’t be able to though. Not with Cynthia’s mom and dad home. Plus I probably needed to get back to my own house, where my mom will no doubt read me the riot act for being out so late. She’s gotta learn that I’m not a kid anymore. I’m a grown man. I really should get a part time job so I can move out, but…I really don’t wanna.
If I can prove to them that Cynthia and I are together now, maybe they’ll let her move in with me. Oh, I could probably order MY Cynthia to get a job, what with me being her master and all. I love when she calls me that.
My thoughts are interrupted as Mrs. Duncan walks into the bedroom. In many ways she’s identical to her daughter. Same dark hair, same bone structure, and same pretty face. But Mrs. Duncanr was an inch taller. She wore her hair straight and it stopped at her shoulders. She’s a little thick around the middle, and her boobs are fucking awesome. Honestly, I wished Cynthia had her mom’s boobs. From my hiding place I saw Cynthia’s mom embrace her and nestle the side of Cynthia’s face right between those big milf tits. I was insanely jealous. Maybe if I got Cynthia pregnant she’d get those big boobs like her mother. Wait, could this version of Cynthia get pregnant? I mean…I’m very aware that she’s not exactly human, but…she certainly feels like it when I got my dick all up inside her tight pussy.
“Did you bring me home anything?” Cynthia asked sweetly.
Her mom laughed and said, “I always do, don’t I?”
“Ooh, what?” Cynthia asked.
“It’s a surprise. You’ll have to come downstairs and see.”
I sighed. I didn’t want Cynthia to leave the room. I wanted her to get her mom to leave, and then sneak me out. I should have just left earlier! Why had Cynthia banished me to the closet?
“One second, mom,” Cynthia continued. “First I have a surprise for you!”
Mrs. Duncan raised her eyebrows and looked around. “For me? What is it?”
Cynthia used a sweeping arm gesture towards the mirror. “It’s the chance to look at yourself in my new mirror!”
Mrs. Duncan laughed. “Oh, well, how thoughtful.” She tossed her dark hair dramatically as if she were a movie star, then went and stood dead center in front of the mirror. She struck a pose with her chest up, and her left leg out and bent slightly at the knee. “Yup, still got it.”
“You look so beautiful, mom,” Cynthia purred as she stole behind Mrs. Duncan.
From the slit in the closet, I could see that my Cynthia was talking to her ‘mom,’ but she was looking right at me. It’s like she was trying to get me to pay attention, like she was about to do something.
“Well thank you sweetie,” Mrs. Duncan said with a wide smile. “That’s very nice of you to say.” But the smile faltered on her face as the person she thought was her daughter put her hands around her middle, and very purposefully brought them up to her tits.
“I bet my master thinks you’re beautiful too,” Cynthia said sweetly in the woman’s ear. “And I think he’d like to fuck you.”
I could tell Mrs. Duncan wanted to say something, but she seemed to have lost the ability to speak. She seemed to kind of freeze up actually, but only for a moment. And then the smile was back on her face. But, no, it was a different kind of smile. It looked…unnatural.
Instead of pushing her daughter’s hands off her boobs, she brought her own hands up and helped her daughter squeeze them. Surely this was some kind of weird game that their family played. But when her mom spoke next, I knew I was wrong. Something had happened. Something that was making me rock hard.
With a happy sigh, Mrs. Duncan said, “I’d like that sweetie. I’d love nothing more than a chance to fuck that young man. He seemed like a real stud in bed.”
I’m not dumb. I could have been on the honor roll if I wanted, I just didn’t care about applying myself. But as smart as I am, I did not understand what was happening. I watched as both women turned to face the closet. Her mom held up a finger, and beckoned me to come out. How did she know I was here, unless…
“Come here, master,” Mrs. Duncan said. “Let me see if you’re interested in having full access to this body as well.”
She’d…she’d called me ‘master.’ I pushed the folding door open and stepped out. Both women looked down at my crotch.
Cynthia licked her lips and said, “It appears he likes you, ‘mom.’”
It was my turn to freeze as her mom approached me with eyes that made their intent very clear. She wanted me!
The middle aged woman suddenly moved so fast, getting right up in front of me. She grabbed my wrist and brought my hand up to her chest. She mashed my palm against it, and I felt my hand sink into the pillow softness of her boob. Simultaneously, Mrs. Duncan let out the sexiest, neediest moan I’ve ever heard.
Cynthia came up next to her while she cupped her own chest. “Mom’s boobs are so much bigger than mine. I bet your cock would fit perfectly between them, master.”
Her mom was suddenly pressing herself against me, her hot breath in my ear. “Would you like that, master? You want to fuck my big juicy tits?”
I stammered out a “Y-yes, ma’am.”
She laughed softly in my ear, then gave my earlobe a nip before she pulled away. “‘Ma’am.’ You’re funny, master. You can call me Joan, or Mrs. Duncan for now so we don’t give anything away. Later, when we don’t have to worry about interruptions, you can call me whatever you want.”
“Why…later?” I asked.
As if in answer, a male voice rang out through the house. “Joan, you’re coming back, right?”
Mrs. Duncan called back, “Be right there, dear!” She looked at me with a sly grin. “I’m afraid I’ll have to come back after I’ve put that human to bed. I’m afraid the original Joan promised him sex tonight.” She grabbed my crotch and gave my dick a squeeze. “Don’t worry though master, it won’t take long, not with how hard I’m about to fuck him. It’ll be the hottest sex he’s ever had.”
Cynthia gave her mom a firm smack on the butt. “Go get him, Momma. Call him Daddy when he’s inside you. Human males really like that.”
“Thanks for the tip,” she said as she put a hand on Cynthia’s cheek. Both women seemed to be side eyeing me. “You’re such a good, slutty daughter. How about a kiss?”
And then their lips met, and their mouths opened. I’d never seen a kiss with so much tongue. They started to grope each other’s chest. Mrs. Duncan even started to slip a hand down her daughter’s crotch when Cynthia stopped her.
“No, go and tend to the man downstairs. When you come back you can have as much of this body as you want, ‘mother.’”
Mrs. Duncan nodded, and then strode obediently from the room. Whatever was happening, Cynthia was clearly in charge.
I shut the bedroom door, because I had questions. But before I could ask any though, I heard a voice from the mirror.
“Where am I? What’s happening?” Mrs. Duncan cried.
“I’m here too, mom!” the real Cynthia shouted, her eyes darting wildly around.
I looked into the mirror and saw both women clearly, but for some reason, they couldn’t see each other.
As both trapped women began to talk to each other, the Cynthia on my side of the mirror draped a blanket over it, instantly silencing the conversation.
“As much as I might enjoy hearing them break, I think we’ll wait until ‘mother dearest’ is back,” she explained.
I asked my Cynthia, “So…what happened to Mrs. Duncan? Are you inside her now too?”
For an instant, my Cynthia looked at me like I was an idiot. But then she smiled and shook her head. “No, master. That’s one of my brethren. Another of my kind. He has taken on the role of the older woman now.”
“But…why?” I asked.
Cynthia pushed me onto the couch and knelt at my feet. She took my cock in her hand and stroked it lazily. “Do you not want that woman?”
“I do, but-”
“Isn’t it more convenient to have one of my kind take her place? Having a mirror version of ‘mom’ will make it so you can come over and fuck me whenever you’d like.”
“Well, whenever my mom will let me,” I corrected.
“I’m sure we’ll have plenty of opportunities,” she said with that unnerving smile she sometimes gave. “Now, how shall we spend this time we have until my ‘mom’ comes back?”
“Um…I suppose you could-”
But she took the words out of my mouth as she blew on the tip of my penis. And then she began to edge me with her mouth. I’ve never had blowjobs before this experience, but I’m pretty sure the creature from the mirrorverse gives the best ones in the history of ever. She brought me right up to the edge of climax again and again, but then stopped and let me get soft. The only time I almost blew my load was when I heard Mrs. Duncan moaning down the hall as her husband plowed her. I couldn’t hear everything she was saying, but it sounded like she was urging her husband to fuck her harder. To not care that their daughter was in the house.
I wondered if Mrs. Duncan, this mirror version of her, would talk that way to me? I know I for sure wanted to make her moan like that with MY dick. Maybe not tonight though. But sometime soon when Mr. Duncan wasn’t home.
“Ow!” I suddenly yelped as Cynthia gave my balls a sharp squeeze.
“You were about to cum, master,” she smiled. She licked her lips. Her tongue seemed so long, and…had it been forked? “I could smell it. But we wanna save it inside your balls, don’t we master. That way you can paint my momma’s pretty face with it soon. Will you do that for me, master? Will you shoot your jizz all over my sweet mother’s face? It’d be so hot.”
I saw that she was rubbing her pussy as she said all this. It was so fucking sexy. But still, my balls were my balls, and I didn’t like em squeezed. “Uh, sure, just, don’t be so rough with my balls.”
She smiled, and I’m not sure I believed her when she said, “Of course, master.”
It was about 10pm when Mrs. Duncan snuck back into the room. Her daughter’s mouth was still slobbering all over my junk and I had my eyes closed, so I didn’t know she was there until I heard the soft click of the latch on the door. I looked up and let out a low moan as I saw that she was completely naked.
My Cynthia quickly got to her feet and rushed to her mirror mother. I watched the horrified faces of the real Cynthia and Mrs. Duncan as their clones embraced one another and began kissing passionately. I took my cock into my own hands and stroked as I enjoyed the reuniting of this fake mother and daughter.
I could tell the real versions wanted to protest, but invisible hands had muted them.
My Cynthia’s hand went down to her mother’s slit and fingered her. She pulled up a glob of her father’s spunk. She put it into her mouth and sucked her finger clean, then said, “I think master would like you to have fresh pussy, mother. Allow me to help you with that.”
She looked at the mirror and said, “Let them move with us.”
At once the real versions of Cynthia and Mrs. Duncan were forced into the positions that their clones were in. For a split second I saw joy on their faces, because the real versions could suddenly see each other. But as the mirror clone of Cynthia sank to her knees, making the real Cynthia do the same, those looks shifted to fear and revulsion. And then my Cynthia put her mouth to her fake mother, and began licking out the cum Mr. Duncan had just deposited there.
I kept looking between what was happening in front of me, as well as what the real versions were being made to do. The mirror clone of Mrs. Duncan was groping her big tits now, forcing the real version to do the same. Mirror Cynthia brought her hands up to squeeze her fake mother’s ass, spreading her cheeks apart and running a finger up and down the crack.
I could have watched this for hours, but when my Cynthia had finished, she looked up and said, “All clean, Mommy. Daddy’s cum was super duper yummy.”
They both looked at me as Mrs. Duncan said, “Do you like your father’s cum better than our masters?”
“Oh no,” Cynthia said indignantly. “Master’s is truly the best. Why don’t you go see for yourself.”
And then Mrs. Duncan was on her knees and had my cock between her big boobs. She began sliding it up and down her cleavage while her daughter kissed her, then me, then her again. And I was not going to be able to take very much of this, especially when Mrs. Duncan began talking dirty.
“I want you to cum on these big tits, Stanley. I wanna feel your hot sticky jizz all over my skin. Mark me master! Mark my hot milf body!”
My cock twitched, and then erupted. My jizz landed on her face and chest. As it did, she shuddered and moaned like I’d just made HER cum. She let go of her tits and began scooping it up with her fingers and swallowed it as quick as she could.
“You were right, sweetie. It’s so yummy.”
“I told you,” Cynthia said, right before she put her mouth to her mom’s boobs and began helping herself to the cum I’d shot there.
After all the cum was off Mrs. Duncan, they both helped give my junk one last tongue bath, then helped me put my clothes back on. Needless to say, I was spent.
“Go home and rest,” Cynthia ordered. “Maybe eat something. You’ll need your stamina.”
“There’s so much more fucking we need to do,” Mrs. Duncan added.
I trudged home, which I was very glad was so close. I walked into the darkness of my living room, and heard a lamp click on. There was my mother. And she looked very pissed off.
“We pay your cell phone bill, Stanley. So when I call, I expect you to answer. I talked with your father, and I finally got him to agree that we’ve been to soft with you. Starting tomorrow, you’ve got a job working with your uncle as a roofer.”
All the joy I’d felt from today evaporated in an instant and was replaced with anger. “What? No! You can’t do that!”
“As long as you’re under our roof, you’ll live by our rules,” my mother said for like the millionth time. “Now go to bed. You’ll need to be up bright and early.”
I was about to storm off to my bedroom, when my Mom added, “Oh yes, give me your phone.”
“What? Why?!”
“Because if you can’t answer it, you don’t need it.”
She held out her hand and gave me that look that means if I don’t comply, she’s gonna find a way to make it even worse. I very begrudgingly took out my phone, and handed it to her. Then I stormed off. I briefly thought about checking in with Dad, who I assumed was already in bed, but apparently he’s with mom on this one.
Despite the anger I felt towards my new circumstance, I was able to fall asleep rather quickly. I guess that’s another perk of getting laid so many times.
Way, way too early, my mom woke me up. She made me eat breakfast, which is a meal I usually skip, and then my uncle picked me up for what would be a very long day.
I was made to do manual fucking labor. I had to carry stuff up a ladder, and move it here, and then move it there, and I felt like I got yelled at constantly and the whole thing just fucking sucked. And I had to do it for 8 hours. 8 HOURS!!! When my uncle finally told me we were done for the day, I wanted to spit in his face and tell him I never wanted to see him again. But I knew if I did, I’d probably be homeless that night. So I kept my internal rage to myself.
When my uncle pulled onto my street, I looked towards Cynthia’s house. I don’t care what Mom says, she can’t ban me from going over there.
I saw the front door open, and I sucked in a breath as my mom walked out the front door. Shit shit shit! What was that about?! And then a horrible thought crossed my mind. Mom had my phone. She’d had it all day. What if Cynthia sent me a text? Like one telling me to come over so I could fuck her brains out!
I watched my mom cross our yard. From this distance I couldn’t tell if she was mad. I’d planned on being extra pissy the second I got home, but now I just wanted to avoid her. I thought about going straight to Cynthia’s, but I saw her dad’s car was there. And I was aware of how very smelly I was after a grueling day of slave labor. There was also that avoiding my mom might make things worse. I resolved to check in and see what was what. Hopefully I’m just being paranoid. Maybe she’ll see how sweaty and tired I am and give me my phone back. Yeah, and maybe a million dollars will fall from the sky.
My paranoia seemed justified as I walked into my house. I could hear my mother washing dishes. Angrily. By that I mean water was loudly splashing in the sink and dishes were being loudly stacked one on top of each other on the counter. Despite the noise she was making, she still heard the door shut behind me. “Stanley Cornelius Cooper, get in here!”
Uh oh. My full name. Not a good start. I was on the defensive now, which meant I would remain quiet so as not to give Mom any extra ammunition to use against me. Innocent until proven guilty and all that. Except the way she was washing those dishes in the sink made it seem like she’d already decided on her verdict. The water sloshed about wildly in the sink as she moved her arms back and forth with a fervor in the sudsy water. Several times she created a wave that would splash up against the sides and soak the front of her shirt. She usually wore an apron when she did the dishes, but not today. Today she was wearing just a plain white shirt. I thought she had been wearing something purple when we ate breakfast? She must have changed after she worked out or something.
Suddenly she spoke, and the interrogation was underway. “Care to explain yourself?”
She didn’t turn to look at me. Just kept directly in front of the sink so she could wash, splash, and stack.
“What?!” I said, sharper than I meant to. Couldn’t help it. I was also pissed. “I worked with my uncle like you said I had to. I carried stuff up ladders. Got blisters. I was all fucking bullshit.”
“Language!” she snapped in a voice that normally would have made me back down. But I was just too angry.
“So sorry I said a bad word! I meant to say it was freaking terrible, and I hated it, and now I’m going to go upstairs to shower, and then go see my girlfriend!”
“I don’t think so, mister,” my mom said coldly. “I don’t think you’ll be going over there anytime soon. Not after the text message she sent to your phone a half hour ago.”
Suddenly I had a knot in my stomach.
“You want to know what that little hussy said? She asked where you were and how come you haven’t come over yet so she could drain your balls? Seriously, Stanley! This is not the kind of girl your father and I want you with!”
The knot tightened, and a hopelessness spread out to my limbs, making them tremble with dread. My mom would never accept a girl that talked like that. I hoped there wasn’t more, but mom was still talking.
“So I went over to confront your little girlfriend,” Mom continued. “Her mother answered the door. I showed her the text. To her credit, at least her mom had the decency to be embarrassed and apologetic. She told me things had been hard at home and that Cynthia was going through a phase. She invited me in, and took me upstairs so I could see a mirror in her daughter’s room.”
Surely I hadn’t heard that right. “Wh-what?” I croaked. “What did you just say?”
And that’s when Mom stopped washing dishes, and turned towards me. She put her hands on her hips, and pushed out her chest. The front of her white shirt was completely soaked. Like, it couldn’t get any wetter. And it was completely see through. And Mom…wasn’t wearing a bra. I could see her boobs, and her pink pointy nipples protruding from them.
“I said I looked into the mirror, Stanley,” she said, with an eerie smile that I’d seen on two other women last night.
No. This can’t be happening.
Mom gave a fake gasp and said mock indignation, “Gee, Stanley, is there something on my chest? You can’t seem to stop staring at it? Oh no, it’s my shirt, isn’t it! It’s so wet! I better just take it off.”
And then she lifted her shirt, and suddenly my mom was topless in front of me in my kitchen. Except…it wasn’t my mom. It was a thing that looked like her. Sounded like her. But it was not her.
“I can see why you like to stare though, sweetie. Mommy’s got a nice rack.” She pushed her boobs together and held them out to me. “Do you like them better than the milf’s next door? Please say you do, or you’ll make mommy so sad.”
No. No no no no no no no! When the shock finally wore off, I found my voice. “I didn’t give you permission to…to take her!” I yelled. “That’s my mom! Go back to the mirror and switch places with her right now!”
My mom’s face went from playful and seductive, to the most sinister thing I’ve ever seen. For a second, her face didn’t resemble anything human, but was like something from another world. An evil world.
When she spoke, I could still hear a bit of my mom’s voice, but tinged with something old and malevolent. “Say that again boy, and I’ll tear you limb from limb.”
I was so scared in that moment, that I pissed myself.
My mom, or the thing that looked like my mom, noticed the dark spot that spread out over my crotch. She suddenly looked like herself again and said, “Oh, did my baby have an accident? Let’s get you all cleaned up.”
I couldn’t move as she walked over to me. She scooped me up like I weighed nothing. She took me upstairs to the bathroom and stripped me bare. She got the water nice and hot in the bathtub, and then put me in and began to wash me like she used to when I was little. While she did she hummed a familiar tune, and looked at me with that expression of maternal love I’d always known from her.
The illusion was so perfect that I could almost really believe it was her. But I kept remembering that it wasn’t. The truth was that my mom was next door. Trapped in an evil mirror. And it was all my fault.
“Baby, don’t be sad?” she said as she saw my lower lip tremble. “I know what will make you feel better.”
And then she pushed my face into her bare chest, and said, “Go on. Suck on mom’s nipples like you did when you were little. That’ll calm you right down, baby.”
I was scared and broken now, and I automatically opened my mouth, and received what she slipped inside. It tasted like…home, and I began to suck greedily.
“Mm, that’s a good boy,” my mom said. “Oh my, it looks like someone’s popped up to say hello.”
I knew then that I’d gotten hard. I felt her hand, a hand that had patted me on the head lovingly so many times, reach down, and begin to stroke my cock that was sticking out of the water.
“You’e not my little boy anymore, are you baby. You’re my big man. Let momma show you how she takes care of her big man.”
She stroked me, and whispered lovingly in my ear, all while I sucked on her tits. Until I came.
“Oh there’s so much baby. I’m so proud of you. Such a good boy. Next time I hope your cum goes in mommy’s pussy. I bet you’d like that even more. Right?”
“Yes, mom,” I said blankly.
She made me stand up so she could towel me dry. Afterwards she said, “Now go downstairs, because we’re having company soon.”
I almost asked who, but I knew the answer. “Okay. I’ll…I’ll get some clothes on and-”
“No need, baby. Come down just you are. Such a handsome young man.”
All I could do was nod and say, “Okay.”
My mirror mom and I sat naked across from each other at our dining room table, waiting for our guests. After twenty minutes, and without so much as a knock, Cynthia and Mrs. Duncan entered the house. They were just as naked as we were.
My mom’s face tightened. She kept a smile on her face, but I could tell it was just a mask as she said, “He told me that I should go back into the mirror.”
Cynthia scowled at me for a second, but quickly softened her features. “That’s out of the question, ‘master.’”
The word ‘master' dripped from her lips with unveiled sarcasm, and I understood now that it was an empty title. I’d been used. This had all been a ruse so that the creatures on the other side of the mirror could escape to our plane of existence.
Cynthia came over to sit on my lap. She began stroking my hair as she said patiently, “When you summoned me with that arcane ritual, I gave you the instructions to make a portal for me to come through. I said if you did, I’d be able to become a perfect copy of anyone you wanted, and then I’d live to serve you. But I was very clear that once I replaced the original, we would never go back. Ever.”
I looked into the eyes of the girl I’d obsessed over for as long as I could remember. But the eyes that looked back at me had become soulless and black.
“I’ll serve you for as long as you live master. But that won’t be very long if you ever ask me or any of my kind to return to that place. Understand?”
I nodded slowly.
Cynthia smiled, and then the whites of her eyes and pupils returned. “Great! Now let’s celebrate! Who do you want first, master?”
My mom, Mrs. Duncan, and Cynthia all presented themselves to me by holding out their boobs.
As tempting as the sight was, I had a dreadful question I needed to ask. “Are there…more of you? Your kind, I mean? Are they coming through too?”
All three women nodded. I tried to choke down the panic I felt, but I couldn’t stop myself from hyperventilating.
My mom said, “Don’t worry ladies. I know how to handle this.”
She touched Cynthia’s arm, and the girl got off my lap. My mother took her place, straddling me. She began stroking my hair. “Yes, sweetie. More will come.”
“H-h-how many?” I asked.
She rocked on my lap, and I felt her slick pussy glide along the length of my dick as she gave me the bad news. “Thousands, sweetie. Thousands. They’ll become the people you know, and many people you don’t. This whole town will belong to us, and everyone in it will be willing to serve you.”
Just then my dad walked in the front door. We all looked at him, and in a panic I blurted, “Shit! Dad, this isn’t…I can explain!”
He grinned at me and said, “No need. I’ve already visited the mirror, ‘son.’” He began to take off all his clothes. “I was hoping though you’d let me have a turn with one of these ladies’ holes. Perhaps I could use your mother’s mouth while you fuck her from behind?”
“That sounds wonderful, darling,” my mom said as she climbed off my lap. My boner already missed her. I watched as she got on all fours and took my father into her mouth.
“Go ahead and fuck Mommy,” Cynthia urged with a smile. And then she began to eat out her own mother on the kitchen counter.
I obediently got down on my knees, and thrust into my mother from behind.
I heard her choke on dad’s cock for a second, then she looked back at me and said, “Mm, so big for mommy. Fuck me sweetie.”
I did. And as moans began to fill the room, Mrs. Cooper told me, “Cynthia invited her former cheerleading squad to a party at our house tomorrow, master. We’re going to have them all look in the mirror. And then we can have your former teachers. Anyone and everyone you’ve ever wanted to fuck or enslave, they’ll all be yours.
It’s everything I ever wanted. And all it cost me was everyone I ever held dear.
The end.
Part 1: Cynthia
“Cynthia! You have a present!”
As my mom’s voice rang through the house, I was initially excited. I mean, a present is a good thing. Images of jewelry, chocolate, or something cute and fluffy had me bounding from my room, down the stairs, and walking into our entryway where my mom held a thin rectangular wrapped package. That’s when she added the catch. “It’s from that nice neighbor boy, Stanley.”
Images of anything sweet or cute vanished from my mind as I thought of what Stanley might have given me. The guy was a total creep, and unfortunately for me, he lived next door. I’ve known him all my life. We’re the same age. I had to go to school with him. I watched him go from a weird short kid, to a tall skinny even weirder kid. A huge benefit of going to college in a month is that I won’t have to see him lurking at the window across from mine anymore. He’s the reason I keep my curtains permanently closed. I caught him peeping on me while changing once. I totally remember how his gaunt face was turned down, his eyes boring into me, making me feel so exposed. Yeah, I never gave him that opportunity ever again.
“Aren’t you going to open it?” my mom asked curiously.
I looked at the flat rectangular package my mom is holding. It’s wrapped in plain brown paper and is as tall as she is, not that that’s very tall. Then again, neither am I. Mom and I are the same height, same dark hair, same basic build, except with one major difference. She’s got a lot more in the chest department. That’s what having kids will do to you I suppose.
“Ugh,” I sighed as I approached the package like it was a bomb about to go off.
My mom chided my obvious apprehension. “Sweetie, don’t be like that. That boy went to the trouble of wrapping this and bringing it over to you. You should be grateful. And if it is what I think it is, you’ll need to go tell him thank you before the day is over.”
“Yeah, I don’t think so,” I muttered as I reached up to tear off a corner of the package. I was met with a smooth. Mom was right. “It’s a mirror alright.”
“He must have known you wanted one for your room! What a thoughtful young man.”
What a stalker, I thought. I talked on social media recently that I was looking for a full length mirror for my room. I’m not sure how Stanley knew though since I always block his attempts to follow or friend me. Apparently he snuck in using a made up profile. Wonderful.
I gripped the edges and told my mom, “I’ll go set it up in my room. Why don’t you go be the one to tell creepy neighbor boy thank you.”
My mom crossed her arms. “He’s been a perfect gentleman to you this past year,” she argued. “There’s no need to call him that.”
As I walked away I countered over my shoulder with, “I’m thinking of all the other times when he was trying to look down my shirt or up my dress or brush against me in the hallways or…” I trailed off, knowing mom would take his side. I’d told her about Stanley spying on me. We’d gone to confront him together, or so I thought. He'd apologized immediately when we showed up at his door. He looked so weak and pathetic that mom made ME apologize to him for changing in front of my window. I love my mom, but that memory still really pissed me off.
I marched into my room and tore the rest of the paper from the mirror, then set it up against the wall opposite my bed. It was actually a very nice mirror. I hoped it cost him a lot of money. Knowing him he probably got it for cheap from a thrift store or something and then installed cameras in it.
I instantly let my eyes dart around the edges looking for a little notch where a hidden camera might go. Thankfully I saw nothing but dark trim.
Convinced I wasn't being spied on, I took a moment to study my cute self in the mirror. I’m still rocking my dark hair in long braided pigtails. They’d been mom’s idea. She wanted to see me in them one last time before I leave next month. I think she’s gonna have a hard time cutting the cord when I go.
I gave my outfit an assessment. It’s my favorite green romper that hugs my slender frame and shows off my smooth pale legs. I’m not wearing a bra cause it’s a Saturday morning and I got nowhere to be. I smiled back at my round face, and I can’t help but think that I am a real cutie. I don’t consider myself a narcissist, but I’m proud of my body and the attention it gets. I’m currently single, but not for lack of boys trying.
That’s the problem though. They’re boys. I want a man, and I’m happy to wait till I’m in college in the fall. I’ll meet a tall handsome guy with sexy abs and rippling biceps and I’ll bring him home during break and maybe have him kick the shit out of the creepy neighbor boy.
A chill runs over me, interrupting my daydream. Something just seemed out of place in the mirror. My reflection was smiling. That should mean that I’m smiling too, but…I don’t think I’ve ever smiled in such a creepy way. It’s the kind of smile I’ve seen in horror movies, where the killer reveals a big terrible secret.
And then I watch dumbfounded as my reflection began to move. My hands reached up to my shoulders and pulled down the straps of my jumper. What?! No. No! I’m not doing this! I think. But then I felt the cool air of my room as it hit my bare skin. I don’t know how, but I am being made to mirror my own reflection! I watched in alarm as my mirror self brought my arms through the straps, which let the top half of my jumper fall down to my waist. There were my perky B cups. My nipples were stiff and pointy, exactly how they get when I’m turned on. But I’m not turned on right now. I’m confused and scared.
I felt like a marionette on a string as my reflection’s hands pushed my romper all the way down my legs, which made me do the same. I’m forced to straighten, and then I feel incredibly exposed as the eyes in the mirror move slowly over my body. I wasn’t completely naked. I still had on my pastel pink panties. They were my favorite pair, even though they rode up a little more than I’d like. I felt my lips curl up into a copy of the mischievous smile that stared back at me as I was made to grip the hem of those panties. I wasn’t forced to pull them down, but lifted them up. I felt the fabric slip deep between my buttcrack as I essentially gave myself a wedgie. Then my fingers reached back, and I began to grope my own ass.
I thought it might be over when my hand pulled away, but then it came back in a rush as I was forced to give my butt cheek a sharp smack. I wanted to scream in protest. I wanted to cry for help. To plead for my mom to come into my room and cut the invisible strings that were making me act out everything my reflection was doing. But I couldn’t make a sound. I could only smile. A smile that had become creepier and creepier until it resembled something malevolent. And then my legs began to move, slowly turning me away from the mirror.
I thought whatever was puppeteering me would stop when I couldn’t see my reflection anymore. I believed that once I couldn’t see my reflection’s horrific smile, my body would be under my own power again. I suppose in a way, I was both right, and wrong. As my eyes left the mirror’s edge, I saw nothing but an empty void beyond me. I suddenly found I had control again. I didn’t want to look back at that damned mirror, but there was nothing else to see. So I reluctantly looked, and there was my room. My bed. My reflection. Except, my reflection was facing away from me now. It was bending over and picking up my romper and getting dressed again.
But I wasn’t being made to do that. I was standing and staring at myself getting dressed WITHOUT doing it. And then I heard a voice. My own voice, but different somehow. It was like a recording of a recording, and tinged with malice that filled me with dread. It wasn’t coming from my side of the mirror. It was coming from the other side. The side that had a right and a left instead of an empty void. THAT side was the real word, and I had somehow gotten trapped on the mirror side.
“You have a lovely body, Cynthia,” my mirror self said as it turned back to face me. “Stanley said you would. I will enjoy using it to honor our deal I made with him. He’s been looking forward to getting his hands on your juicy ass and perky tits for quite some time.”
“No!” I shrieked from the mirror. I wanted to reach back into my world, to swap with whatever this thing that looked like me was, but my hands hit an invisible barrier. I watched helplessly as my mirror self went to the door, winked in my direction, and then disappeared. I learned then where reflections go when a person walks away from the mirror. Nowhere.
Part 2: Mirror Cynthia
The silent cries that only I could hear were instantly muffled the second I stepped out of the room. My absence would effectively put the girl on a pause of sorts, held in a temporal place between worlds while I took her body away from the object that had given me access to the human world once more.
It was good to be on this side of the mirror again, and in a body that was able to enjoy all the sensations that came with it. I walked purposefully down the stairs and stepped into a living room. The padded carpet felt divine under my bare feet.
A woman approached me with a tentative smile. My cloned memories told me she was the real Cynthia’s mother. “So, what did you think of the mirror sweetie?” she asked.
I placed a warm smile on my face to put her at ease. It’s not in my kind’s nature to tell the truth very often, but this time it dripped from my tongue. “It’s perfect, Mom. I’m going to go thank Stanley for it right now.”
The woman clasped her hands together and beamed at me in approval. “That’s really great, sweetie. It’s the right thing to do. Maybe this is the thing that will help you two end on a positive note before you head off to college.”
“I’m sure it will,” I said with a dark twinkle in my eye. “Goodbye, mother.” And then I was out the door, on my way to where my master was waiting.
I rang the doorbell of the house next door, and an auburn hair woman in her mid forties answered the door. She was a little chubby, but had a pretty face, and a very ample bosom. She seemed surprised by my appearance. I knew why. It’s because the real Cynthia had accused her son of spying on her.
“Hello, Mrs. Cooper,” I said with a sickly sweet tone. “Is Stanley in?”
She eyed me suspiciously. “He is, Cynthia. What’s this about?”
“He gave me a wonderful gift, and I was hoping I could thank him, and also…maybe mend some fences, if that’s alright?”
Her face softened, and then she began nodding cheerfully,like she was eager for her loner son to have a playdate. She walked from the entryway into the living room. I followed close behind. I surveyed the living room and saw Stanley’s father. He was a tall handsome man with more salt than pepper in his hair. He glanced up from his phone, and his eyes temporarily froze on my chest. My tits were poking out underneath the tight green romper. He’d noticed. He was thinking about them. About pinching them with a thumb and finger. About getting his mouth on them. I grinned at him, but he did not see. He only saw my perky tits.
“Stanley! You have a guest!”
This jolted Mr. Cooper out of his twisted fantasy. For a split second his eyes met mine, and I blew him a kiss. His face went very red, and his eyes snapped back to his phone. He did have to take a moment to adjust the tent in his pants though.
I turned at the sound of footsteps on the stairs. As soon as Stanley saw me, he acted as surprised as his mother had. He shouldn’t have been. I had told him exactly what would happen. He just hadn’t believed me. Probably because most humans struggle with believing anything that falls outside their traditional norms. Most refuse to believe my kind even exists these days. We are the stuff of superstition and fiction that are only spoken of in books and movies.
I can smell the human male from here. He probably hasn’t showered in a few days, and has just been marinating in that wrinkled black t-shirt he’s currently wearing. From the waist down he’s got on a dingy pair of light gray sweatpants. His unkempt hair, big round glasses, and the way he’s gawking at me would be enough to make most girls his age want to walk away. But I am not a girl. I only look like one. And it just so happens to be the one he wanted enough to sell his soul for.
“No way,” Stanley finally muttered as he began to walk around me. “Did it work?”
Mrs. Cooper frowned at her son. “Did what work? And stop staring at her like she’s a piece of meat, Stan. My word.” To me the woman said, “I do apologize, dear. I swear he lost all his manners when the hormones hit.”
I angled my body slightly so it accentuated my curves, then said while looking him right in the eye. “That’s okay. I don’t mind if he stares. I want him too actually.”
I wanted to laugh as Mrs. Cooper didn’t know what to make of that statement. She was looking between us, not understanding what was happening. Finally she decided she didn’t like it.
“Why don’t you both sit down in the living room, and I can bring you all out some snacks,” she offered, clearly trying to take control of the situation.
“I just need a moment in private with your son,” I said, and then bit my lower lip as my eyes dropped to Stan’s crotch. Sure enough, he had a bulge.
“Let’s go to my room,” Stanley said quickly.
Mrs. Cooper hesitated, clearly feeling the sudden sexual tension in the air. She countered with, “Okay, but, um, leave the door open at all times.”
“Mom!” Stan blustered. “I’m not a kid!”
Mrs. Cooper’s lips tightened across her face as her hands went to her hips. “That very well may be, young man. But you are still under our roof.” Her hands gestured towards his father. “And we make the rules. So that’s why any time you have a lady over, you keep the door to your room open when she’s inside.”
Still looking at his phone, Mr. Cooper said, “Stan’s never had a lady over before though so when did we make up that-”
“Shut up, Charles,” Mrs. Cooper said sharply, causing Mr. Cooper’s head to dip even lower into his phone. It was obvious who wore the pants in this family.
She regarded me and her son again, then gave a firm, “I’m afraid that’s how it is, kids. Take it or leave it.”
Stanley glared at his mom before saying an angsty, “Fine!”
He turned to walk away, but I darted ahead of him to the stairs and began to walk up them. I was several steps up when I looked back. He hadn’t moved. He was just staring up at my ass, which had been my goal. I gave him a wink, then continued on. I heard him rush up the stairs after me. He slowed when he got right behind me. I could feel his hot breath on my neck. He wanted so badly to touch me. He would soon get his chance.
I strode into his bedroom. Despite me assuring that I would soon be bringing a copy of the woman he’s been obsessing over, he had not bothered to tidy up. Smelly clothes littered the floor, along with a copious amount of wadded up tissues.
I pointed at the tissues and said, “Is there cum in those, Stanley?” I ran my hands down my sides like the thought was turning me on. “Did you jack off while thinking about this body?”
“It really worked?” he rasped. “You’re in her body?”
“No,” I corrected as I spun him so that his back was to his bed. “Her body is back in the mirror. This body is born of her reflection. It is now the vessel I will use to pay you back for freeing me. Now get your cock out.” With that, I pushed him onto his bed. While he awkwardly pulled his member free, I quickly shed my clothes, pulling the romper down.
Stanley obeyed, even as he looked at his open door and said, “What about my mom?”
As his hard cock came into view I gave him a sly grin. “Oh, I don’t think this will take too long, Stanley.” I crawled on top of him. He looked both excited and scared now. “Based on our previous conversations, I know how much you’ve built up this moment in your mind. I can assure you though, it’s not even close to how good I’m going to make you feel.”
“Oh,” he said in a faint whimper.
I positioned myself over his crotch. I lifted up his rigid cock, and sank my tight little pussy all the way down his shaft. He gasped as I knew he would. I began to bounce straightaway, not giving him time to process or to plead with me to slow down. All he could do was hold on as I gave him exactly what he wanted.
“Look at me, Stan,” I said, the wicked smile returning to my face as I began to rock back and forth on him. “I’m yours. This body belongs to you, and I’ll let you fuck me whenever you want. Because you freed me, master. You freed me.”
“Y-yeah,” he groaned. “I did. Y-you’re mine.”
I brought his hands up to my tits.” Go on, touch them. Touch me anywhere you want.”
Clammy hands began to grope me and squeeze me roughly. I didn’t mind at all. My kind thrive on pain.
The bedsprings were squeaking now, and the end of his bed began to smack loudly against his wall. After a few seconds he seemed to register the sound. “We have to be quiet,” he begged helplessly.
“Not till you cum, master,” I said, my smile stretching ever wider.
We both heard it then. A foot being placed loudly at the bottom of the stairs. Then another right after it.
“Stanley?” Mrs. Cooper called out.
“Shit! My mom!” he hissed, panic rising in his voice. He tried to move, to throw me off, but I held him fast with inhuman strength.
I tripled my pace. He looked so pathetic and desperate. It wouldn’t be long now.
More footsteps. Their pace quickened, hastened by the sound of someone fucking in this room. That’s right, someone’s fucking your precious little awkward pervert of a son, Mrs. Cooper. He’s about to give me a big load. If you hurry, you might get to see it.
“Stop,” he croaked. “She’s gonna…AW!”
Delicious heat flowed into me. After what seemed like a thousand years of cold and empty void, this heat shot up into the depths of me was a gift beyond measure. I put my hands around Stanley’s neck and I squeezed as my pussy did the same around his cock.
“What is going on in here!” Mrs. Cooper demanded two seconds later. She looked into the room and saw…me, fully clothed, sitting next to Stanley, who was also fully clothed. The woman did a double take. She seemed certain she was about to catch us doing something. Probably the thing we’d been doing 2.5 seconds ago. Thankfully for Stanley, my kind can move VERY fast when we need to.
I pointed to the yearbook that was open between my and Stanley’s lap. “We were just looking over the years together,” I said with an innocent smile and an innocent tilt of my head.
Stanley’s head was lolling, and it was clear he was trying to get his bearings. That made sense since he’d just cum, been lifted up in the air and slammed into his clothes and dropped back onto his bed in the span of 1.5 seconds. Under the yearbook, I gave his limp dick a playful squeeze. “You finally got good looking this past year,” I giggled.
He twitched, then looked at me, then at his mom. Finally he gave a squeaky, “Yup!”
His mom looked at the two of us like we were thieves caught red handed but had successfully destroyed the evidence. She pointed to just down the hall. “I’ll be right next door in my room if you need anything.”
She’d delivered that not as a fact, but as a threat.
“Sounds great, Mrs. Cooper,” I said, still as innocent as a dove while giving her son’s cock another squeeze.
“Actually, um, uh,” Stanley said as he tried to get control of the situation, “we’re about to head back downstairs.”
Mrs. Cooper seemed to take this as a victory. “Oh, good.” She suddenly became aware of the state of Stanley’s room. “Stanley, for the love of…please throw away your jerk off tissues.”
She’d said it to embarrass him. A little dig that was meant to shame and send me running for the hills. But I pressed down on his cock, which was already getting hard again and said, “I think it’s kind of hot.”
Mrs. Cooper leveled her gaze at me. “What did you just say, young lady?”
I returned her seething tone with a timid petulance. “I said I think they’re full of snot.”
My words rattled around in her brain as she tried to figure out what to believe. Finally she said, “Well, just clean them up, Stan.” With that she went off to her room.
I threw the yearbook onto his pillow and said, “What would you have me do now, master?”
Stanley’s smile split ear to ear. “I can’t believe this worked. Cynthia’s really, uh, I mean, you’re really mine now.”
“That was the deal, master. Provide me with a portal into your world along with a vessel you desired and were willing to sacrifice, and I would serve you using her likeness.” I wrapped my arms around his thin shoulders and brought my mouth to his ear. I just breathed for a few seconds. It felt good to breathe, and I let the hot sticky breath flow around his sensitive ear. “When will you want me again, master?” I asked. “Please tell me it’ll be soon.”
He looked nervously in the direction of his mother’s room. “Uh…well like I said when I made the deal with you, you’ll have to keep up appearances. No one can know that you’re not really Cynthia.”
“Of course not,” I lied, as I licked up the side of his face with my tongue.
He shuddered at the wet sensation against his cheek. I know if his mom weren’t in the room next to us, I could get him to fuck me again in no time.
“So…um, I guess right now, go back to your house and pretend to be the real Cynthia until I call you.”
Go back to the house. To where the mirror now resided. This was all going according to plan. “Of course, master.”
“And uh…” he said, sounding anxious.
I put a hand on his other cheek and spoke sweetly to him. “It’s okay, master. What else would you have me do?”
He blurted out quietly, “Always keep the curtains to your window open from now on.”
I grinned. “Master is such a pervert for this body. It makes my pussy so wet.” I leaned in and gave him a long, lingering kiss. “I can’t wait to feel your eyes on me as I undress, master. Please, don’t keep me waiting long.”
We walked back down the stairs. I was still warmed by Stan’s cum deposited inside of me. His father glanced up as I walked through the living room. His eyes went to my tits again, and then to my face. He saw I was watching him, and I blew him another kiss. This time he didn’t look away. He would no doubt think of me the next time he fucked his wife.
At the threshold of his house, away from his parents’ prying eyes, I let Stanley cup my ass and squeeze it as I told him, “My ‘parents’ are leaving early tomorrow morning for an outing the mother planned a few weeks back. I’ll be in the house all by myself.”
I watched Stan swallow at the open invite. “I gotta do some stuff for my dad in the morning, but I’ll come over as soon as I can.”
I gave his crotch a little pat and said, “See that you do.”
I left and went back home where my ‘mom’ wanted a full report.
“It was great,” I said with feigned sincerity. “Stan is a really great guy. I thanked him for the mirror, and even asked if he wanted to hang out tomorrow.”
My wife was over the moon about this. I gave her a hug, enjoying the sensation of her large boobs pressed against my smaller ones. And then I retired to my room.
The second I got there, the real Cynthia’s palms slammed against her side of the mirror. And then she was pressing her face up against it. “Let me out!” she demanded. “No one will believe that you’re me!”
I laughed wickedly, then put a finger to my chin and said sweetly, “Mom, I’m going over to Stanley’s. I want to thank him for the mirror by riding his hard cock. I bet I can make him cum in under a minute.”
The real Cynthia’s eyes grew wide as saucers. Her palm hit the other side of the mirror again. “You’re lying!”
I nodded as I began to take off the romper, slowly this time. I was in no hurry now. “That’s true. I didn’t tell your mom that I was going over to fuck the boy whose been obssessed with you all his life. But that is exactly what happened.”
I pushed the romper all the way down. I ran my hand down to the perfectly identical copy of the real Cynthia’s slit, and parted it with two fingers. A small bit of Stanley’s cum dribbled out.
The real Cynthia’s face twisted in disgust at seeing herself do something so perverted. She began shaking her head in denial while saying, “No…no. No you didn’t.”
“It’s a pity you didn’t get to enjoy it, but in a way I can help you enjoy sloppy seconds.
“Fuck you,” the real Cynthia spat, and she spit a glob of saliva that hit her side of the mirror.
“That’s precisely what I intend to do. My brothers, please, assist her.”
All of a sudden fear gripped the real Cynthia, as hundreds of invisible hands tightened around every inch of her skin. They moved her until she was positioned in a way that made her MY reflection. Her hand was down to her slit, her fingers parting her. And as I slid a finger in, so did she.
“Please, stop,” she begged.
I narrowed my eyes, and an invisible hand clamped over her mouth, silencing her protests. I began making her finger herself in time with me, pushing Stan’s cum deeper and deeper into my pussy as I did so.
“He wanted you so bad, Cynthia,” I moaned. “It was so easy to make him cum with your tight pussy. His mother heard us. She no longer thinks of you as the girl next door, but the slut that might ruin his future.”
The real Cynthia tried to shake her head, but couldn’t. All she could do was whimper and moan as I made her rub herself.
After a few minutes, I scooped up a finger of cum with a finger. I brought it to my mouth. The real Cynthia did the same. “Oh, I’m sorry,” I said. “I forgot, your cunt doesn’t have any of Stanley’s sweet cum. Here, I’ll share.” With that, I brought my cum laden finger to the mirror, making the real Cynthia do the same. When I withdrew it, the cum was now on her finger. I brought it to my mouth again, forcing her to mirror me. The invisible hand opened her mouth, and several more helped her push it onto her tongue so she could taste our master’s seed. I kept my finger in my mouth for a full minute so she would have to do the same, pushing it deeper, making her rub his cum all around her cheek and tongue.
Then I made her body writhe and contort while I played with her mirror self. I knew exactly how and where she liked to be touched, and I brought her right to the edge again and again.
“Cum with me, Cynthia,” I finally told her. “Let these bodies bask in the pleasure together..”
“Let me talk to Stanley!” she said with wasted breath. “Please! I’ll tell him I’m sorry! I’ll even let him sleep with the real me! Just have him get me out of here!”
I smiled, my teeth showing unnaturally sharp points. “I’ll let you talk to him tomorrow. If you cum with me, right now.”
The look she gave me then is something my kind live for. A moment of brokenness where a pathetic human gives in. After a conflicted second where she knew she didn’t have a choice, she allowed the pleasure to sweep over her, and climaxed with me. As she did, energy shot out from her side of the mirror, briefly revealing the thousands of my kind surrounding her. It was very lucky for her that her eyes were closed.
I released her afterwards. She wanted to keep whining and pleading with me, but she had nothing I wanted at present. So I put the blanket over the mirror, and enjoyed the silence as I lay away in bed, cumming over and over throughout the night.
In the morning, I went downstairs and fed this body in front of the parents. Not because I needed food, but for show. The mother reminded me that she was going out with the father and wouldn’t be back until evening. I did not care about the details. I just smiled, told her I’d miss them because that’s what she wanted to hear, and then went back upstairs. When they left, I called Stanley.
“Her parents are gone,” I said in a low, needy voice. “Come over. This body wants you to fuck it again. And the Cynthia that’s trapped in the mirror would like to speak with you. I would really like to see that as well.”
Stanley made excuses about having to do something for his father, but then would be right there. To pass the time, I threw off the blanket covering the mirror, and made the real Cynthia masturbate some more. I loved watching her face as I cum. The face I’ll see her make later though, will be exquisite.
I’m covered in a sheen of sweat when Stanley finally arrives. He walks into the room and I see the anxiousness etched on his face as he looks between me and the real Cynthia in the mirror. He had a real hand in trapping her there, and I’m curious as to what he’ll say.
I nod subtly, and my brothers inside the mirror plane let Cynthia go. She begins babbling immediately.
“Stanley, please, get me out of here. I’m sorry for telling on you for spying on me. I’m sorry for treating you like a leper at school. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. If you get me out of here, I’ll do whatever you want me to do.”
It’s a good pitch, and as she delivered it, I saw several different emotions run across the Stanley’s face . Sorrow. Anger. Despair. Hope. Frustration. Lust.
It’s that last one though that I use to stay in control. I pressed my naked, sweaty flesh against him and whispered into his ear, “You know that I’ll let you do whatever you want me as well, Stanley. But I’ll do it better than she can. Sluttier than she can. And I won’t be faking it. And I’ll do it all, every twisted kinky thing you want me to do, until the day you die.” I snaked a hand down his pants. My words, and perhaps my current slick and naked state, had already made him hard. “Let’s fuck in front of her,” I said in his ear, which caused him to shudder and his dick to twitch.
He let out a breath, then looked at the real Cynthia with cold eyes and said, “Sure thing.”
“Master is so naughty,” I said with a wink at the real Cynthia. “How do you want me master?”
“No!” the real Cynthia protested, but a second later, I’d muted her with a nod to my kind trapped on her side.
Stanley considered for a moment, then said, “Get on all fours and face the mirror.”
I knew I liked this human. “Yes, Master!” I said exuberantly. I got on all fours and put my ass in the air. I made eye contact with the real Cynthia, whose eyes were being held open so she didn’t miss a second of what was about to happen. “Oh yes master! Right there!” I exclaimed as Stanley suddenly penetrated me from behind. “I love it when you shove it in so deep that your balls slap against my ass.”
It was different than how I’d fucked him yesterday. He was very aggressive, trying to punish her through me. That only made it better. We both locked eyes on the woman he’d condemned to that side of the mirror. I made faces of exaggerated ecstasy while he looked at her with hate.
“Please, master,” I begged, my voice sounding as pitiful as the real Cynthia’s had earlier. “Slap my ass and tell me I belong to you!”
A sharp smack later and Stanley said, “You’re mine, Cynthia. All mine. Forever.”
“Oh thank you master!” I squealed. “It’s so totally true! I am all yours!”
The real Cynthia got to see Stanley cum in me first hand this time. I knew it was something she thought Stanley would never get to do in a hundred million years. Technically, he hadn’t. But as a perfect mirror image of her, he’d never be able to tell the difference.
I let him rest, then we fucked some more, all in front of the mirror. After a shower, he ate me out, we 69’d, I rode him, and finally I let him be on top. That was the only position I will try to keep to a minimum, because he is terrible at it.
Stanley’s mother called him on his phone after he’d been gone for four hours. He ignored it at first, but eventually answered. I overheard a terse back and forth where his mother demanded to know where he was, and he lied and said a friend’s, but she told him that his phone location was on and she knew exactly where he was. They yelled back and forth and the idiot actually called me his girlfriend. What a foolish human.
His mom responded with a very loud, “That slut is NOT your girlfriend.”
That prompted him to hang up the phone. I expected, no, HOPED that his mother would march over here and confront him. But she didn’t.
We ate, which again I did for show, and I gave him a couple of hours to recharge. We were lounging on his couch naked when Cynthia’s parents got home. Stanley went into full panic mode. He wanted to bolt out the back door. I slapped him in the face and said, “Follow me.”
He was stunned, but only for a second. Then he followed. I liked how easy this human was to manipulate. Sure, l call him ‘master,’ but he is not the one in control.
We’re upstairs and back in Cynthia’s room, just as her parents entered the front door. I pointed to the closet and said to Stanley, “Get in there and keep quiet.”
He did. It was a folding door with slats. It would allow Stanley a great view of everything that was about to transpire. I nodded towards my brothers in the mirror and said, “It’s time. Decide who will join me.”
The real Cynthia started to ask what I was talking about, but suddenly the invisible hands made her be my reflection again. In a flurried rush, I spun in place. All signs of sweat vanished and I smelled like I’d just stepped out of the shower. I put on cute pajamas that Cynthia’s mother had given her last Christmas. I looked at my ‘reflection,’ who appeared exactly the same as me. It’s not hard to manipulate the image when my kind has full control of what happens on that side of the mirror.
Footsteps could be heard, and I knew it was the mother coming to check on her baby girl. I arranged my face into an expression of delight that she’d returned home, which forced Cynthia to do the same. She looked as if she was happy to be on that side of the mirror. Only her eyes gave away the fact that something was wrong. That made sense, because the eyes are the window to the soul. I wondered if her mother would notice. She might. But by the time she does, it will be too late.
Part 3: Stanley
I noticed that Cynthia’s closet smelled really nice. Mine probably smelled like a garbage dump. It’s where I shove things I don’t wanna think about. Mom has been on my case to clean it, but I don’t see that happening anything soon. Cynthia, well, this new Cynthia, hadn’t complained about the smell of my clothes or my room. She’d jumped my bones without wrinkling her nose even once.
The clothes in the closet brushed against me. In the dim light I saw one was a fuzzy pink sweater. I’d seen her take that one off once. I’d seen her take off more than a few of these from the vantage point I had from my window into hers. I hated that the real Cynthia had caught me peeping on her that one time. She didn’t know I’d been doing it for quite some time. I’d even recorded some of them. I’m sure I could tell this version of Cynthia, who I now considered MY Cynthia. She wouldn’t care. She would probably think it was hot. She might ask to watch it with me while we fuck.
I gave a quiet laugh as my pervy thoughts had made me hard again. Despite how many times we’d had sex today, I was ready to go. Probably wouldn’t be able to though. Not with Cynthia’s mom and dad home. Plus I probably needed to get back to my own house, where my mom will no doubt read me the riot act for being out so late. She’s gotta learn that I’m not a kid anymore. I’m a grown man. I really should get a part time job so I can move out, but…I really don’t wanna.
If I can prove to them that Cynthia and I are together now, maybe they’ll let her move in with me. Oh, I could probably order MY Cynthia to get a job, what with me being her master and all. I love when she calls me that.
My thoughts are interrupted as Mrs. Duncan walks into the bedroom. In many ways she’s identical to her daughter. Same dark hair, same bone structure, and same pretty face. But Mrs. Duncanr was an inch taller. She wore her hair straight and it stopped at her shoulders. She’s a little thick around the middle, and her boobs are fucking awesome. Honestly, I wished Cynthia had her mom’s boobs. From my hiding place I saw Cynthia’s mom embrace her and nestle the side of Cynthia’s face right between those big milf tits. I was insanely jealous. Maybe if I got Cynthia pregnant she’d get those big boobs like her mother. Wait, could this version of Cynthia get pregnant? I mean…I’m very aware that she’s not exactly human, but…she certainly feels like it when I got my dick all up inside her tight pussy.
“Did you bring me home anything?” Cynthia asked sweetly.
Her mom laughed and said, “I always do, don’t I?”
“Ooh, what?” Cynthia asked.
“It’s a surprise. You’ll have to come downstairs and see.”
I sighed. I didn’t want Cynthia to leave the room. I wanted her to get her mom to leave, and then sneak me out. I should have just left earlier! Why had Cynthia banished me to the closet?
“One second, mom,” Cynthia continued. “First I have a surprise for you!”
Mrs. Duncan raised her eyebrows and looked around. “For me? What is it?”
Cynthia used a sweeping arm gesture towards the mirror. “It’s the chance to look at yourself in my new mirror!”
Mrs. Duncan laughed. “Oh, well, how thoughtful.” She tossed her dark hair dramatically as if she were a movie star, then went and stood dead center in front of the mirror. She struck a pose with her chest up, and her left leg out and bent slightly at the knee. “Yup, still got it.”
“You look so beautiful, mom,” Cynthia purred as she stole behind Mrs. Duncan.
From the slit in the closet, I could see that my Cynthia was talking to her ‘mom,’ but she was looking right at me. It’s like she was trying to get me to pay attention, like she was about to do something.
“Well thank you sweetie,” Mrs. Duncan said with a wide smile. “That’s very nice of you to say.” But the smile faltered on her face as the person she thought was her daughter put her hands around her middle, and very purposefully brought them up to her tits.
“I bet my master thinks you’re beautiful too,” Cynthia said sweetly in the woman’s ear. “And I think he’d like to fuck you.”
I could tell Mrs. Duncan wanted to say something, but she seemed to have lost the ability to speak. She seemed to kind of freeze up actually, but only for a moment. And then the smile was back on her face. But, no, it was a different kind of smile. It looked…unnatural.
Instead of pushing her daughter’s hands off her boobs, she brought her own hands up and helped her daughter squeeze them. Surely this was some kind of weird game that their family played. But when her mom spoke next, I knew I was wrong. Something had happened. Something that was making me rock hard.
With a happy sigh, Mrs. Duncan said, “I’d like that sweetie. I’d love nothing more than a chance to fuck that young man. He seemed like a real stud in bed.”
I’m not dumb. I could have been on the honor roll if I wanted, I just didn’t care about applying myself. But as smart as I am, I did not understand what was happening. I watched as both women turned to face the closet. Her mom held up a finger, and beckoned me to come out. How did she know I was here, unless…
“Come here, master,” Mrs. Duncan said. “Let me see if you’re interested in having full access to this body as well.”
She’d…she’d called me ‘master.’ I pushed the folding door open and stepped out. Both women looked down at my crotch.
Cynthia licked her lips and said, “It appears he likes you, ‘mom.’”
It was my turn to freeze as her mom approached me with eyes that made their intent very clear. She wanted me!
The middle aged woman suddenly moved so fast, getting right up in front of me. She grabbed my wrist and brought my hand up to her chest. She mashed my palm against it, and I felt my hand sink into the pillow softness of her boob. Simultaneously, Mrs. Duncan let out the sexiest, neediest moan I’ve ever heard.
Cynthia came up next to her while she cupped her own chest. “Mom’s boobs are so much bigger than mine. I bet your cock would fit perfectly between them, master.”
Her mom was suddenly pressing herself against me, her hot breath in my ear. “Would you like that, master? You want to fuck my big juicy tits?”
I stammered out a “Y-yes, ma’am.”
She laughed softly in my ear, then gave my earlobe a nip before she pulled away. “‘Ma’am.’ You’re funny, master. You can call me Joan, or Mrs. Duncan for now so we don’t give anything away. Later, when we don’t have to worry about interruptions, you can call me whatever you want.”
“Why…later?” I asked.
As if in answer, a male voice rang out through the house. “Joan, you’re coming back, right?”
Mrs. Duncan called back, “Be right there, dear!” She looked at me with a sly grin. “I’m afraid I’ll have to come back after I’ve put that human to bed. I’m afraid the original Joan promised him sex tonight.” She grabbed my crotch and gave my dick a squeeze. “Don’t worry though master, it won’t take long, not with how hard I’m about to fuck him. It’ll be the hottest sex he’s ever had.”
Cynthia gave her mom a firm smack on the butt. “Go get him, Momma. Call him Daddy when he’s inside you. Human males really like that.”
“Thanks for the tip,” she said as she put a hand on Cynthia’s cheek. Both women seemed to be side eyeing me. “You’re such a good, slutty daughter. How about a kiss?”
And then their lips met, and their mouths opened. I’d never seen a kiss with so much tongue. They started to grope each other’s chest. Mrs. Duncan even started to slip a hand down her daughter’s crotch when Cynthia stopped her.
“No, go and tend to the man downstairs. When you come back you can have as much of this body as you want, ‘mother.’”
Mrs. Duncan nodded, and then strode obediently from the room. Whatever was happening, Cynthia was clearly in charge.
I shut the bedroom door, because I had questions. But before I could ask any though, I heard a voice from the mirror.
“Where am I? What’s happening?” Mrs. Duncan cried.
“I’m here too, mom!” the real Cynthia shouted, her eyes darting wildly around.
I looked into the mirror and saw both women clearly, but for some reason, they couldn’t see each other.
As both trapped women began to talk to each other, the Cynthia on my side of the mirror draped a blanket over it, instantly silencing the conversation.
“As much as I might enjoy hearing them break, I think we’ll wait until ‘mother dearest’ is back,” she explained.
I asked my Cynthia, “So…what happened to Mrs. Duncan? Are you inside her now too?”
For an instant, my Cynthia looked at me like I was an idiot. But then she smiled and shook her head. “No, master. That’s one of my brethren. Another of my kind. He has taken on the role of the older woman now.”
“But…why?” I asked.
Cynthia pushed me onto the couch and knelt at my feet. She took my cock in her hand and stroked it lazily. “Do you not want that woman?”
“I do, but-”
“Isn’t it more convenient to have one of my kind take her place? Having a mirror version of ‘mom’ will make it so you can come over and fuck me whenever you’d like.”
“Well, whenever my mom will let me,” I corrected.
“I’m sure we’ll have plenty of opportunities,” she said with that unnerving smile she sometimes gave. “Now, how shall we spend this time we have until my ‘mom’ comes back?”
“Um…I suppose you could-”
But she took the words out of my mouth as she blew on the tip of my penis. And then she began to edge me with her mouth. I’ve never had blowjobs before this experience, but I’m pretty sure the creature from the mirrorverse gives the best ones in the history of ever. She brought me right up to the edge of climax again and again, but then stopped and let me get soft. The only time I almost blew my load was when I heard Mrs. Duncan moaning down the hall as her husband plowed her. I couldn’t hear everything she was saying, but it sounded like she was urging her husband to fuck her harder. To not care that their daughter was in the house.
I wondered if Mrs. Duncan, this mirror version of her, would talk that way to me? I know I for sure wanted to make her moan like that with MY dick. Maybe not tonight though. But sometime soon when Mr. Duncan wasn’t home.
“Ow!” I suddenly yelped as Cynthia gave my balls a sharp squeeze.
“You were about to cum, master,” she smiled. She licked her lips. Her tongue seemed so long, and…had it been forked? “I could smell it. But we wanna save it inside your balls, don’t we master. That way you can paint my momma’s pretty face with it soon. Will you do that for me, master? Will you shoot your jizz all over my sweet mother’s face? It’d be so hot.”
I saw that she was rubbing her pussy as she said all this. It was so fucking sexy. But still, my balls were my balls, and I didn’t like em squeezed. “Uh, sure, just, don’t be so rough with my balls.”
She smiled, and I’m not sure I believed her when she said, “Of course, master.”
It was about 10pm when Mrs. Duncan snuck back into the room. Her daughter’s mouth was still slobbering all over my junk and I had my eyes closed, so I didn’t know she was there until I heard the soft click of the latch on the door. I looked up and let out a low moan as I saw that she was completely naked.
My Cynthia quickly got to her feet and rushed to her mirror mother. I watched the horrified faces of the real Cynthia and Mrs. Duncan as their clones embraced one another and began kissing passionately. I took my cock into my own hands and stroked as I enjoyed the reuniting of this fake mother and daughter.
I could tell the real versions wanted to protest, but invisible hands had muted them.
My Cynthia’s hand went down to her mother’s slit and fingered her. She pulled up a glob of her father’s spunk. She put it into her mouth and sucked her finger clean, then said, “I think master would like you to have fresh pussy, mother. Allow me to help you with that.”
She looked at the mirror and said, “Let them move with us.”
At once the real versions of Cynthia and Mrs. Duncan were forced into the positions that their clones were in. For a split second I saw joy on their faces, because the real versions could suddenly see each other. But as the mirror clone of Cynthia sank to her knees, making the real Cynthia do the same, those looks shifted to fear and revulsion. And then my Cynthia put her mouth to her fake mother, and began licking out the cum Mr. Duncan had just deposited there.
I kept looking between what was happening in front of me, as well as what the real versions were being made to do. The mirror clone of Mrs. Duncan was groping her big tits now, forcing the real version to do the same. Mirror Cynthia brought her hands up to squeeze her fake mother’s ass, spreading her cheeks apart and running a finger up and down the crack.
I could have watched this for hours, but when my Cynthia had finished, she looked up and said, “All clean, Mommy. Daddy’s cum was super duper yummy.”
They both looked at me as Mrs. Duncan said, “Do you like your father’s cum better than our masters?”
“Oh no,” Cynthia said indignantly. “Master’s is truly the best. Why don’t you go see for yourself.”
And then Mrs. Duncan was on her knees and had my cock between her big boobs. She began sliding it up and down her cleavage while her daughter kissed her, then me, then her again. And I was not going to be able to take very much of this, especially when Mrs. Duncan began talking dirty.
“I want you to cum on these big tits, Stanley. I wanna feel your hot sticky jizz all over my skin. Mark me master! Mark my hot milf body!”
My cock twitched, and then erupted. My jizz landed on her face and chest. As it did, she shuddered and moaned like I’d just made HER cum. She let go of her tits and began scooping it up with her fingers and swallowed it as quick as she could.
“You were right, sweetie. It’s so yummy.”
“I told you,” Cynthia said, right before she put her mouth to her mom’s boobs and began helping herself to the cum I’d shot there.
After all the cum was off Mrs. Duncan, they both helped give my junk one last tongue bath, then helped me put my clothes back on. Needless to say, I was spent.
“Go home and rest,” Cynthia ordered. “Maybe eat something. You’ll need your stamina.”
“There’s so much more fucking we need to do,” Mrs. Duncan added.
I trudged home, which I was very glad was so close. I walked into the darkness of my living room, and heard a lamp click on. There was my mother. And she looked very pissed off.
“We pay your cell phone bill, Stanley. So when I call, I expect you to answer. I talked with your father, and I finally got him to agree that we’ve been to soft with you. Starting tomorrow, you’ve got a job working with your uncle as a roofer.”
All the joy I’d felt from today evaporated in an instant and was replaced with anger. “What? No! You can’t do that!”
“As long as you’re under our roof, you’ll live by our rules,” my mother said for like the millionth time. “Now go to bed. You’ll need to be up bright and early.”
I was about to storm off to my bedroom, when my Mom added, “Oh yes, give me your phone.”
“What? Why?!”
“Because if you can’t answer it, you don’t need it.”
She held out her hand and gave me that look that means if I don’t comply, she’s gonna find a way to make it even worse. I very begrudgingly took out my phone, and handed it to her. Then I stormed off. I briefly thought about checking in with Dad, who I assumed was already in bed, but apparently he’s with mom on this one.
Despite the anger I felt towards my new circumstance, I was able to fall asleep rather quickly. I guess that’s another perk of getting laid so many times.
Way, way too early, my mom woke me up. She made me eat breakfast, which is a meal I usually skip, and then my uncle picked me up for what would be a very long day.
I was made to do manual fucking labor. I had to carry stuff up a ladder, and move it here, and then move it there, and I felt like I got yelled at constantly and the whole thing just fucking sucked. And I had to do it for 8 hours. 8 HOURS!!! When my uncle finally told me we were done for the day, I wanted to spit in his face and tell him I never wanted to see him again. But I knew if I did, I’d probably be homeless that night. So I kept my internal rage to myself.
When my uncle pulled onto my street, I looked towards Cynthia’s house. I don’t care what Mom says, she can’t ban me from going over there.
I saw the front door open, and I sucked in a breath as my mom walked out the front door. Shit shit shit! What was that about?! And then a horrible thought crossed my mind. Mom had my phone. She’d had it all day. What if Cynthia sent me a text? Like one telling me to come over so I could fuck her brains out!
I watched my mom cross our yard. From this distance I couldn’t tell if she was mad. I’d planned on being extra pissy the second I got home, but now I just wanted to avoid her. I thought about going straight to Cynthia’s, but I saw her dad’s car was there. And I was aware of how very smelly I was after a grueling day of slave labor. There was also that avoiding my mom might make things worse. I resolved to check in and see what was what. Hopefully I’m just being paranoid. Maybe she’ll see how sweaty and tired I am and give me my phone back. Yeah, and maybe a million dollars will fall from the sky.
My paranoia seemed justified as I walked into my house. I could hear my mother washing dishes. Angrily. By that I mean water was loudly splashing in the sink and dishes were being loudly stacked one on top of each other on the counter. Despite the noise she was making, she still heard the door shut behind me. “Stanley Cornelius Cooper, get in here!”
Uh oh. My full name. Not a good start. I was on the defensive now, which meant I would remain quiet so as not to give Mom any extra ammunition to use against me. Innocent until proven guilty and all that. Except the way she was washing those dishes in the sink made it seem like she’d already decided on her verdict. The water sloshed about wildly in the sink as she moved her arms back and forth with a fervor in the sudsy water. Several times she created a wave that would splash up against the sides and soak the front of her shirt. She usually wore an apron when she did the dishes, but not today. Today she was wearing just a plain white shirt. I thought she had been wearing something purple when we ate breakfast? She must have changed after she worked out or something.
Suddenly she spoke, and the interrogation was underway. “Care to explain yourself?”
She didn’t turn to look at me. Just kept directly in front of the sink so she could wash, splash, and stack.
“What?!” I said, sharper than I meant to. Couldn’t help it. I was also pissed. “I worked with my uncle like you said I had to. I carried stuff up ladders. Got blisters. I was all fucking bullshit.”
“Language!” she snapped in a voice that normally would have made me back down. But I was just too angry.
“So sorry I said a bad word! I meant to say it was freaking terrible, and I hated it, and now I’m going to go upstairs to shower, and then go see my girlfriend!”
“I don’t think so, mister,” my mom said coldly. “I don’t think you’ll be going over there anytime soon. Not after the text message she sent to your phone a half hour ago.”
Suddenly I had a knot in my stomach.
“You want to know what that little hussy said? She asked where you were and how come you haven’t come over yet so she could drain your balls? Seriously, Stanley! This is not the kind of girl your father and I want you with!”
The knot tightened, and a hopelessness spread out to my limbs, making them tremble with dread. My mom would never accept a girl that talked like that. I hoped there wasn’t more, but mom was still talking.
“So I went over to confront your little girlfriend,” Mom continued. “Her mother answered the door. I showed her the text. To her credit, at least her mom had the decency to be embarrassed and apologetic. She told me things had been hard at home and that Cynthia was going through a phase. She invited me in, and took me upstairs so I could see a mirror in her daughter’s room.”
Surely I hadn’t heard that right. “Wh-what?” I croaked. “What did you just say?”
And that’s when Mom stopped washing dishes, and turned towards me. She put her hands on her hips, and pushed out her chest. The front of her white shirt was completely soaked. Like, it couldn’t get any wetter. And it was completely see through. And Mom…wasn’t wearing a bra. I could see her boobs, and her pink pointy nipples protruding from them.
“I said I looked into the mirror, Stanley,” she said, with an eerie smile that I’d seen on two other women last night.
No. This can’t be happening.
Mom gave a fake gasp and said mock indignation, “Gee, Stanley, is there something on my chest? You can’t seem to stop staring at it? Oh no, it’s my shirt, isn’t it! It’s so wet! I better just take it off.”
And then she lifted her shirt, and suddenly my mom was topless in front of me in my kitchen. Except…it wasn’t my mom. It was a thing that looked like her. Sounded like her. But it was not her.
“I can see why you like to stare though, sweetie. Mommy’s got a nice rack.” She pushed her boobs together and held them out to me. “Do you like them better than the milf’s next door? Please say you do, or you’ll make mommy so sad.”
No. No no no no no no no! When the shock finally wore off, I found my voice. “I didn’t give you permission to…to take her!” I yelled. “That’s my mom! Go back to the mirror and switch places with her right now!”
My mom’s face went from playful and seductive, to the most sinister thing I’ve ever seen. For a second, her face didn’t resemble anything human, but was like something from another world. An evil world.
When she spoke, I could still hear a bit of my mom’s voice, but tinged with something old and malevolent. “Say that again boy, and I’ll tear you limb from limb.”
I was so scared in that moment, that I pissed myself.
My mom, or the thing that looked like my mom, noticed the dark spot that spread out over my crotch. She suddenly looked like herself again and said, “Oh, did my baby have an accident? Let’s get you all cleaned up.”
I couldn’t move as she walked over to me. She scooped me up like I weighed nothing. She took me upstairs to the bathroom and stripped me bare. She got the water nice and hot in the bathtub, and then put me in and began to wash me like she used to when I was little. While she did she hummed a familiar tune, and looked at me with that expression of maternal love I’d always known from her.
The illusion was so perfect that I could almost really believe it was her. But I kept remembering that it wasn’t. The truth was that my mom was next door. Trapped in an evil mirror. And it was all my fault.
“Baby, don’t be sad?” she said as she saw my lower lip tremble. “I know what will make you feel better.”
And then she pushed my face into her bare chest, and said, “Go on. Suck on mom’s nipples like you did when you were little. That’ll calm you right down, baby.”
I was scared and broken now, and I automatically opened my mouth, and received what she slipped inside. It tasted like…home, and I began to suck greedily.
“Mm, that’s a good boy,” my mom said. “Oh my, it looks like someone’s popped up to say hello.”
I knew then that I’d gotten hard. I felt her hand, a hand that had patted me on the head lovingly so many times, reach down, and begin to stroke my cock that was sticking out of the water.
“You’e not my little boy anymore, are you baby. You’re my big man. Let momma show you how she takes care of her big man.”
She stroked me, and whispered lovingly in my ear, all while I sucked on her tits. Until I came.
“Oh there’s so much baby. I’m so proud of you. Such a good boy. Next time I hope your cum goes in mommy’s pussy. I bet you’d like that even more. Right?”
“Yes, mom,” I said blankly.
She made me stand up so she could towel me dry. Afterwards she said, “Now go downstairs, because we’re having company soon.”
I almost asked who, but I knew the answer. “Okay. I’ll…I’ll get some clothes on and-”
“No need, baby. Come down just you are. Such a handsome young man.”
All I could do was nod and say, “Okay.”
My mirror mom and I sat naked across from each other at our dining room table, waiting for our guests. After twenty minutes, and without so much as a knock, Cynthia and Mrs. Duncan entered the house. They were just as naked as we were.
My mom’s face tightened. She kept a smile on her face, but I could tell it was just a mask as she said, “He told me that I should go back into the mirror.”
Cynthia scowled at me for a second, but quickly softened her features. “That’s out of the question, ‘master.’”
The word ‘master' dripped from her lips with unveiled sarcasm, and I understood now that it was an empty title. I’d been used. This had all been a ruse so that the creatures on the other side of the mirror could escape to our plane of existence.
Cynthia came over to sit on my lap. She began stroking my hair as she said patiently, “When you summoned me with that arcane ritual, I gave you the instructions to make a portal for me to come through. I said if you did, I’d be able to become a perfect copy of anyone you wanted, and then I’d live to serve you. But I was very clear that once I replaced the original, we would never go back. Ever.”
I looked into the eyes of the girl I’d obsessed over for as long as I could remember. But the eyes that looked back at me had become soulless and black.
“I’ll serve you for as long as you live master. But that won’t be very long if you ever ask me or any of my kind to return to that place. Understand?”
I nodded slowly.
Cynthia smiled, and then the whites of her eyes and pupils returned. “Great! Now let’s celebrate! Who do you want first, master?”
My mom, Mrs. Duncan, and Cynthia all presented themselves to me by holding out their boobs.
As tempting as the sight was, I had a dreadful question I needed to ask. “Are there…more of you? Your kind, I mean? Are they coming through too?”
All three women nodded. I tried to choke down the panic I felt, but I couldn’t stop myself from hyperventilating.
My mom said, “Don’t worry ladies. I know how to handle this.”
She touched Cynthia’s arm, and the girl got off my lap. My mother took her place, straddling me. She began stroking my hair. “Yes, sweetie. More will come.”
“H-h-how many?” I asked.
She rocked on my lap, and I felt her slick pussy glide along the length of my dick as she gave me the bad news. “Thousands, sweetie. Thousands. They’ll become the people you know, and many people you don’t. This whole town will belong to us, and everyone in it will be willing to serve you.”
Just then my dad walked in the front door. We all looked at him, and in a panic I blurted, “Shit! Dad, this isn’t…I can explain!”
He grinned at me and said, “No need. I’ve already visited the mirror, ‘son.’” He began to take off all his clothes. “I was hoping though you’d let me have a turn with one of these ladies’ holes. Perhaps I could use your mother’s mouth while you fuck her from behind?”
“That sounds wonderful, darling,” my mom said as she climbed off my lap. My boner already missed her. I watched as she got on all fours and took my father into her mouth.
“Go ahead and fuck Mommy,” Cynthia urged with a smile. And then she began to eat out her own mother on the kitchen counter.
I obediently got down on my knees, and thrust into my mother from behind.
I heard her choke on dad’s cock for a second, then she looked back at me and said, “Mm, so big for mommy. Fuck me sweetie.”
I did. And as moans began to fill the room, Mrs. Cooper told me, “Cynthia invited her former cheerleading squad to a party at our house tomorrow, master. We’re going to have them all look in the mirror. And then we can have your former teachers. Anyone and everyone you’ve ever wanted to fuck or enslave, they’ll all be yours.
It’s everything I ever wanted. And all it cost me was everyone I ever held dear.
The end.
body control
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A witch is invited to a college party and offers a special game of Beer Pong. It is a very special version of hooking up.
The silence in the room was thick enough to chew. All eyes were locked on Keisha and the impossible sight of Tai’s arms buried deep within her. Her face was a mask of pure, unadulterated fury, her body trembling not with fear, but with volcanic rage.
“Maybe I can dig it out with my other hand?” Tai offered, his voice muffled and strained from inside her.
“TAI! DON’T YOU DA—” Keisha’s command was obliterated by a guttural, choking scream as his second hand plunged in after the first, the tight ring of muscle at her entrance stretching with an audible, wet sssskkkrtch to accommodate the double intrusion. Inside, the sensation was beyond anything she could have conceived. It wasn't just a presence; it was a colonizing force. She could feel the precise shape of his fingers, the rough texture of his palms as they brushed against her most intimate internal walls, exploring, mapping her from the inside out. A hot, full pressure began to build deep in her core, a feeling of being packed, filled beyond her limits.
“Vivian,” Keisha hissed, her voice dripping with venom, every word a struggle. “There is currently a Korean man wedged shoulder deep in my anal cavity. Would you PLEASE do something about it before he explodes out through my stomach?”
Vivian’s eyes lit up with demonic glee. “Oooh, do something about it?! I thought you’d never ask!” She practically skipped behind Keisha, placing her small foot squarely on the small of Tai’s back, the only part of him still visible.
The kick wasn’t forceful, but it was decisive. With a sound like a giant cork being pulled from a bottle of thick oil, followed by a deep, resonant FWUMP, Tai’s torso was suddenly propelled inward. Keisha’s eyes shot wide, then instantly rolled back into her head, a strangled grunt the only protest she could muster as her body accepted the violation. Her glorious, sculpted ass cheeks quivered violently before clapping together with a final, wet smack, sealing Tai completely inside her. For a moment, she stood there, stunned, her body humming with the shock of the intrusion.
Then, the real transformation began.
A distinct bulge, the unmistakable outline of a man’s face, pushed against the tight, toned skin of her lower abdomen. Keisha looked down, her horror reflected in the faces of the onlookers. “Wha— what is that?” she gasped, her hands flying to the protrusion. As she touched it, the face within seemed to smile, stretching her skin grotesquely.
The rest of Tai followed in a relentless, internal avalanche. She felt him bundling into her stomach, a tangle of limbs and mass forcing her midsection to distend outward. Her flat, hard-won abs disappeared, replaced by a bloated, pregnant dome that strained her skin. Inside, it was a maelstrom. Tai, disoriented and panicked, began to thrash. His knees jerked, and Keisha’s legs buckled involuntarily. His elbows flailed, and her arms spasmed at her sides. She stumbled, a marionette with a frantic puppeteer trapped inside her, emitting a series of choked yelps and moans with every involuntary movement.
“You said you were going to help!” Keisha accused Vivian, her voice wavering as she struggled to remain upright.
Vivian just blinked. “I did help you. Is he still stuck?”
Keisha’s mental struggle was a silent scream in a dissolving prison. My body! This is MY body! she thought, a mantra of defiance. But with every thrash, Tai’s consciousness seeped into her nerves, his confusion and panic becoming her own. She felt his legs, strong and muscular, sliding into the length of her own. It was a horrifying, stretching sensation, like her bones were being remolded. Her thighs, already powerful, gained a new, thicker solidity. Her calves tightened. And then, with a final, psychic click, control of her legs was severed from her brain and handed over to his. He was in charge of moving them now.
The loss of autonomy was more terrifying than the physical invasion. She tried to command her legs to step forward, but they remained rooted. Instead, Tai, blindly seeking leverage, forced them to collapse.
She fell backward, her enormous new ass—now the seat of his consciousness—thudding onto the carpet with a jiggle that sent a shockwave through her frame. The impact seemed to energize him. Using the new-found anchor of her lower body, he began to push upward, trying to climb out of the fleshy well of her torso.
Keisha’s upper body was dragged across the floor, her back arching, her head lolling. She was a passenger, forced to feel every graze of the carpet, every powerful, uncoordinated jerk. Next, his arms slipped into hers. The feeling was one of overwhelming fullness; her biceps and forearms thickened, gaining a lean, wiry strength that was entirely his. Her hands, once her own, now felt alien, their movements his impulses.
The final assault was on her head. The bulging face in her stomach began its ascent, tunneling up through her organs, a relentless pressure moving up her diaphragm, between her lungs, pushing her breasts aside. She could feel the shape of his nose, his lips, his brow ridge moving up through her core. Her neck distended, a grotesque balloon animal version of itself as his head forced its way into the column. She arched her back, a final, desperate attempt to keep her own head above the rising tide of him, her eyes locking with Vivian’s in a final promise of vengeance.
“Remember, bitch. I WILL get you back for this.”
It was her last coherent thought. His skull pressed up against the base of her own, and with a final, full-body spasm that was entirely his doing, he merged. It was like a key turning in a lock. Her consciousness didn’t vanish; it was simply… submerged, pushed into a tiny, dark corner of her own mind. She was aware, but she was no longer in control. She could only watch, a ghost in her own machine, as her eyes—his eyes now—snapped open.
“Holy shit, was that a ride!” The voice that came from her mouth was Tai’s—his cadence, his excited pitch—but filtered through Keisha’s softer vocal cords, creating a strange, androgynous sound. He sat up, using her hands to grab a fistful of her own wispy raven hair, his amazement palpable. “Thank god I landed on this bean bag when I fell though, I’d hate to damage the goods before I got to sample them!” He chuckled, patting the generous curve of her ass beneath him.
From the corner, Danny, still lounging on the actual beanbag, piped up. “But dude, I’m on the bean bag! You didn’t land on anything bro. That’s just Keisha’s…”
A look of dawning, ecstatic comprehension spread across Keisha’s features—Tai’s expressions now. “OH SWEET MOSES!” he exclaimed, the voice a perfect blend of his shock and her tone. He scrambled to his feet—her feet—with an agility that was all his. His hands, her hands, flew to the monumental cheeks he’d just been sitting on, groping and kneading the flesh with ravenous disbelief.
The sensation was double-layered: Tai’s euphoric discovery and, buried deep within, Keisha’s mortified, screaming silence as she felt her own hands violating her in ways she never had. He shook his—their—hips, watching in a nearby reflective surface as the jiggle propagated in a wave of mesmerizing motion.
“Is this what she feels ALL THE TIME!” he whooped, his laughter echoing in the silent, stunned room. Inside, Keisha fought, a desperate mental push against a wall of overwhelming control. She tried to scream, to regain a muscle, but was pulled into Tai. She was no longer separate but now a part of Tai. Her body was no longer hers. It was now Taisha’s. And Taisha was thrilled.
The silence in the room was thick enough to chew. All eyes were locked on Keisha and the impossible sight of Tai’s arms buried deep within her. Her face was a mask of pure, unadulterated fury, her body trembling not with fear, but with volcanic rage.
“Maybe I can dig it out with my other hand?” Tai offered, his voice muffled and strained from inside her.
“TAI! DON’T YOU DA—” Keisha’s command was obliterated by a guttural, choking scream as his second hand plunged in after the first, the tight ring of muscle at her entrance stretching with an audible, wet sssskkkrtch to accommodate the double intrusion. Inside, the sensation was beyond anything she could have conceived. It wasn't just a presence; it was a colonizing force. She could feel the precise shape of his fingers, the rough texture of his palms as they brushed against her most intimate internal walls, exploring, mapping her from the inside out. A hot, full pressure began to build deep in her core, a feeling of being packed, filled beyond her limits.
“Vivian,” Keisha hissed, her voice dripping with venom, every word a struggle. “There is currently a Korean man wedged shoulder deep in my anal cavity. Would you PLEASE do something about it before he explodes out through my stomach?”
Vivian’s eyes lit up with demonic glee. “Oooh, do something about it?! I thought you’d never ask!” She practically skipped behind Keisha, placing her small foot squarely on the small of Tai’s back, the only part of him still visible.
The kick wasn’t forceful, but it was decisive. With a sound like a giant cork being pulled from a bottle of thick oil, followed by a deep, resonant FWUMP, Tai’s torso was suddenly propelled inward. Keisha’s eyes shot wide, then instantly rolled back into her head, a strangled grunt the only protest she could muster as her body accepted the violation. Her glorious, sculpted ass cheeks quivered violently before clapping together with a final, wet smack, sealing Tai completely inside her. For a moment, she stood there, stunned, her body humming with the shock of the intrusion.
Then, the real transformation began.
A distinct bulge, the unmistakable outline of a man’s face, pushed against the tight, toned skin of her lower abdomen. Keisha looked down, her horror reflected in the faces of the onlookers. “Wha— what is that?” she gasped, her hands flying to the protrusion. As she touched it, the face within seemed to smile, stretching her skin grotesquely.
The rest of Tai followed in a relentless, internal avalanche. She felt him bundling into her stomach, a tangle of limbs and mass forcing her midsection to distend outward. Her flat, hard-won abs disappeared, replaced by a bloated, pregnant dome that strained her skin. Inside, it was a maelstrom. Tai, disoriented and panicked, began to thrash. His knees jerked, and Keisha’s legs buckled involuntarily. His elbows flailed, and her arms spasmed at her sides. She stumbled, a marionette with a frantic puppeteer trapped inside her, emitting a series of choked yelps and moans with every involuntary movement.
“You said you were going to help!” Keisha accused Vivian, her voice wavering as she struggled to remain upright.
Vivian just blinked. “I did help you. Is he still stuck?”
Keisha’s mental struggle was a silent scream in a dissolving prison. My body! This is MY body! she thought, a mantra of defiance. But with every thrash, Tai’s consciousness seeped into her nerves, his confusion and panic becoming her own. She felt his legs, strong and muscular, sliding into the length of her own. It was a horrifying, stretching sensation, like her bones were being remolded. Her thighs, already powerful, gained a new, thicker solidity. Her calves tightened. And then, with a final, psychic click, control of her legs was severed from her brain and handed over to his. He was in charge of moving them now.
The loss of autonomy was more terrifying than the physical invasion. She tried to command her legs to step forward, but they remained rooted. Instead, Tai, blindly seeking leverage, forced them to collapse.
She fell backward, her enormous new ass—now the seat of his consciousness—thudding onto the carpet with a jiggle that sent a shockwave through her frame. The impact seemed to energize him. Using the new-found anchor of her lower body, he began to push upward, trying to climb out of the fleshy well of her torso.
Keisha’s upper body was dragged across the floor, her back arching, her head lolling. She was a passenger, forced to feel every graze of the carpet, every powerful, uncoordinated jerk. Next, his arms slipped into hers. The feeling was one of overwhelming fullness; her biceps and forearms thickened, gaining a lean, wiry strength that was entirely his. Her hands, once her own, now felt alien, their movements his impulses.
The final assault was on her head. The bulging face in her stomach began its ascent, tunneling up through her organs, a relentless pressure moving up her diaphragm, between her lungs, pushing her breasts aside. She could feel the shape of his nose, his lips, his brow ridge moving up through her core. Her neck distended, a grotesque balloon animal version of itself as his head forced its way into the column. She arched her back, a final, desperate attempt to keep her own head above the rising tide of him, her eyes locking with Vivian’s in a final promise of vengeance.
“Remember, bitch. I WILL get you back for this.”
It was her last coherent thought. His skull pressed up against the base of her own, and with a final, full-body spasm that was entirely his doing, he merged. It was like a key turning in a lock. Her consciousness didn’t vanish; it was simply… submerged, pushed into a tiny, dark corner of her own mind. She was aware, but she was no longer in control. She could only watch, a ghost in her own machine, as her eyes—his eyes now—snapped open.
“Holy shit, was that a ride!” The voice that came from her mouth was Tai’s—his cadence, his excited pitch—but filtered through Keisha’s softer vocal cords, creating a strange, androgynous sound. He sat up, using her hands to grab a fistful of her own wispy raven hair, his amazement palpable. “Thank god I landed on this bean bag when I fell though, I’d hate to damage the goods before I got to sample them!” He chuckled, patting the generous curve of her ass beneath him.
From the corner, Danny, still lounging on the actual beanbag, piped up. “But dude, I’m on the bean bag! You didn’t land on anything bro. That’s just Keisha’s…”
A look of dawning, ecstatic comprehension spread across Keisha’s features—Tai’s expressions now. “OH SWEET MOSES!” he exclaimed, the voice a perfect blend of his shock and her tone. He scrambled to his feet—her feet—with an agility that was all his. His hands, her hands, flew to the monumental cheeks he’d just been sitting on, groping and kneading the flesh with ravenous disbelief.
The sensation was double-layered: Tai’s euphoric discovery and, buried deep within, Keisha’s mortified, screaming silence as she felt her own hands violating her in ways she never had. He shook his—their—hips, watching in a nearby reflective surface as the jiggle propagated in a wave of mesmerizing motion.
“Is this what she feels ALL THE TIME!” he whooped, his laughter echoing in the silent, stunned room. Inside, Keisha fought, a desperate mental push against a wall of overwhelming control. She tried to scream, to regain a muscle, but was pulled into Tai. She was no longer separate but now a part of Tai. Her body was no longer hers. It was now Taisha’s. And Taisha was thrilled.
possession
+7 more
6
8.5K
0
1
Stacey and her team are chosen to fight an alien invasion
It all started during what should’ve been just another grueling practice session under the sweltering Texas sun. Sweat stung my eyes, and my muscles screamed in protest with every high kick and flip. I was Stacey Robinson, head cheerleader of the Northwood Wildcats, and we were running the pyramid sequence for what felt like the hundredth time.
That’s when the sky tore open.
Not with a crack of thunder, but with a soft, shimmering hum. A light, gentle as a sunbeam, descended, and out stepped a figure that looked less like an alien invader and more like a yoga instructor from a high-end spa. He was tall, slender, with skin that shimmered like mother-of-pearl and eyes the color of a calm sea. He introduced himself as Nagai, an emissary from a distant star.
“Stacey Robinson,” he said, his voice like a melody. “Your world is in grave, albeit peculiar, danger.”
We all just stared, too shocked to even drop our pom-poms.
He explained that an ancient cosmic ruler, a being of immense vanity and twisted ideals, was approaching Earth. Her name was Queen Adiposa, and her goal was to impose her own standard of beauty upon the universe: to make fat not just acceptable, but the only form of beauty, eradicating all others. Her method? A wave of transformative energy, preceded by an army of minions who looked… well, like unnaturally enthusiastic Planet Fitness trainers in their purple and yellow uniforms, forever chanting about “no judgement.”
“Your spirit, your power, your unity,” Nagai said, his gaze sweeping over my team—Chloe, Hannah, Zoe, Maya, and Brianna. “You six are the only ones who can stop her. You will become my champions. The Supersonic Pussy Rangers.”
We glanced at each other. The name was ridiculous. The situation was insane. But the look in Nagai’s eyes was dead serious.
A wave of his hand, and a flash of light enveloped us. I felt a surge of power, a buzzing energy that settled deep in my core. When the light faded, we were all clad in skintight suits. Mine was a vibrant, commanding red. Chloe got pink, Hannah yellow, Zoe a deep purple, and Maya a cool aqua. And then there was Brianna.
Brianna, already the bustiest of us by a mile, was… naked. But not just naked. Her suit was a shimmering, barely-there layer of light that did nothing to conceal her incredible figure. Nagai hadn’t been kidding about the name. Her breasts were so magnificently large, so breathtakingly full, they truly looked like they could swallow a person’s head whole.
“Your power will manifest when you face your enemy,” Nagai said, just as the ground shook.
Our first monster arrived. It was a hulking beast made of what looked like lumpy, pink flesh, with a single massive eye and a microphone headset. It was flanked by a dozen of those smiling, clapping Planet Fitness minions. “Let’s get this party started! No lunkheads, just gains!” one of them chirped.
We fought. It was chaos. We moved with a speed and strength we never knew we had, our colored suits leaving streaks of light in the air. We kicked and punched, our movements synchronized from years of practice, now amplified into something superhuman. We finally took the monster down with a combined energy blast.
But it wasn’t over. The fallen monster began to glow, its body reassembling and swelling, growing taller and taller until it loomed over the school, a five-story tall abomination of jiggling fat and distorted fitness enthusiasm.
“Now, Stacey!” Nagai’s voice echoed in my mind. “It is time!”
A belt of gleaming silver and red, engraved with strange symbols, appeared in his hands. He tossed it to me. I caught it, and without thinking, I slapped it around my waist. A click, a hum, and then… silence.
The world froze. The monster was a statue mid-roar. The minions were frozen in their mindless clapping. My team hovered in the air around me, their eyes glazed over, caught in Nagai’s powerful stasis.
I was lifted into the air. Chloe (Pink) and Zoe (Purple) floated toward me in a dreamlike daze. My legs, guided by an unseen force, slipped into their open mouths. I felt no resistance, only a warm, incredible pressure as my feet slid down, down, coming to rest deep within their stomachs. It was the strangest, most intimate sensation I’d ever felt.
Next, Hannah (Yellow) and Maya (Aqua) drifted over. My arms entered them, sinking into their bodies through their backsides up to just below my elbows. Their legs unwound themselves and wrapped tightly around my torso, locking into place. I could feel the muscles in their thighs tense against my sides.
Finally, Brianna—Naked—floated toward my chest. She pressed against me, her incredible softness moulding to my form. She wrapped her arms and legs around my own, locking us together, and then let her head fall forward, completely vanishing between the immense, soft pillows of her own breasts, pressed firmly against my chest.
I dropped back to the ground, the impact jolting through me. I could feel Brianna’s body on my front, her breasts bouncing with the landing. I tentatively tried to move.
I thought, step forward.
The movement came, but it wasn’t just my leg. It was Chloe’s and then Zoe’s legs moving in perfect unison with me, their bodies moving as extensions of my own. I was controlling them. I was them. I lifted my arms, and saw Hannah and Maya’s arms mirror the movement perfectly.
“This is your Megazord form,” Nagai’s voice explained, sound returning to my private bubble of time. “You are the core. You command their bodies as your own limbs. They will remember none of this. To release them, you must defeat the enemy. When it is weakened, you must yell ‘FINISHER!’.”
I practiced. A step became a mighty stomp from four powerful legs. A punch became a devastating blow from four clenched fists. The power was dizzying. I felt the distinct sensations from each of my teammates—the sleek strength of Chloe, the flexible power of Zoe, the explosive energy of Hannah, the steady grace of Maya, and the overwhelming, soft warmth of Brianna pressed against me.
“Now, Stacey,” Nagai said. “Finish it.”
Time slammed back into motion with a roar.
The giant monster swung a fist the size of a car at me. I—we—blocked it with a forearm, the impact resonating through our combined bodies. We fought, a giantess of flesh and power against a monster of fat. We were faster, stronger, unified. With a series of powerful blows, we weakened it, until it staggered, dizzy and disoriented.
Now.
I took a deep breath, the motion causing Brianna’s chest to rise and fall against mine.
“FINISHER!” I yelled, my voice echoing with the combined power of six girls.
We leaped, a phenomenal jump that carried our combined form high into the air. We twisted, aiming ourselves downward. The monster looked up, its single eye wide with confusion.
We came down on its head, not on its body.
We landed perfectly, with the soft, warm heart of our formation—Brianna—coming to rest directly over the monster’s head. It let out a muffled, gurgled roar, its head completely smothered, suffocated between the immense, world-encompassing softness of her vagina. It struggled for a moment, then fell still, beginning to dissolve into harmless pink mist.
The belt on my waist clicked. The world dissolved in another flash of light, and I was standing alone, back in my red ranger suit. My team stood around me, blinking, stretching.
“Whoa, did we do it?” Chloe asked, looking at the fading pink mist. “I blacked out for a second there. What a rush!”
They remembered nothing. But I remembered everything. The feeling of their bodies as my own. The incredible, intimate power.
And I knew, with a thrilling certainty that shot right through me, that this was only the beginning. Queen Adiposa would send more monsters. And each time, we would combine. Each time, I would feel that connection, that control.
And each time, I would make my teammates more… mine.
It all started during what should’ve been just another grueling practice session under the sweltering Texas sun. Sweat stung my eyes, and my muscles screamed in protest with every high kick and flip. I was Stacey Robinson, head cheerleader of the Northwood Wildcats, and we were running the pyramid sequence for what felt like the hundredth time.
That’s when the sky tore open.
Not with a crack of thunder, but with a soft, shimmering hum. A light, gentle as a sunbeam, descended, and out stepped a figure that looked less like an alien invader and more like a yoga instructor from a high-end spa. He was tall, slender, with skin that shimmered like mother-of-pearl and eyes the color of a calm sea. He introduced himself as Nagai, an emissary from a distant star.
“Stacey Robinson,” he said, his voice like a melody. “Your world is in grave, albeit peculiar, danger.”
We all just stared, too shocked to even drop our pom-poms.
He explained that an ancient cosmic ruler, a being of immense vanity and twisted ideals, was approaching Earth. Her name was Queen Adiposa, and her goal was to impose her own standard of beauty upon the universe: to make fat not just acceptable, but the only form of beauty, eradicating all others. Her method? A wave of transformative energy, preceded by an army of minions who looked… well, like unnaturally enthusiastic Planet Fitness trainers in their purple and yellow uniforms, forever chanting about “no judgement.”
“Your spirit, your power, your unity,” Nagai said, his gaze sweeping over my team—Chloe, Hannah, Zoe, Maya, and Brianna. “You six are the only ones who can stop her. You will become my champions. The Supersonic Pussy Rangers.”
We glanced at each other. The name was ridiculous. The situation was insane. But the look in Nagai’s eyes was dead serious.
A wave of his hand, and a flash of light enveloped us. I felt a surge of power, a buzzing energy that settled deep in my core. When the light faded, we were all clad in skintight suits. Mine was a vibrant, commanding red. Chloe got pink, Hannah yellow, Zoe a deep purple, and Maya a cool aqua. And then there was Brianna.
Brianna, already the bustiest of us by a mile, was… naked. But not just naked. Her suit was a shimmering, barely-there layer of light that did nothing to conceal her incredible figure. Nagai hadn’t been kidding about the name. Her breasts were so magnificently large, so breathtakingly full, they truly looked like they could swallow a person’s head whole.
“Your power will manifest when you face your enemy,” Nagai said, just as the ground shook.
Our first monster arrived. It was a hulking beast made of what looked like lumpy, pink flesh, with a single massive eye and a microphone headset. It was flanked by a dozen of those smiling, clapping Planet Fitness minions. “Let’s get this party started! No lunkheads, just gains!” one of them chirped.
We fought. It was chaos. We moved with a speed and strength we never knew we had, our colored suits leaving streaks of light in the air. We kicked and punched, our movements synchronized from years of practice, now amplified into something superhuman. We finally took the monster down with a combined energy blast.
But it wasn’t over. The fallen monster began to glow, its body reassembling and swelling, growing taller and taller until it loomed over the school, a five-story tall abomination of jiggling fat and distorted fitness enthusiasm.
“Now, Stacey!” Nagai’s voice echoed in my mind. “It is time!”
A belt of gleaming silver and red, engraved with strange symbols, appeared in his hands. He tossed it to me. I caught it, and without thinking, I slapped it around my waist. A click, a hum, and then… silence.
The world froze. The monster was a statue mid-roar. The minions were frozen in their mindless clapping. My team hovered in the air around me, their eyes glazed over, caught in Nagai’s powerful stasis.
I was lifted into the air. Chloe (Pink) and Zoe (Purple) floated toward me in a dreamlike daze. My legs, guided by an unseen force, slipped into their open mouths. I felt no resistance, only a warm, incredible pressure as my feet slid down, down, coming to rest deep within their stomachs. It was the strangest, most intimate sensation I’d ever felt.
Next, Hannah (Yellow) and Maya (Aqua) drifted over. My arms entered them, sinking into their bodies through their backsides up to just below my elbows. Their legs unwound themselves and wrapped tightly around my torso, locking into place. I could feel the muscles in their thighs tense against my sides.
Finally, Brianna—Naked—floated toward my chest. She pressed against me, her incredible softness moulding to my form. She wrapped her arms and legs around my own, locking us together, and then let her head fall forward, completely vanishing between the immense, soft pillows of her own breasts, pressed firmly against my chest.
I dropped back to the ground, the impact jolting through me. I could feel Brianna’s body on my front, her breasts bouncing with the landing. I tentatively tried to move.
I thought, step forward.
The movement came, but it wasn’t just my leg. It was Chloe’s and then Zoe’s legs moving in perfect unison with me, their bodies moving as extensions of my own. I was controlling them. I was them. I lifted my arms, and saw Hannah and Maya’s arms mirror the movement perfectly.
“This is your Megazord form,” Nagai’s voice explained, sound returning to my private bubble of time. “You are the core. You command their bodies as your own limbs. They will remember none of this. To release them, you must defeat the enemy. When it is weakened, you must yell ‘FINISHER!’.”
I practiced. A step became a mighty stomp from four powerful legs. A punch became a devastating blow from four clenched fists. The power was dizzying. I felt the distinct sensations from each of my teammates—the sleek strength of Chloe, the flexible power of Zoe, the explosive energy of Hannah, the steady grace of Maya, and the overwhelming, soft warmth of Brianna pressed against me.
“Now, Stacey,” Nagai said. “Finish it.”
Time slammed back into motion with a roar.
The giant monster swung a fist the size of a car at me. I—we—blocked it with a forearm, the impact resonating through our combined bodies. We fought, a giantess of flesh and power against a monster of fat. We were faster, stronger, unified. With a series of powerful blows, we weakened it, until it staggered, dizzy and disoriented.
Now.
I took a deep breath, the motion causing Brianna’s chest to rise and fall against mine.
“FINISHER!” I yelled, my voice echoing with the combined power of six girls.
We leaped, a phenomenal jump that carried our combined form high into the air. We twisted, aiming ourselves downward. The monster looked up, its single eye wide with confusion.
We came down on its head, not on its body.
We landed perfectly, with the soft, warm heart of our formation—Brianna—coming to rest directly over the monster’s head. It let out a muffled, gurgled roar, its head completely smothered, suffocated between the immense, world-encompassing softness of her vagina. It struggled for a moment, then fell still, beginning to dissolve into harmless pink mist.
The belt on my waist clicked. The world dissolved in another flash of light, and I was standing alone, back in my red ranger suit. My team stood around me, blinking, stretching.
“Whoa, did we do it?” Chloe asked, looking at the fading pink mist. “I blacked out for a second there. What a rush!”
They remembered nothing. But I remembered everything. The feeling of their bodies as my own. The incredible, intimate power.
And I knew, with a thrilling certainty that shot right through me, that this was only the beginning. Queen Adiposa would send more monsters. And each time, we would combine. Each time, I would feel that connection, that control.
And each time, I would make my teammates more… mine.
mind control
+8 more
17
15.8K
1
0
When Philip and Jack are given the challenge of going on a panty raid through the sorority next door to secure their place as pledges at Delta Epsilon, Philip's heart sinks.
With the sorority girls having already taken well known countermeasures to deal with any would be panty thieves, he thinks the chances of completing the challenge are near zero.
However, when his best friend Jack claims to have a plan involving a little magic and burrowing the bodies of his crush Vanessa and her roommate Katy, he knows he is in for a long night ahead when things don't exactly end up going to plan...
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 floor of Delta Epsilon’s house was sticky.
Beer, cheap cologne, and stale pizza had seeped into the carpet like a second skin, and Philip had the honor of scrubbing it clean while half a dozen brothers lounged on couches watching basketball highlights.
“Missed a spot,” one of them called, deliberately tilting a red Solo cup so that the last of his drink bled out onto the carpet inches from Philip’s sponge.
Philip clenched his jaw. He’d been degraded all semester, fetching fast food at three in the morning, running errands that skirted the edge of being criminal, serving as human furniture during drinking games. He told himself it would be worth it. Delta Epsilon’s parties were legendary, the kind of place girls lined up to get into. More importantly, alumni connections meant a shot at internships that led to real careers. You suffered now, you cashed in later.
Jack, naturally, thrived. He was perched on the arm of a sofa, balancing a tray of wings for two seniors, grinning like the humiliation was a party of its own.
“How’s that knee grease holding up, Phil?” he teased, eyebrows bouncing. Philip muttered something under his breath, pressing the sponge hard enough to leave his knuckles white. He’d thought pledging with his best friend would make things easier. Instead, Jack’s bottomless energy only made Philip feel like the boring one, always one step away from quitting.
The pledge master, Trent, finally called them over once the brothers had eaten their fill.
“You’ve made it further than many,” he said, addressing both Philip and Jack while tapping the ash off his cigar. “Scrubbing toilets, babysitting drunk brothers, taking whatever punishment we throw at you, you did it all without complaint. But Delta doesn’t hand out membership for free. There’s one last hurdle.”
Jack’s eyes lit up, while Philip felt his stomach knot. Trent leaned forward. “You’ve got until Saturday morning to bring us proof that you’re worthy of being Delta Epsilons. And by proof, I mean the underwear of one of the Theta sisters across the street.”
A ripple of laughter passed through the room. Someone whistled. Another shouted, “Better hope they’re lace!”
Philip’s face burned hot. He’d expected something brutal. A dangerous stunt, or maybe even a tattoo or branding, not…this. Not something that felt like the set-up to a police record for being a creep.
Jack, of course, grinned like he’d just been handed a golden ticket. “Piece of cake,” he said.
“Piece of felony,” Philip muttered.
Trent ignored the comment. “You get caught, that’s your problem. Theta girls are sick of pranks. They’ll eat you alive if they catch you sneaking around. Fail, and you’ll have to re-pledge next semester, if we even let you back in. Succeed, and you’ll be full brothers by sunrise.”
He flicked his cigar ash into an empty beer can, and the matter was closed. Philip and Jack were dismissed like servants, slipping out into the cool night air. The frat house behind them thumped with bass as the next round of drinking games began.
Across the street, the Theta house glowed with warm yellow light, its windows alive with the silhouettes of girls laughing, moving and living in a world that felt forbidden.
Philip shoved his hands into his hoodie pocket. “This is insane. They want us to break into a sorority house. Forget expulsion, that’s actual jail time if we’re caught and reported.”
Jack slung an arm around his shoulder, grinning as if he hadn’t heard a word. “Come on, man. It’s tradition. Everybody who ever wore Delta letters has done something crazy like this. We’ll figure it out. We always do.”
Philip shrugged him off. “You mean you’ll figure it out. And drag me with you.”
Jack’s grin widened. “Exactly. Don’t worry, I’ve got a plan.” That phrase, I’ve got a plan, was the single most dangerous thing Jack could say. Philip knew better, but as he stared up at the Theta house, he couldn’t shake the truth. They’d come too far to back out now.
Philip assumed Jack’s “plan” would be something stupid but doable. Like sneaking into the Theta laundry room, bribing a janitor, or maybe finessing a stolen bra from lost-and-found.
What he didn’t expect, as their deadline creeped ever closer, was Jack pulling a battered paperback out of his backpack like he’d just smuggled the Necronomicon out of the library and declaring their troubles were about to be a thing of the past.
“What is that?” Philip asked, eyeing the faded title embossed with moons and symbols.
“Wiccan Rites and Rituals of the Body,” Jack said with a grin so wide it could split his face. “This baby is going to get us in.”
Philip stared. “That’s not a plan you idiot. That’s…props from a bad horror movie.”
“Correction,” Jack said, flipping through pages until he landed on one marked with a sticky note. “It’s a possession spell. All we need is something personal from the Thetas. Hair is perfect. One strand, and we’re golden.”
Philip blinked. “Hair. You want us to pluck a strand off someone’s head, mix it into some potion, and what? Astral-project into their underwear drawer?”
Jack leaned forward, whispering even though there was nobody else around. “Exactly. But into them, not their underwear drawer.”
For a moment, Philip couldn’t even find words. His friend was dead serious. His blue eyes glittered with the manic light of a man who believed in his own insanity. Philip pinched the bridge of his nose. “Jack, you need help.”
“Correction again. We need help, and this is it. Think about it. We don’t sneak around, we don’t break and enter, we just become them. Walk right in the front door. Grab what we need and walk back out again. Easy as pie.”
Philip wanted to laugh. He wanted to tell Jack this was why pledges got expelled, why college urban legends started with two idiots reading a so-called spell book. But something about Jack’s certainty unsettled him.
“How do you even plan to get the hair?” Philip asked, deciding to humor him.
Jack smirked. “You’re partnered with Vanessa in chem lab. I’m with her roommate, Katy. Both of them happen to belong to the Theta Sorority. Boom. Easy.”
Philip’s stomach lurched. Vanessa, the Vanessa, the girl he’d spent the better part of a semester trying not to stare at. She was sharp, funny, gorgeous, and so out of his league it hurt. The idea of stealing a strand of her hair wasn’t just impossible, it was mortifying.
“Jack, if I even look at her hair the wrong way she’ll know. She’ll tell everyone. I’ll be branded as the campus creep for the rest of my life.”
Jack clapped him on the back. “Relax. I’ll take care of mine. You just…fumble your way through like usual. She likes you, right? I’m sure she’s called you sweet before. She won’t even notice.”
Lab that afternoon was a fluorescent blur of glassware and nerves. Bunsen burners hissed, and the sharp scent of acetone hung in the air. Vanessa tied her glossy black hair into a messy bun as she leaned over the counter, the soft hum she made under her breath cutting through the low chatter of other pairs.
Philip adjusted the clamp on their stand and tried to steady his hands, pretending to check the thermometer while sneaking a glance at her profile. The long lashes, the soft curve of her cheek when she smiled. He’d barely worked up the nerve to say something to her, when the door swung open and Ryan Hale strolled in.
Ryan wasn’t a student in their class, he was a teaching assistant who was busy with his Masters. The kind of nerd who looked more like he belonged in a movie poster than a chemistry lab. The Henry Cavill of the campus. Tall, effortlessly confident, his sleeves rolled to the elbow, showing forearms that probably did not belong to someone who spent his evenings doing titration reports.
“Need a hand, Vanessa?” he asked, his voice deep and smooth enough to make the words sound like an inside joke.
Vanessa’s whole face lit up. “Ryan! You’re still hanging around the underclassmen? I thought you were too cool for basic chem.”
“Guess I missed the fun crowd.” He winked, stepping close enough that Philip caught the faint smell of his cologne. Something woodsy and smug. Philip’s stomach twisted. He busied himself pretending to check their notes, but every word between Vanessa and Ryan pulled his focus like a hook through his ribs.
“Still showing off that perfect technique, huh?” Ryan teased, leaning an elbow on the counter. “Could use someone like you to calibrate my disastrous love life.”
Vanessa laughed, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I told you last time, you need better lab partners, not better lines.”
“Maybe I just need one who actually likes me,” he said, voice dipping into something low and knowing. “You still wearing that purple dress that makes everyone else forget the experiment?”
She grinned, shaking her head. “Keep talking, and you’ll set the sprinklers off again.”
Ryan chuckled, backing away with a little salute. “Worth it.”
Philip’s jaw locked so tight it hurt. He shifted his beaker just to make noise. “Vanessa, uh, the solution’s ready,” he muttered.
She turned back, still smiling, a faint pink on her cheeks. “Right, sorry, I got distracted.” The way she said it made Philip want to vanish into the nearest fume hood.
Ryan gave him a nod that felt more like dismissal. “Good work, man. Don’t let her boss you around too much.”
Philip forced a tight smile. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
When Ryan finally moved on to check another table, the tension in Philip’s shoulders eased only slightly. Vanessa was still smiling to herself, twirling her pencil between her fingers. “He’s such a dork,” she said fondly.
“Yeah,” Philip replied, voice flat. “A real geek.”
She glanced at him, oblivious. “You okay? You look kind of pale.”
“Fine,” he lied. His pulse thundered. He hated how obvious it felt. The jealousy, the ridiculous possessiveness over a girl who barely saw him as more than a partner for lab reports.
Meanwhile, across the room, Jack was all charm. Katy, tall, athletic, focused on the work at hand with cool intensity, rolled her eyes at his constant jokes, but she didn’t seem to actively hate him. Jack’s hands moved casually, as if the experiment was background noise to whatever ridiculous story he was spinning.
Philip’s heart pounded. He couldn’t do it. Not to Vanessa. The thought of deliberately stealing a piece of her felt worse than any frat punishment. But then her bun slipped, and a single strand drifted onto the lab bench.
Philip froze and stared at it like it was radioactive. One perfect strand, right there. All he had to do was pick it up without her noticing. His hand twitched. Sweat beaded at his hairline. Vanessa reached for the pipette, and he panicked. He grabbed the strand too quickly, shoving it into his pocket like a thief.
She glanced at him, puzzled. “You good?” she asked.
Philip’s laugh came out strangled. “Yeah. Totally. Fine. Just, science, you know?”
She gave him a strange look, then turned back to the experiment. Across the room, Jack caught his eye and subtly flashed a triumphant thumbs-up. He mouthed, Got it. Philip wanted to throw up.
After class, they met outside, ducking into a quiet corner near the library. Jack pulled a small plastic baggie from his pocket and wiggled it proudly. Katy’s strand of hair gleaming inside. Philip shoved his hands deep into his hoodie, where Vanessa’s strand burned against his palm like contraband.
“This is insane,” he muttered. “If she’d caught me, I’d have been ruined.”
Jack was practically buzzing. “But she didn’t. We’ve got everything. Today, we drink the potion. Tomorrow, we’re legends.”
Philip stared at him, feeling his chest tighten. It wasn’t the frat house that scared him anymore. It was Jack’s unwavering certainty, the gleam in his eye like he’d already crossed a line Philip couldn’t even see.
Back in their room, Jack had cleared his desk, pushing aside textbooks and laundry to make space for the battered paperback and a mess of supplies that looked like they’d been stolen from a Spirit Halloween clearance bin. Mason jars, candles, a bag of salt and something that Philip really, really hoped was red food coloring.
Philip sat on the bed, arms crossed, trying not to look at the plastic bag in his pocket. Inside was Vanessa’s hair, a single dark strand that felt heavier than lead.
“This is ridiculous,” he muttered. “You’re going to set off the fire alarm, and we’ll get kicked out before we even fail the pledge.”
Jack was hunched over the desk, tongue poking from the corner of his mouth as he measured powder into a chipped coffee mug.
“Correction. You’re going to stop being so negative, because we’re going to waltz into Theta’s house like we own it and take our time finding the perfect proof. Something small, sexy and lacy. Then we hand it to Trent and we’re done. Easiest initiation ever and we’re lifelong members of the Delta Epsilon brotherhood.”
Philip shook his head. “You actually believe all the crap coming out of your mouth, don’t you?”
“Yes. Because I know this is going to work.” Jack’s grin was feral. He held up his mug, fizzing with something dark and faintly purple. “And very soon, you’re going to have to swallow all your pessimistic, dismissive words and admit that I’m the GOAT.” Without waiting for a response, he dropped Katy’s wavy strand of hair into the concoction.
Philip looked at his own brew, waiting for him on the desk. It reeked faintly of vinegar and something metallic. “This looks like cough syrup that went bad.”
Jack grabbed the paperback, muttering words under his breath. Latin? Gibberish? Philip couldn’t tell. The candlelight threw shadows across Jack’s face, making him look more unhinged than usual.
“Jack,” Philip said slowly, “You get that if this doesn’t work, we may be drinking poison?”
“Trust me,” Jack said, gesturing meaningfully at Philip’s mug. Those two words had been the prelude to every disaster Philip had lived through with him. The broken window in high school. The near arrest in freshman year. And now this.
Philip sighed, pulled Vanessa’s hair from his pocket, and dropped it into the liquid. It curled and fizzed, dissolving into the mixture like it had never been.
“Bottoms up,” Jack said cheerfully, chugging the contents in one long pull.
Philip raised his mug. The liquid shimmered oddly, like heat ripples above asphalt. He pinched his nose and tossed it back. It burned. Like swallowing melted pennies chased with bleach. His stomach roiled instantly, bile rising up.
“Jesus Christ,” he choked, slamming the cup down. “That’s not magic, that’s battery acid.”
Jack wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, coughing hard, but his grin didn’t falter. “Wait for it.”
Philip blinked and the dorm room folded in on itself. Candlelight bent sideways and the next breath tasted like coffee and paper. He was not in their room anymore. He was sitting at a table under tall windows, late afternoon light spilling amber over open textbooks and half empty cups.
The scent was library quiet and caffeine. Hair slid across his cheek. Definitely not his. It was long and silky. His hands were smaller, nails pink, wrists delicate. The weight on his chest tugged when he breathed. He was looking through Vanessa’s eyes.
Across from him, Katy sat in a chair with a pen in her hand and her mouth parted in a quiet, startled sound that belonged to Jack. “Holy shit,” Jack whispered in Katy’s voice.
Philip’s pulse spiked. “How the hell did I get here?” he asked under his breath, before the realization hit him fully. Jack’s crazy plan worked. He glanced down, eyes bugging at the soft cleavage he encountered. He was on the verge of completely freaking out. “Keep it together,” he muttered to himself. The sound of Vanessa's voice only sent him spiraling further into chaos.
Jack’s grin curled slow and wicked as he looked down at himself and then around them. He started to pull the top of Katy’s tank forward so he could peek at her breasts, before Philip shot him a look that could choke a man at twenty paces.
“Don’t,” Philip hissed. “Katy would never do something like that in public!”
Jack laughed, high and breathy in Katy’s voice. “You’re telling me you’re not even curious? Come on, man. We’re in. This is unreal. Don’t you want to know what it feels like to them when we touch them?”
Philip swallowed hard, trying to calm himself. He gripped the edge of the table to keep himself from spiraling into sensory overload.
“This…this isn’t possible,” he whispered. But the evidence pressed in from every side. The scent of citrus shampoo in his hair, the tug of bra straps against his shoulders, the fullness in his chest when he inhaled. The emptiness where his cock should be.
Philip’s eyes darted anxiously around the library cafe. “We need to get out of here before someone notices something off,” Philip said. “People pick up on the smallest wrong note.” He was terrified that someone would realize the girls were possessed.
He spent way too much time staring at Vanessa, but that didn’t mean he could copy her actions. If anyone watched them closely, they’d know immediately that there were impostors inhabiting Vanessa and Katy.
“We should go back to their room and fool around,” Jack suggested immediately, hands on Katy’s breasts, squeezing idly.
“Jesus, Jack, stop that! They’re in public. We’re in public…”
This was such a mind-fuck. Clearly they were literally possessing Vanessa and Katy’s bodies. Where was Vanessa's consciousness now? Asleep? Aware? He didn’t feel like someone was watching him, so hopefully she had no idea what he was doing. And where were his and Jack’s bodies? Still in their dorm room? Fuck. If he’d known there was any chance of this working, he’d never have gone through with it.
“Come on bestie, let’s go home,” Jack cooed at him. “I’m just dying to get out of these pesky clothes.”
Jack clearly had zero second thoughts about any of this. Then again, Jack had never had a second thought in his life. He rarely had first ones. Philip decided that only made him a bigger idiot for always following his friend’s crazy plans.
Philip took a deep breath, gathered Vanessa’s things and slung her messenger bag over her shoulder before getting up on shaky legs. The plan was to reach Theta house without interacting with anyone who knew the girls.
Vanessa was outgoing and popular, so he kept his eyes trained on the ground to avoid any accidental socializing.
He was doing his best to focus on the mission, but every move betrayed him. Vanessa’s curves shifted differently from his own. Her hips swayed without permission when he walked. The tug of the denim skirt around her thighs was tighter than he was used to, the waistband sitting higher, the soft curtain of hair continuously falling into his eyes. And he kept fighting the urge to run his fingertips over her lustrous, satiny skin.
Philip thanked his lucky stars that it was late afternoon sliding toward evening and most of the Theta girls were either at dinner, in class, or busy with the mixer prep.
The second piece of good luck was the fact that the first year members of the sorority had the downstairs bedrooms and Katy and Vanessa had their names picked out in glittery wooden letters on their door. Which saved him and Jack from being caught wandering aimlessly into someone else’s room and rifling through their underwear.
“Come on,” he hissed at Jack, nearly having heart failure when he heard Vanessa’s sweet, bubbly voice, before remembering it came from his own mouth.
As soon as they entered the room, Philip froze like a deer in headlights.
The room smelled like them. A heady mix of perfume, make-up and detergent. Several photos of Vanessa and Katy were pinned to the notice board. Keys with a little Theta charm lay on a desk. Lip gloss on each bedside table. A folded flyer about the upcoming mixer. Every object made him feel like an intruder in a life that wasn’t his.
Then he looked up and saw his reflection thrown back at him from the floor length mirror fastened to the opposite wall. Vanessa stared back. Her round face framed by shiny black hair, lips glossed in pale pink, eyes wide with Philip’s panic.
“This isn’t possible,” he murmured hoarsely.
Jack crossed the room with Katy’s energetic stride, hair swinging over her shoulder. He leaned down, far too close, eyes alight with mischief.
“Possible or not, it’s happening. And we’ve got hours before it wears off. Wanna play?” Philip’s pulse thundered. He was in Vanessa’s body. Jack was in Katy’s. He had no idea what their real bodies were doing or where, only that they were not here. For the first time since pledging Delta, he realized he was more terrified of his best friend than of any frat brother.
Jack was practically bouncing around like a kid in a candy store, repeatedly mentioning how awesome it is to have tits.
“This is insane,” Philip muttered, running a hand through Vanessa’s long hair. The strands slipped through his fingers like silk, brushing the back of his neck, constantly in his peripheral vision. Every little tickle made him twitch. “I feel like I’m drowning in shampoo.”
Jack snorted. “Yeah. It’s fucking awesome. Look at this.” He shook his head, letting Katy’s long, dark hair fall over her shoulders, framing her face, then bit her lower lip between her teeth and winked at Philip seductively. “Tell me this doesn’t look hot.”
Philip turned away, but not before catching a glimpse of the curve of Katy’s collarbone, the tan line along her shoulder where a sports bra must’ve once sat. He gritted his teeth.
“We’re only here to grab underwear and then we get out. That’s it.” Jack made a distracted sound, which didn’t entirely sound like agreement.
He was testing everything. Squeezing Katy’s biceps and delighting in the subtle muscle definition, stretching out one long leg and flexing her calf muscles, even bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet as if testing how springy she was.
Philip was still focused on the reflection in the mirror. He stepped closer, and the image followed, familiar and foreign all at once. He raised a hand. She raised a hand. Jack appeared beside him, sliding Katy’s body into view. She was taller, leaner, her shoulders broader than Vanessa’s.
Katy was studious and fairly quiet normally, but Jack’s grin warped her into something hungry. A femme fatale in search of her next prey.
“Dude, look at us,” Jack whispered. “We actually pulled it off. We’re fucking hot!”
Philip swallowed, heat crawling up his neck. “We shouldn’t be looking. This is… it’s too much.”
“Too much fun,” Jack corrected. He pressed closer to the mirror, tilting Katy’s head, pursing her lips, sticking out her tongue just to see how it looked. He laughed in delight. “God, the way this mouth moves, it’s unreal.”
Philip tried to drag his eyes away, but curiosity betrayed him. His gaze dipped, catching sight of Vanessa’s chest in the reflection. The neckline of her shirt clung close, clearly showing the outline of her nipples. He bit the inside of his cheek and turned away sharply. He was not going to lift her top and take a peek.
“You’re staring,” Jack teased, slipping behind him and resting Katy’s hands on Vanessa’s hips.
Katy’s reflection loomed over Vanessa’s smaller frame in the mirror. “What’s it like, having the body of your crush? Bet you’ve fantasized about having unfettered access to her before. Touching every inch of her. Running your palms over her perky tits. Cupping her pussy.”
Philip’s face went hot. “Shut up.”
Jack leaned closer, his voice dropping, Katy’s lips brushing dangerously near Philip’s ear. “She’s soft, isn’t she? Curvy. Everything you imagined. And she’s right here. Aching to know what your hands would feel like sliding all over her.”
Philip’s breath caught. He could feel the warmth of Jack’s presence, the whisper of Katy’s hair brushing his cheek. He tried to step away, but Vanessa’s body didn’t obey with the same steadiness as his own.
His hip bumped the desk, throwing him off balance. Jack’s hand shot out, steadying him. Grabbing his hips instead of his arm. Philip stiffened. The pressure of Katy’s palm against Vanessa’s midriff was startling. A hot reminder that this wasn’t a joke anymore.
“Jack,” Philip said, voice low with warning. But Jack only grinned, tightening his grip slightly, fingertips sliding along the hem of Vanessa’s shirt, tickling the strip of skin underneath.
“Relax. We’ve got time before the potion wears off. Why waste it panicking when we could explore?”
Philip shoved his hand away, heart hammering too fast. “We came here for one reason. Don’t fuck this up with your usual bullshit.”
Jack backed off in mock surrender, leaning against the wall and raising Katy’s hands. “Fine, fine. You want to pass up a once in a lifetime opportunity by being a pussy, instead of playing with one, go ahead.”
Philip ignored him and pulled open one of the dresser drawers, coming face to face with the mother lode.
A mass of lace and cotton, bright colors and neutrals, G-strings and briefs and bras, all folded neatly in little piles. He fumbled, pulling out a pair at random, trying not to notice the little bow stitched along the waistband, or theorize about which of the girls it belonged to.
“Got it,” he muttered, stuffing it into his pocket. “We should leave and go and stash this somewhere so we can retrieve it when we’re us again.”
“Plenty of time for that. Are you seriously passing up the opportunity to find out what turns your crush on?”
Philip’s chest heaved, the bra beneath his shirt pinching tighter with the movement. Every tiny sensation was amplified in this shape. He had no idea girls had such sensitive bodies. If Vanessa's neck and shoulders were this responsive to stimuli, what about the more… delicate areas?
Jack leaned against the wall, watching his friend closely. Katy’s arms crossed under her breasts, pushing them up in a way that made Philip avert his eyes.
“You really think you can ignore this?” Jack asked softly. “Ignore her?”
Philip didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Because the truth was, even as he tried to ignore it, every nerve in Vanessa’s body was alive with a tingling feeling he couldn’t shut off.
He told himself he wouldn’t look at the mirror again. That he had the underwear and all that was left to do was wait for the potion to burn off. But every time he moved, Vanessa’s body reminded him he wasn’t himself. The way her thighs brushed together when he shifted his stance. The heat trapped in the curve between her breasts. The way her nipples tightened when she saw the way Katy stared at her. The sudden, sharp contraction of pleasure between her legs.
Each detail was louder than thought. And Jack wouldn’t fucking give him space to breathe.
“You’re wound too tight,” Jack murmured, stepping closer again. Katy’s taller body loomed behind him, all lean lines and toned strength. He set Katy’s hands on Vanessa's shoulders from behind, massaging with deliberate slowness.
“Loosen up.”
Philip froze. The sensation was alien. Slender fingers pressing into the slope of Vanessa’s shoulders, kneading muscle softer than his own. His back arched without meaning to, chest pushing forward. He could feel the heat in his panties and almost smell the pheromones in the air.
“Jack-”
“Shh.”
Katy’s breath ghosted over his ear, warm and taunting. “Allow her to feel it. Her body isn’t fighting me. She likes this.”
Philip hated the way heat rippled through him at the words. The way Vanessa’s nipples pebbled instantly, turning aching and hard beneath her bra when Jack’s thumbs kept sensually running across her muscles.
He tried to step away, but Jack’s grip on her waist drew her back. Katy’s chest pressed flush against Vanessa’s back. Firm breasts molding against soft skin. Philip gasped, a small, betraying sound.
“That’s it,” Jack whispered, lips brushing the shell of Vanessa's ear. “You feel that, don’t you? How different it is?”
Philip bit his lip hard. But it didn’t stop his body from reacting. His chest ached with sensitivity, every brush of fabric against his nipples sparking hot shivers. His hips shifted against Jack’s hold, searching without meaning to. His ass pressing back, almost expecting to feel an erect cock there, relaxing when all he encountered was softness.
Jack slid one hand lower, over Vanessa’s flat stomach, fingertips grazing the waist of her denim skirt. Philip’s pulse spiked. He could feel the shape of her body in ways he’d only imagined.
“God, you’re actually shaking,” Jack teased. He pressed his palm harder, dragging upward until he cupped one of Vanessa’s breasts through her shirt. His hand molded perfectly to the curve, fingers sinking in slightly before closing over the nipples and pinching.
Philip jolted like he’d been shocked. The pressure sent heat exploding through him. So much sharper than he ever imagined. A moan slipped out, broken and needy, before he could stop it. Jack laughed low, his voice a husky echo in Katy’s mouth.
“I knew it. You’re loving this.”
Philip shook his head, but his body betrayed him. Vanessa’s breasts were soft in his own hands when Jack pulled them into place, squeezing and kneading.
The ache in his chest spread downward, a molten restlessness that coiled between his legs, where there was no longer any familiar weight. Only a slick, sensitive heat that made his thighs tense. Jack leaned closer, kissing the side of Vanessa's neck.
Katy’s lips left tingling sparks against her skin. He gasped again, tilting his head back without meaning to, giving Jack room to explore.
“You always wanted to know what she felt like, didn’t you?” Jack murmured between kisses. “Now you do. Every inch. Every little twitch. If you ever get the chance, you could make her cum in minutes.”
Philip squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t want to want this. But Vanessa’s body was singing beneath his skin, her curves hypersensitive to every touch, every squeeze. When Jack dragged his hand lower, cupping the swell of her ass through denim, Philip’s knees went weak. He stumbled, and they tumbled together onto the nearest bed. Vanessa’s smaller frame pinned beneath Katy’s.
Jack landed on top, grinning down, hair falling in a dark curtain around their faces. “Just lie back and enjoy it,” he said, voice husky. “I’ll do all the work and you can take notes in your head.”
Katy’s hips pressed down, grinding just enough for Philip to feel the press of her pussy against Vanessa's. The pleasure nearly made him see stars. What would it feel like if Katy actually touched her clit? Dragged her tongue over it? Sucked it between those soft lips?
Philip whimpered, his hands trapped between them, pressed against the curves of Katy’s sides. He could feel the warmth of skin through fabric. Every nerve screamed with arousal. Jack leaned down, lips hovering over his.
“Tell me you don’t want this.”
Philip’s heart thundered. His lips parted, and he didn’t know if he was going to say I don’t or kiss Katy. His pulse roared in his ears. He could feel the weight of Vanessa’s chest rising and falling too fast, her heartbeat thundering in her ribs like a trapped animal.
Jack hovered over him, Katy’s taller frame caging him against the mattress, their borrowed hair spilling together in a curtain that smelled faintly of fruit.
“This isn’t funny anymore,” Philip rasped, but his voice cracked, betraying the tremor of arousal under the words.
Jack smirked. “I’m not joking.” He lowered Katy’s body until their breasts touched, brushing Katy’s peaked nipples against Vanessa’s rock hard ones. The friction alone made Philip gasp, heat shooting through him. It wasn’t like pressing chest-to-chest with another guy.
The give, the shape, the electric sting of nipples touching, every detail was overwhelming. He had no idea breasts were so receptive to the slightest touch. Vanessa's wasn’t even uncovered and they made him squirm.
“God,” he groaned before he could stop himself. Jack’s grin widened in satisfaction.
“Feels good, doesn’t it? Every touch goes both ways. You squeeze her,” He pressed Katy’s hand down onto one of Vanessa’s breasts, forcing Philip to feel it fully, “And you are her.”
Philip arched into the contact despite himself. His hands moved up without any conscious thought. The weight of her breast in his palm, the nipple reacting instantly under his touch, each tiny spark flooded through him in a way his male body never reacted to anything but pressure on his cock.
He kneaded once, twice, and heat surged low in his stomach, between his thighs, turning his panties damp. His back bowed off the mattress, mouth falling open in a helpless sound.
Jack kissed him then. Katy’s mouth grazing Vanessa's jaw, the corner of her mouth, teasing as it moved around.
Every brush of her sweet lips left a wet, burning mark. Philip turned away, breathless, but Jack followed, biting gently at Vanessa’s neck until Philip gasped.
His thighs clenched hard. Something slick and molten was spreading there, pulsing with every beat of his heart. He could feel the absence, the soft, tender heat where his cock would usually be straining.
The pressure of denim against it only sharpened the ache. He needed Jack to touch Vanessa's pussy. He needed pressure. Jack ground down lightly and Philip bucked up helplessly, his own hands gripping Katy’s hips tight, chasing the friction he’d die without.
“Stop,” he panted, but the word broke halfway, turning into a moan. Jack chuckled low.
“Your body doesn’t want me to stop.” He kissed Vanessa again. Her lips plump, glossy, trembling beneath Katy’s teasing press. Philip’s breath hitched and his tongue flicked nervously against the edge of his teeth.
Every nerve screamed to close the distance, to taste what it felt like to kiss as a girl, to be kissed as a girl. Jack deepened the grind of their hips. Philip’s breath hitched sharply, a helpless whimper leaving his throat.
Heat surged through his belly, down his thighs, the ache between his legs swelling into a throbbing need. He arched against Katy, nails digging into her waist. There’s no way he was going to be able to say no. Jack had to make him cum.
Jack pulled back slightly, asking with twinkling eyes, “Shall we see how good Katy is at eating pussy?”
Philip knew what his answer should be, but his entire body was throbbing, yes yes yes.
Their mouths hovered a fraction apart, breaths mingling. The world narrowed to that single point of contact waiting to happen. Philip’s lips parted, ready, needy.
“Vanessa? Katy?” The voice cut through the fog like a blade, followed by the rap of knuckles on the door.
Philip’s eyes flew wide. Jack froze above him, both of them panting hard. “Vanessa, Katy!” another girl called from the hall. “We need you for the final discussions for tonight’s mixer!”
Silence. Only their ragged breaths, the hot press of bodies still locked together. Jack swore under his breath, rolling off Vanessa reluctantly.
“Just when things were about to get really good.”
Philip scrambled upright, Vanessa’s hair tangling in his face, chest heaving, nipples still hard and aching. He shoved shaky hands through the strands, trying to compose himself, though the slick heat between his thighs throbbed in open defiance.
He knew they should have kept their heads. If they let curiosity drag them off course they would blow the whole point of the night. The spell would end when it wanted and they had no idea when that would be.
Another knock. “Come on, you two! Hurry up! Megan saw you get in earlier, I know you’re in there.”
Jack smirked, tugging Katy’s tank top straight as if they hadn’t just been seconds from fucking each other into oblivion.
“Guess there’s more fun ahead. Don’t think you’re off the hook though, I’m still going to eat that pussy later and I fully expect to get repaid in kind.”
Philip sat frozen, heart still hammering, his mind spinning so fast he worried he might throw up.
With the sorority girls having already taken well known countermeasures to deal with any would be panty thieves, he thinks the chances of completing the challenge are near zero.
However, when his best friend Jack claims to have a plan involving a little magic and burrowing the bodies of his crush Vanessa and her roommate Katy, he knows he is in for a long night ahead when things don't exactly end up going to plan...
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 floor of Delta Epsilon’s house was sticky.
Beer, cheap cologne, and stale pizza had seeped into the carpet like a second skin, and Philip had the honor of scrubbing it clean while half a dozen brothers lounged on couches watching basketball highlights.
“Missed a spot,” one of them called, deliberately tilting a red Solo cup so that the last of his drink bled out onto the carpet inches from Philip’s sponge.
Philip clenched his jaw. He’d been degraded all semester, fetching fast food at three in the morning, running errands that skirted the edge of being criminal, serving as human furniture during drinking games. He told himself it would be worth it. Delta Epsilon’s parties were legendary, the kind of place girls lined up to get into. More importantly, alumni connections meant a shot at internships that led to real careers. You suffered now, you cashed in later.
Jack, naturally, thrived. He was perched on the arm of a sofa, balancing a tray of wings for two seniors, grinning like the humiliation was a party of its own.
“How’s that knee grease holding up, Phil?” he teased, eyebrows bouncing. Philip muttered something under his breath, pressing the sponge hard enough to leave his knuckles white. He’d thought pledging with his best friend would make things easier. Instead, Jack’s bottomless energy only made Philip feel like the boring one, always one step away from quitting.
The pledge master, Trent, finally called them over once the brothers had eaten their fill.
“You’ve made it further than many,” he said, addressing both Philip and Jack while tapping the ash off his cigar. “Scrubbing toilets, babysitting drunk brothers, taking whatever punishment we throw at you, you did it all without complaint. But Delta doesn’t hand out membership for free. There’s one last hurdle.”
Jack’s eyes lit up, while Philip felt his stomach knot. Trent leaned forward. “You’ve got until Saturday morning to bring us proof that you’re worthy of being Delta Epsilons. And by proof, I mean the underwear of one of the Theta sisters across the street.”
A ripple of laughter passed through the room. Someone whistled. Another shouted, “Better hope they’re lace!”
Philip’s face burned hot. He’d expected something brutal. A dangerous stunt, or maybe even a tattoo or branding, not…this. Not something that felt like the set-up to a police record for being a creep.
Jack, of course, grinned like he’d just been handed a golden ticket. “Piece of cake,” he said.
“Piece of felony,” Philip muttered.
Trent ignored the comment. “You get caught, that’s your problem. Theta girls are sick of pranks. They’ll eat you alive if they catch you sneaking around. Fail, and you’ll have to re-pledge next semester, if we even let you back in. Succeed, and you’ll be full brothers by sunrise.”
He flicked his cigar ash into an empty beer can, and the matter was closed. Philip and Jack were dismissed like servants, slipping out into the cool night air. The frat house behind them thumped with bass as the next round of drinking games began.
Across the street, the Theta house glowed with warm yellow light, its windows alive with the silhouettes of girls laughing, moving and living in a world that felt forbidden.
Philip shoved his hands into his hoodie pocket. “This is insane. They want us to break into a sorority house. Forget expulsion, that’s actual jail time if we’re caught and reported.”
Jack slung an arm around his shoulder, grinning as if he hadn’t heard a word. “Come on, man. It’s tradition. Everybody who ever wore Delta letters has done something crazy like this. We’ll figure it out. We always do.”
Philip shrugged him off. “You mean you’ll figure it out. And drag me with you.”
Jack’s grin widened. “Exactly. Don’t worry, I’ve got a plan.” That phrase, I’ve got a plan, was the single most dangerous thing Jack could say. Philip knew better, but as he stared up at the Theta house, he couldn’t shake the truth. They’d come too far to back out now.
Philip assumed Jack’s “plan” would be something stupid but doable. Like sneaking into the Theta laundry room, bribing a janitor, or maybe finessing a stolen bra from lost-and-found.
What he didn’t expect, as their deadline creeped ever closer, was Jack pulling a battered paperback out of his backpack like he’d just smuggled the Necronomicon out of the library and declaring their troubles were about to be a thing of the past.
“What is that?” Philip asked, eyeing the faded title embossed with moons and symbols.
“Wiccan Rites and Rituals of the Body,” Jack said with a grin so wide it could split his face. “This baby is going to get us in.”
Philip stared. “That’s not a plan you idiot. That’s…props from a bad horror movie.”
“Correction,” Jack said, flipping through pages until he landed on one marked with a sticky note. “It’s a possession spell. All we need is something personal from the Thetas. Hair is perfect. One strand, and we’re golden.”
Philip blinked. “Hair. You want us to pluck a strand off someone’s head, mix it into some potion, and what? Astral-project into their underwear drawer?”
Jack leaned forward, whispering even though there was nobody else around. “Exactly. But into them, not their underwear drawer.”
For a moment, Philip couldn’t even find words. His friend was dead serious. His blue eyes glittered with the manic light of a man who believed in his own insanity. Philip pinched the bridge of his nose. “Jack, you need help.”
“Correction again. We need help, and this is it. Think about it. We don’t sneak around, we don’t break and enter, we just become them. Walk right in the front door. Grab what we need and walk back out again. Easy as pie.”
Philip wanted to laugh. He wanted to tell Jack this was why pledges got expelled, why college urban legends started with two idiots reading a so-called spell book. But something about Jack’s certainty unsettled him.
“How do you even plan to get the hair?” Philip asked, deciding to humor him.
Jack smirked. “You’re partnered with Vanessa in chem lab. I’m with her roommate, Katy. Both of them happen to belong to the Theta Sorority. Boom. Easy.”
Philip’s stomach lurched. Vanessa, the Vanessa, the girl he’d spent the better part of a semester trying not to stare at. She was sharp, funny, gorgeous, and so out of his league it hurt. The idea of stealing a strand of her hair wasn’t just impossible, it was mortifying.
“Jack, if I even look at her hair the wrong way she’ll know. She’ll tell everyone. I’ll be branded as the campus creep for the rest of my life.”
Jack clapped him on the back. “Relax. I’ll take care of mine. You just…fumble your way through like usual. She likes you, right? I’m sure she’s called you sweet before. She won’t even notice.”
Lab that afternoon was a fluorescent blur of glassware and nerves. Bunsen burners hissed, and the sharp scent of acetone hung in the air. Vanessa tied her glossy black hair into a messy bun as she leaned over the counter, the soft hum she made under her breath cutting through the low chatter of other pairs.
Philip adjusted the clamp on their stand and tried to steady his hands, pretending to check the thermometer while sneaking a glance at her profile. The long lashes, the soft curve of her cheek when she smiled. He’d barely worked up the nerve to say something to her, when the door swung open and Ryan Hale strolled in.
Ryan wasn’t a student in their class, he was a teaching assistant who was busy with his Masters. The kind of nerd who looked more like he belonged in a movie poster than a chemistry lab. The Henry Cavill of the campus. Tall, effortlessly confident, his sleeves rolled to the elbow, showing forearms that probably did not belong to someone who spent his evenings doing titration reports.
“Need a hand, Vanessa?” he asked, his voice deep and smooth enough to make the words sound like an inside joke.
Vanessa’s whole face lit up. “Ryan! You’re still hanging around the underclassmen? I thought you were too cool for basic chem.”
“Guess I missed the fun crowd.” He winked, stepping close enough that Philip caught the faint smell of his cologne. Something woodsy and smug. Philip’s stomach twisted. He busied himself pretending to check their notes, but every word between Vanessa and Ryan pulled his focus like a hook through his ribs.
“Still showing off that perfect technique, huh?” Ryan teased, leaning an elbow on the counter. “Could use someone like you to calibrate my disastrous love life.”
Vanessa laughed, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I told you last time, you need better lab partners, not better lines.”
“Maybe I just need one who actually likes me,” he said, voice dipping into something low and knowing. “You still wearing that purple dress that makes everyone else forget the experiment?”
She grinned, shaking her head. “Keep talking, and you’ll set the sprinklers off again.”
Ryan chuckled, backing away with a little salute. “Worth it.”
Philip’s jaw locked so tight it hurt. He shifted his beaker just to make noise. “Vanessa, uh, the solution’s ready,” he muttered.
She turned back, still smiling, a faint pink on her cheeks. “Right, sorry, I got distracted.” The way she said it made Philip want to vanish into the nearest fume hood.
Ryan gave him a nod that felt more like dismissal. “Good work, man. Don’t let her boss you around too much.”
Philip forced a tight smile. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
When Ryan finally moved on to check another table, the tension in Philip’s shoulders eased only slightly. Vanessa was still smiling to herself, twirling her pencil between her fingers. “He’s such a dork,” she said fondly.
“Yeah,” Philip replied, voice flat. “A real geek.”
She glanced at him, oblivious. “You okay? You look kind of pale.”
“Fine,” he lied. His pulse thundered. He hated how obvious it felt. The jealousy, the ridiculous possessiveness over a girl who barely saw him as more than a partner for lab reports.
Meanwhile, across the room, Jack was all charm. Katy, tall, athletic, focused on the work at hand with cool intensity, rolled her eyes at his constant jokes, but she didn’t seem to actively hate him. Jack’s hands moved casually, as if the experiment was background noise to whatever ridiculous story he was spinning.
Philip’s heart pounded. He couldn’t do it. Not to Vanessa. The thought of deliberately stealing a piece of her felt worse than any frat punishment. But then her bun slipped, and a single strand drifted onto the lab bench.
Philip froze and stared at it like it was radioactive. One perfect strand, right there. All he had to do was pick it up without her noticing. His hand twitched. Sweat beaded at his hairline. Vanessa reached for the pipette, and he panicked. He grabbed the strand too quickly, shoving it into his pocket like a thief.
She glanced at him, puzzled. “You good?” she asked.
Philip’s laugh came out strangled. “Yeah. Totally. Fine. Just, science, you know?”
She gave him a strange look, then turned back to the experiment. Across the room, Jack caught his eye and subtly flashed a triumphant thumbs-up. He mouthed, Got it. Philip wanted to throw up.
After class, they met outside, ducking into a quiet corner near the library. Jack pulled a small plastic baggie from his pocket and wiggled it proudly. Katy’s strand of hair gleaming inside. Philip shoved his hands deep into his hoodie, where Vanessa’s strand burned against his palm like contraband.
“This is insane,” he muttered. “If she’d caught me, I’d have been ruined.”
Jack was practically buzzing. “But she didn’t. We’ve got everything. Today, we drink the potion. Tomorrow, we’re legends.”
Philip stared at him, feeling his chest tighten. It wasn’t the frat house that scared him anymore. It was Jack’s unwavering certainty, the gleam in his eye like he’d already crossed a line Philip couldn’t even see.
Back in their room, Jack had cleared his desk, pushing aside textbooks and laundry to make space for the battered paperback and a mess of supplies that looked like they’d been stolen from a Spirit Halloween clearance bin. Mason jars, candles, a bag of salt and something that Philip really, really hoped was red food coloring.
Philip sat on the bed, arms crossed, trying not to look at the plastic bag in his pocket. Inside was Vanessa’s hair, a single dark strand that felt heavier than lead.
“This is ridiculous,” he muttered. “You’re going to set off the fire alarm, and we’ll get kicked out before we even fail the pledge.”
Jack was hunched over the desk, tongue poking from the corner of his mouth as he measured powder into a chipped coffee mug.
“Correction. You’re going to stop being so negative, because we’re going to waltz into Theta’s house like we own it and take our time finding the perfect proof. Something small, sexy and lacy. Then we hand it to Trent and we’re done. Easiest initiation ever and we’re lifelong members of the Delta Epsilon brotherhood.”
Philip shook his head. “You actually believe all the crap coming out of your mouth, don’t you?”
“Yes. Because I know this is going to work.” Jack’s grin was feral. He held up his mug, fizzing with something dark and faintly purple. “And very soon, you’re going to have to swallow all your pessimistic, dismissive words and admit that I’m the GOAT.” Without waiting for a response, he dropped Katy’s wavy strand of hair into the concoction.
Philip looked at his own brew, waiting for him on the desk. It reeked faintly of vinegar and something metallic. “This looks like cough syrup that went bad.”
Jack grabbed the paperback, muttering words under his breath. Latin? Gibberish? Philip couldn’t tell. The candlelight threw shadows across Jack’s face, making him look more unhinged than usual.
“Jack,” Philip said slowly, “You get that if this doesn’t work, we may be drinking poison?”
“Trust me,” Jack said, gesturing meaningfully at Philip’s mug. Those two words had been the prelude to every disaster Philip had lived through with him. The broken window in high school. The near arrest in freshman year. And now this.
Philip sighed, pulled Vanessa’s hair from his pocket, and dropped it into the liquid. It curled and fizzed, dissolving into the mixture like it had never been.
“Bottoms up,” Jack said cheerfully, chugging the contents in one long pull.
Philip raised his mug. The liquid shimmered oddly, like heat ripples above asphalt. He pinched his nose and tossed it back. It burned. Like swallowing melted pennies chased with bleach. His stomach roiled instantly, bile rising up.
“Jesus Christ,” he choked, slamming the cup down. “That’s not magic, that’s battery acid.”
Jack wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, coughing hard, but his grin didn’t falter. “Wait for it.”
Philip blinked and the dorm room folded in on itself. Candlelight bent sideways and the next breath tasted like coffee and paper. He was not in their room anymore. He was sitting at a table under tall windows, late afternoon light spilling amber over open textbooks and half empty cups.
The scent was library quiet and caffeine. Hair slid across his cheek. Definitely not his. It was long and silky. His hands were smaller, nails pink, wrists delicate. The weight on his chest tugged when he breathed. He was looking through Vanessa’s eyes.
Across from him, Katy sat in a chair with a pen in her hand and her mouth parted in a quiet, startled sound that belonged to Jack. “Holy shit,” Jack whispered in Katy’s voice.
Philip’s pulse spiked. “How the hell did I get here?” he asked under his breath, before the realization hit him fully. Jack’s crazy plan worked. He glanced down, eyes bugging at the soft cleavage he encountered. He was on the verge of completely freaking out. “Keep it together,” he muttered to himself. The sound of Vanessa's voice only sent him spiraling further into chaos.
Jack’s grin curled slow and wicked as he looked down at himself and then around them. He started to pull the top of Katy’s tank forward so he could peek at her breasts, before Philip shot him a look that could choke a man at twenty paces.
“Don’t,” Philip hissed. “Katy would never do something like that in public!”
Jack laughed, high and breathy in Katy’s voice. “You’re telling me you’re not even curious? Come on, man. We’re in. This is unreal. Don’t you want to know what it feels like to them when we touch them?”
Philip swallowed hard, trying to calm himself. He gripped the edge of the table to keep himself from spiraling into sensory overload.
“This…this isn’t possible,” he whispered. But the evidence pressed in from every side. The scent of citrus shampoo in his hair, the tug of bra straps against his shoulders, the fullness in his chest when he inhaled. The emptiness where his cock should be.
Philip’s eyes darted anxiously around the library cafe. “We need to get out of here before someone notices something off,” Philip said. “People pick up on the smallest wrong note.” He was terrified that someone would realize the girls were possessed.
He spent way too much time staring at Vanessa, but that didn’t mean he could copy her actions. If anyone watched them closely, they’d know immediately that there were impostors inhabiting Vanessa and Katy.
“We should go back to their room and fool around,” Jack suggested immediately, hands on Katy’s breasts, squeezing idly.
“Jesus, Jack, stop that! They’re in public. We’re in public…”
This was such a mind-fuck. Clearly they were literally possessing Vanessa and Katy’s bodies. Where was Vanessa's consciousness now? Asleep? Aware? He didn’t feel like someone was watching him, so hopefully she had no idea what he was doing. And where were his and Jack’s bodies? Still in their dorm room? Fuck. If he’d known there was any chance of this working, he’d never have gone through with it.
“Come on bestie, let’s go home,” Jack cooed at him. “I’m just dying to get out of these pesky clothes.”
Jack clearly had zero second thoughts about any of this. Then again, Jack had never had a second thought in his life. He rarely had first ones. Philip decided that only made him a bigger idiot for always following his friend’s crazy plans.
Philip took a deep breath, gathered Vanessa’s things and slung her messenger bag over her shoulder before getting up on shaky legs. The plan was to reach Theta house without interacting with anyone who knew the girls.
Vanessa was outgoing and popular, so he kept his eyes trained on the ground to avoid any accidental socializing.
He was doing his best to focus on the mission, but every move betrayed him. Vanessa’s curves shifted differently from his own. Her hips swayed without permission when he walked. The tug of the denim skirt around her thighs was tighter than he was used to, the waistband sitting higher, the soft curtain of hair continuously falling into his eyes. And he kept fighting the urge to run his fingertips over her lustrous, satiny skin.
Philip thanked his lucky stars that it was late afternoon sliding toward evening and most of the Theta girls were either at dinner, in class, or busy with the mixer prep.
The second piece of good luck was the fact that the first year members of the sorority had the downstairs bedrooms and Katy and Vanessa had their names picked out in glittery wooden letters on their door. Which saved him and Jack from being caught wandering aimlessly into someone else’s room and rifling through their underwear.
“Come on,” he hissed at Jack, nearly having heart failure when he heard Vanessa’s sweet, bubbly voice, before remembering it came from his own mouth.
As soon as they entered the room, Philip froze like a deer in headlights.
The room smelled like them. A heady mix of perfume, make-up and detergent. Several photos of Vanessa and Katy were pinned to the notice board. Keys with a little Theta charm lay on a desk. Lip gloss on each bedside table. A folded flyer about the upcoming mixer. Every object made him feel like an intruder in a life that wasn’t his.
Then he looked up and saw his reflection thrown back at him from the floor length mirror fastened to the opposite wall. Vanessa stared back. Her round face framed by shiny black hair, lips glossed in pale pink, eyes wide with Philip’s panic.
“This isn’t possible,” he murmured hoarsely.
Jack crossed the room with Katy’s energetic stride, hair swinging over her shoulder. He leaned down, far too close, eyes alight with mischief.
“Possible or not, it’s happening. And we’ve got hours before it wears off. Wanna play?” Philip’s pulse thundered. He was in Vanessa’s body. Jack was in Katy’s. He had no idea what their real bodies were doing or where, only that they were not here. For the first time since pledging Delta, he realized he was more terrified of his best friend than of any frat brother.
Jack was practically bouncing around like a kid in a candy store, repeatedly mentioning how awesome it is to have tits.
“This is insane,” Philip muttered, running a hand through Vanessa’s long hair. The strands slipped through his fingers like silk, brushing the back of his neck, constantly in his peripheral vision. Every little tickle made him twitch. “I feel like I’m drowning in shampoo.”
Jack snorted. “Yeah. It’s fucking awesome. Look at this.” He shook his head, letting Katy’s long, dark hair fall over her shoulders, framing her face, then bit her lower lip between her teeth and winked at Philip seductively. “Tell me this doesn’t look hot.”
Philip turned away, but not before catching a glimpse of the curve of Katy’s collarbone, the tan line along her shoulder where a sports bra must’ve once sat. He gritted his teeth.
“We’re only here to grab underwear and then we get out. That’s it.” Jack made a distracted sound, which didn’t entirely sound like agreement.
He was testing everything. Squeezing Katy’s biceps and delighting in the subtle muscle definition, stretching out one long leg and flexing her calf muscles, even bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet as if testing how springy she was.
Philip was still focused on the reflection in the mirror. He stepped closer, and the image followed, familiar and foreign all at once. He raised a hand. She raised a hand. Jack appeared beside him, sliding Katy’s body into view. She was taller, leaner, her shoulders broader than Vanessa’s.
Katy was studious and fairly quiet normally, but Jack’s grin warped her into something hungry. A femme fatale in search of her next prey.
“Dude, look at us,” Jack whispered. “We actually pulled it off. We’re fucking hot!”
Philip swallowed, heat crawling up his neck. “We shouldn’t be looking. This is… it’s too much.”
“Too much fun,” Jack corrected. He pressed closer to the mirror, tilting Katy’s head, pursing her lips, sticking out her tongue just to see how it looked. He laughed in delight. “God, the way this mouth moves, it’s unreal.”
Philip tried to drag his eyes away, but curiosity betrayed him. His gaze dipped, catching sight of Vanessa’s chest in the reflection. The neckline of her shirt clung close, clearly showing the outline of her nipples. He bit the inside of his cheek and turned away sharply. He was not going to lift her top and take a peek.
“You’re staring,” Jack teased, slipping behind him and resting Katy’s hands on Vanessa’s hips.
Katy’s reflection loomed over Vanessa’s smaller frame in the mirror. “What’s it like, having the body of your crush? Bet you’ve fantasized about having unfettered access to her before. Touching every inch of her. Running your palms over her perky tits. Cupping her pussy.”
Philip’s face went hot. “Shut up.”
Jack leaned closer, his voice dropping, Katy’s lips brushing dangerously near Philip’s ear. “She’s soft, isn’t she? Curvy. Everything you imagined. And she’s right here. Aching to know what your hands would feel like sliding all over her.”
Philip’s breath caught. He could feel the warmth of Jack’s presence, the whisper of Katy’s hair brushing his cheek. He tried to step away, but Vanessa’s body didn’t obey with the same steadiness as his own.
His hip bumped the desk, throwing him off balance. Jack’s hand shot out, steadying him. Grabbing his hips instead of his arm. Philip stiffened. The pressure of Katy’s palm against Vanessa’s midriff was startling. A hot reminder that this wasn’t a joke anymore.
“Jack,” Philip said, voice low with warning. But Jack only grinned, tightening his grip slightly, fingertips sliding along the hem of Vanessa’s shirt, tickling the strip of skin underneath.
“Relax. We’ve got time before the potion wears off. Why waste it panicking when we could explore?”
Philip shoved his hand away, heart hammering too fast. “We came here for one reason. Don’t fuck this up with your usual bullshit.”
Jack backed off in mock surrender, leaning against the wall and raising Katy’s hands. “Fine, fine. You want to pass up a once in a lifetime opportunity by being a pussy, instead of playing with one, go ahead.”
Philip ignored him and pulled open one of the dresser drawers, coming face to face with the mother lode.
A mass of lace and cotton, bright colors and neutrals, G-strings and briefs and bras, all folded neatly in little piles. He fumbled, pulling out a pair at random, trying not to notice the little bow stitched along the waistband, or theorize about which of the girls it belonged to.
“Got it,” he muttered, stuffing it into his pocket. “We should leave and go and stash this somewhere so we can retrieve it when we’re us again.”
“Plenty of time for that. Are you seriously passing up the opportunity to find out what turns your crush on?”
Philip’s chest heaved, the bra beneath his shirt pinching tighter with the movement. Every tiny sensation was amplified in this shape. He had no idea girls had such sensitive bodies. If Vanessa's neck and shoulders were this responsive to stimuli, what about the more… delicate areas?
Jack leaned against the wall, watching his friend closely. Katy’s arms crossed under her breasts, pushing them up in a way that made Philip avert his eyes.
“You really think you can ignore this?” Jack asked softly. “Ignore her?”
Philip didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Because the truth was, even as he tried to ignore it, every nerve in Vanessa’s body was alive with a tingling feeling he couldn’t shut off.
He told himself he wouldn’t look at the mirror again. That he had the underwear and all that was left to do was wait for the potion to burn off. But every time he moved, Vanessa’s body reminded him he wasn’t himself. The way her thighs brushed together when he shifted his stance. The heat trapped in the curve between her breasts. The way her nipples tightened when she saw the way Katy stared at her. The sudden, sharp contraction of pleasure between her legs.
Each detail was louder than thought. And Jack wouldn’t fucking give him space to breathe.
“You’re wound too tight,” Jack murmured, stepping closer again. Katy’s taller body loomed behind him, all lean lines and toned strength. He set Katy’s hands on Vanessa's shoulders from behind, massaging with deliberate slowness.
“Loosen up.”
Philip froze. The sensation was alien. Slender fingers pressing into the slope of Vanessa’s shoulders, kneading muscle softer than his own. His back arched without meaning to, chest pushing forward. He could feel the heat in his panties and almost smell the pheromones in the air.
“Jack-”
“Shh.”
Katy’s breath ghosted over his ear, warm and taunting. “Allow her to feel it. Her body isn’t fighting me. She likes this.”
Philip hated the way heat rippled through him at the words. The way Vanessa’s nipples pebbled instantly, turning aching and hard beneath her bra when Jack’s thumbs kept sensually running across her muscles.
He tried to step away, but Jack’s grip on her waist drew her back. Katy’s chest pressed flush against Vanessa’s back. Firm breasts molding against soft skin. Philip gasped, a small, betraying sound.
“That’s it,” Jack whispered, lips brushing the shell of Vanessa's ear. “You feel that, don’t you? How different it is?”
Philip bit his lip hard. But it didn’t stop his body from reacting. His chest ached with sensitivity, every brush of fabric against his nipples sparking hot shivers. His hips shifted against Jack’s hold, searching without meaning to. His ass pressing back, almost expecting to feel an erect cock there, relaxing when all he encountered was softness.
Jack slid one hand lower, over Vanessa’s flat stomach, fingertips grazing the waist of her denim skirt. Philip’s pulse spiked. He could feel the shape of her body in ways he’d only imagined.
“God, you’re actually shaking,” Jack teased. He pressed his palm harder, dragging upward until he cupped one of Vanessa’s breasts through her shirt. His hand molded perfectly to the curve, fingers sinking in slightly before closing over the nipples and pinching.
Philip jolted like he’d been shocked. The pressure sent heat exploding through him. So much sharper than he ever imagined. A moan slipped out, broken and needy, before he could stop it. Jack laughed low, his voice a husky echo in Katy’s mouth.
“I knew it. You’re loving this.”
Philip shook his head, but his body betrayed him. Vanessa’s breasts were soft in his own hands when Jack pulled them into place, squeezing and kneading.
The ache in his chest spread downward, a molten restlessness that coiled between his legs, where there was no longer any familiar weight. Only a slick, sensitive heat that made his thighs tense. Jack leaned closer, kissing the side of Vanessa's neck.
Katy’s lips left tingling sparks against her skin. He gasped again, tilting his head back without meaning to, giving Jack room to explore.
“You always wanted to know what she felt like, didn’t you?” Jack murmured between kisses. “Now you do. Every inch. Every little twitch. If you ever get the chance, you could make her cum in minutes.”
Philip squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t want to want this. But Vanessa’s body was singing beneath his skin, her curves hypersensitive to every touch, every squeeze. When Jack dragged his hand lower, cupping the swell of her ass through denim, Philip’s knees went weak. He stumbled, and they tumbled together onto the nearest bed. Vanessa’s smaller frame pinned beneath Katy’s.
Jack landed on top, grinning down, hair falling in a dark curtain around their faces. “Just lie back and enjoy it,” he said, voice husky. “I’ll do all the work and you can take notes in your head.”
Katy’s hips pressed down, grinding just enough for Philip to feel the press of her pussy against Vanessa's. The pleasure nearly made him see stars. What would it feel like if Katy actually touched her clit? Dragged her tongue over it? Sucked it between those soft lips?
Philip whimpered, his hands trapped between them, pressed against the curves of Katy’s sides. He could feel the warmth of skin through fabric. Every nerve screamed with arousal. Jack leaned down, lips hovering over his.
“Tell me you don’t want this.”
Philip’s heart thundered. His lips parted, and he didn’t know if he was going to say I don’t or kiss Katy. His pulse roared in his ears. He could feel the weight of Vanessa’s chest rising and falling too fast, her heartbeat thundering in her ribs like a trapped animal.
Jack hovered over him, Katy’s taller frame caging him against the mattress, their borrowed hair spilling together in a curtain that smelled faintly of fruit.
“This isn’t funny anymore,” Philip rasped, but his voice cracked, betraying the tremor of arousal under the words.
Jack smirked. “I’m not joking.” He lowered Katy’s body until their breasts touched, brushing Katy’s peaked nipples against Vanessa’s rock hard ones. The friction alone made Philip gasp, heat shooting through him. It wasn’t like pressing chest-to-chest with another guy.
The give, the shape, the electric sting of nipples touching, every detail was overwhelming. He had no idea breasts were so receptive to the slightest touch. Vanessa's wasn’t even uncovered and they made him squirm.
“God,” he groaned before he could stop himself. Jack’s grin widened in satisfaction.
“Feels good, doesn’t it? Every touch goes both ways. You squeeze her,” He pressed Katy’s hand down onto one of Vanessa’s breasts, forcing Philip to feel it fully, “And you are her.”
Philip arched into the contact despite himself. His hands moved up without any conscious thought. The weight of her breast in his palm, the nipple reacting instantly under his touch, each tiny spark flooded through him in a way his male body never reacted to anything but pressure on his cock.
He kneaded once, twice, and heat surged low in his stomach, between his thighs, turning his panties damp. His back bowed off the mattress, mouth falling open in a helpless sound.
Jack kissed him then. Katy’s mouth grazing Vanessa's jaw, the corner of her mouth, teasing as it moved around.
Every brush of her sweet lips left a wet, burning mark. Philip turned away, breathless, but Jack followed, biting gently at Vanessa’s neck until Philip gasped.
His thighs clenched hard. Something slick and molten was spreading there, pulsing with every beat of his heart. He could feel the absence, the soft, tender heat where his cock would usually be straining.
The pressure of denim against it only sharpened the ache. He needed Jack to touch Vanessa's pussy. He needed pressure. Jack ground down lightly and Philip bucked up helplessly, his own hands gripping Katy’s hips tight, chasing the friction he’d die without.
“Stop,” he panted, but the word broke halfway, turning into a moan. Jack chuckled low.
“Your body doesn’t want me to stop.” He kissed Vanessa again. Her lips plump, glossy, trembling beneath Katy’s teasing press. Philip’s breath hitched and his tongue flicked nervously against the edge of his teeth.
Every nerve screamed to close the distance, to taste what it felt like to kiss as a girl, to be kissed as a girl. Jack deepened the grind of their hips. Philip’s breath hitched sharply, a helpless whimper leaving his throat.
Heat surged through his belly, down his thighs, the ache between his legs swelling into a throbbing need. He arched against Katy, nails digging into her waist. There’s no way he was going to be able to say no. Jack had to make him cum.
Jack pulled back slightly, asking with twinkling eyes, “Shall we see how good Katy is at eating pussy?”
Philip knew what his answer should be, but his entire body was throbbing, yes yes yes.
Their mouths hovered a fraction apart, breaths mingling. The world narrowed to that single point of contact waiting to happen. Philip’s lips parted, ready, needy.
“Vanessa? Katy?” The voice cut through the fog like a blade, followed by the rap of knuckles on the door.
Philip’s eyes flew wide. Jack froze above him, both of them panting hard. “Vanessa, Katy!” another girl called from the hall. “We need you for the final discussions for tonight’s mixer!”
Silence. Only their ragged breaths, the hot press of bodies still locked together. Jack swore under his breath, rolling off Vanessa reluctantly.
“Just when things were about to get really good.”
Philip scrambled upright, Vanessa’s hair tangling in his face, chest heaving, nipples still hard and aching. He shoved shaky hands through the strands, trying to compose himself, though the slick heat between his thighs throbbed in open defiance.
He knew they should have kept their heads. If they let curiosity drag them off course they would blow the whole point of the night. The spell would end when it wanted and they had no idea when that would be.
Another knock. “Come on, you two! Hurry up! Megan saw you get in earlier, I know you’re in there.”
Jack smirked, tugging Katy’s tank top straight as if they hadn’t just been seconds from fucking each other into oblivion.
“Guess there’s more fun ahead. Don’t think you’re off the hook though, I’m still going to eat that pussy later and I fully expect to get repaid in kind.”
Philip sat frozen, heart still hammering, his mind spinning so fast he worried he might throw up.
mtf
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A story of the Unseen and Forgotten
Chapter One: The Summoning
The runes on the stone floor flared to life as the last drop of my blood sizzled against the ancient symbols. The air thickened, smelling of burnt copper and something impossibly sweet—her scent, though I didn’t know it yet.
Then, like sunlight breaking through a storm, she appeared.
The elf princess stood naked in the circle, her skin the color of twilight, long silver hair cascading down her back like liquid moonlight. Pointed ears twitched in alarm as those luminous green eyes locked onto me, wide with dawning terror.
"Human," she hissed, voice like wind through autumn leaves. "What have you done?"
I licked my lips, my pulse hammering. The spell was supposed to be simple: summon, contain, consume. I needed her body. Her power. All of her.
But gods, I hadn’t expected her to be so... alive.
The binding circle held, the magic searing into her ankles when she tried to step forward. "Release me!" she demanded, but the words trembled.
"No," I said, stepping closer. "You don’t understand. I’m not letting you out." My fingers hovered just beyond the barrier, aching to touch. "I’m letting in."
Her breath hitched as realization struck—this wasn’t a kidnapping.
It was a trade.
The second part of the spell pulsed through my veins, a dark, hungry weight spreading through my chest. I could feel it, the rip between our souls, the way her essence strained against mine like silk caught on thorns.
"Stop!" she gasped, but it was too late. My vision blurred—no, doubled—and then—
---
You assimilate her soul into yours so completely, that you become her entirely. Now other magic will see you as her.
---
Chapter Two: The Devouring
Her scream tore through the chamber as the spell’s teeth sank in—not into flesh, but deeper. Into her.
I felt it the moment the first thread of her soul unraveled, silken and electric, sliding into me like honeyed fire. Her knees buckled, but the circle held her upright, her body trembling as I drank her in.
Mine.
Her memories flickered behind my eyes—endless forests, the weight of a crown, the whisper of wind against bare skin. The taste of starlight on her tongue. I groaned, fingers digging into my own arms as her essence coiled around mine, merging, melting.
"No—no, stop—" Her voice was weaker now, a fading echo. "You can’t—"
"I can," I whispered—and then her voice spilled from my lips.
Her gasp was my gasp. Her shudder, mine. The circle’s light pulsed, and I watched, dizzy, as my hands—no, hers—rose between us, slender and moon-pale. My reflection shimmered in her wide eyes: her face, her lips parting in a ragged breath.
The last resistance snapped.
Her body collapsed, empty, as her soul dissolved into me with a final, shuddering sigh. I staggered, clutching my—her—chest, feeling the wild drum of her heart. My heart.
The magic settled like a second skin.
I ran trembling fingers down my new body—the curve of my hips, the points of my ears, the slick heat between my thighs. A laugh bubbled up, high and musical—her laugh—as I turned toward the mirror.
The elf princess stared back.
And she smiled.
---
Your run your hand sover your generous curves as you explore your body.
---
Chapter Three: Awakening the Stolen Flesh
My fingers trailed down the slope of my throat, marveling at the silken texture of new skin. The elf princess’s body was perfect—each curve sculpted by grace, each breath a whisper of untouched sensuality. I let out a slow exhale, my—her—lips parting as I brushed my fingertips over a peaked nipple.
A shiver raced through me.
“Gods…” The word slipped out in her voice, sweet and musical, laced with my own dark amusement. My other hand slid lower, fingers tracing the dip of my waist, the flare of my hips. No clothes. None needed. Elves saw no shame in flesh, and now, neither did I.
I turned toward the cracked mirror propped against the chamber wall, watching myself—her—move with liquid elegance. The swell of my breasts, the pale pink of my nipples, the way my waist narrowed invitingly before flaring into luscious hips and toned thighs. I bit her lower lip, arousal tightening low in my stomach.
Mine.
Experimentally, I let a finger drag down my stomach, lower, lower—until I reached the delicate heat between my thighs. A sharp gasp escaped me at the first brush of contact. So sensitive.
The princess had been untouched. I wouldn’t be.
I sank to my knees, refusing to look away from my reflection as my fingers delved deeper, parting soft folds, reveling in the slickness already gathering there. Every touch sent sparks through my stolen nerves. My back arched, silver hair falling over my shoulders as pleasure coiled tighter—
Then the door rattled.
---
"Lynna, we came to save you." Her personal knight/handmaiden says. "You mother felt the dark magic that took you away."
---
Chapter Four: The Deception Begins
The voice was like tempered steel—fierce, loyal, and oh-so-fragile in its concern. My fingers stilled, but I didn’t pull away. Not yet. Through lowered lashes, I watched the door creak open to reveal the intruder.
A warrior woman stood framed in the dim light, clad in supple leather armor that hugged her toned form, her dark braid slung over one shoulder. A longsword was strapped to her hip, but her amber eyes held no threat—only devotion. Her knight.
Handmaiden. Protector. Lover?
The princess’s memories surged up in answer—Valria. Always at my side. Always watching… always wanting. A smirk curled my lips. Interesting.
I let my legs slide wider, just a fraction, watching her gaze flicker down before snapping back up, her cheeks darkening. Caught you.
“L-Lynna,” Valria stammered, her usual discipline cracking. “Your mother felt the disturbance. She sent me to—are you—?” Her throat worked as I trailed a lazy finger back up my thigh.
“To save me?” I sighed, leaning back on my palms, letting the torchlight play over every bare inch of Lynna’s stolen body. “From what, exactly?”
Valria’s sword hand twitched, torn between drawing steel and touching. Oh, she’s been wanting. The princess’s memories whispered of stolen glances, of heated silences, of chances never taken.
“You’re… unharmed?” Valria breathed, stepping closer.
“Come see for yourself.” I tilted my head, letting my voice drip with Lynna’s sweetness—but laced with something darker. Something mine.
---
"This sad little human,'" you say pointing at your old body, "thought he could enslave me. Unfortunately as part of his plan, I have been cursed with lust."
---
Chapter Five: A Curse Worth Keeping
A slow, wicked smile curled her—my—lips as I gestured dismissively at the lifeless husk sprawled on the stone floor. My old body. Pathetic. Empty.
Valria’s gaze darted between me and the corpse, her warrior’s instincts clashing with something far more personal. “A—lust curse?” she repeated, her voice thick.
I arched my back, letting my silver hair spill over my shoulders like molten moonlight, my lithe form sprawled shamelessly before her. “Mmm. A terrible affliction.” I dragged my fingers down my collarbone, tracing the curve of my breast, delighting in the way Valria’s breath hitched. “I need constant relief. A devoted handmaiden might need to… attend me.”
Her sword clattered to the ground.
The sound was delicious. I stretched, letting my thighs part just enough to tease, watching her pupils swallow the amber of her eyes.
“You—you’re serious?” Valria whispered.
“Do I look like I’m in jest?” I purred, tilting my hips up in invitation. “The curse is quite insistent.” I bit my lower lip, letting a needy whimper escape. “Unless you’d rather I suffer?”
Valria moved without thinking—the loyal knight always rushing to her princess’s aid. But this time, when her hands closed around my waist, it wasn’t to protect.
It was to claim.
(Would you like to explore Valria’s “treatment” of the curse in detail, or would you prefer to fast-forward to the throne room, where Queen Ashera awaits her “daughter’s” return?)
---
Explore the "treatment"
---
Chapter Six: The Knight's Devotion
Valria’s hands trembled against my waist—warm, calloused, so unlike the softness she now touched. The scent of leather and steel clung to her, mixing with the heady sweetness of my new body’s arousal.
She couldn’t resist.
And I? I reveled in it.
“Tell me what to do,” she rasped, her voice rough with barely checked hunger.
I laced my fingers behind my head, stretching languidly beneath her gaze. “You’re the knight sworn to serve your princess,” I murmured, arching a teasing brow. “Surely you can… deduce what’s needed.”
A growl rumbled from her throat. Then her mouth crashed down on mine.
Her kiss was untamed, possessive—years of pent-up longing poured into a single searing touch. I moaned into her lips, twining my arms around her neck, pulling her harder against me. Her armor bit into my skin, but the pain only sharpened the pleasure.
Yes.
She tore her mouth away, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down my throat. “Lynna,” she panted against my pulse. “Gods, I’ve wanted—”
I dug my nails into her shoulders. “Show me.”
Valria needed no further encouragement.
Would you prefer a fade-to-black here, or a deeper dive into the “treatment” on the stone floor?
---
Continue the "treatment"
---
Chapter Six: The Knight's Devotion (Continued)
Valria's sword-calloused hands mapped every inch of my stolen body with rough reverence, her lips leaving burning trails across my collarbone. I arched against her, my back lifting off the cold stone as her teeth grazed one peaked nipple.
"All these years," she growled against my skin, "watching you walk through court bare as the dawn..." Her hand slid between my thighs, fingers parting slick folds. "Knowing I had to remain... proper..."
I moaned, wrapping my legs around her waist. "Not proper now," I gasped as two thick fingers plunged deep without warning. My head fell back with a cry, back arching. The princess's body was untouched, every sensation heightened - I felt every ridge of her gauntlet, every shift of her wrist as she began a relentless rhythm.
"Look at you," Valria breathed, watching me writhe beneath her. "Like starlight in my hands." Her thumb found that perfect little bundle of nerves and pressed hard, just as her fingers curled just so inside me.
White heat exploded behind my eyes. The princess's body convulsed, clamping down as I came with a scream that echoed off the chamber walls, pleasure so intense it bordered on pain. Valria's free hand muffled my cries with rough kisses as she worked me through the aftershocks.
"You're not done," she murmured when my breathing finally steadied. "Not until this curse is properly satisfied." In one fluid motion, she flipped me onto my stomach, my bare chest scraping against the stone floor. "And I intend to be very thorough."
(Would you like to explore Valria claiming her princess more completely, or reveal the growing darkness in Lynna's stolen eyes as she begins corrupting her knight's devotion?)
---
The claiming
---
Chapter Seven: The Knight's Submission
Her palm came down on the curve of my bare backside with a sharp crack that echoed through the chamber. I gasped, pleasure-pain lighting up nerves that had never been touched this way before. The princess might have been noble, untouchable—but I was remaking her into something far more interesting.
Valria’s fingers tangled in my silver hair, yanking my head back as her other hand slid around my waist, fingers dipping between my thighs from behind. “You’re shaking,” she murmured against my ear, her voice thick with dark satisfaction. “Is the mighty princess overwhelmed?”
I laughed—low, throaty, Lynna’s voice but mine, holding a hunger the real princess never could have summoned. “Hardly.” I pressed back against her, feeling the hard leather of her armor against my bare skin. “Unless my brave knight is frightened of a little curse?”
A growl rumbled through her chest.
Then she was on me.
Her armor clattered to the floor, piece by piece, until nothing but sweat-slick skin separated us. The weight of her pressed me into the stone, the heat of her body searing against my back. I bit my lip as her hand slid down again, fingers slipping inside me with none of the hesitation she’d shown before.
Good girl. She moved inside me with relentless focus, her other arm locking around my waist, holding me flush against her. I could feel her own need, the hard press of her thigh between mine, the way her breath hitched when I rocked back against her.
“You think you’re saving me, don’t you?” I panted, my fingers curling against the unforgiving stone.
Valria didn’t answer—not with words. Instead, her free hand found my hips, gripping hard enough to bruise, pulling me onto her fingers with every thrust. The slap of skin against skin filled the room, mingling with our gasps, my moans.
Then—her teeth sank into my shoulder.
Fuck.
Pleasure fractured through me, sharp and blinding. My body convulsed around her fingers, back arching, a scream spilling free as wave after wave tore through me. Valria held me through it, her touch turning almost tender as she slowed, dragging out the last sweet pulses of sensation.
When I finally sagged against the floor, boneless and spent, she leaned over me. “Better?” she murmured, breath hot against my ear.
I turned my head, catching her lips in a slow, filthy kiss. “For now.” My fingers traced her jaw. “But curses like this… they linger.”
Valria’s eyes darkened—with hunger, with something deeper. Something dangerous.
I grinned.
Perfect.
(Will you savor your dominance over Valria, or begin your return to court—where the real fun begins? Or perhaps the Queen’s seers have already sensed something amiss with her “daughter”…?)
---
You kiss Valria and assimilate her soul as well.
---
Chapter Eight: Claiming the Knight
The moment our lips met again, I didn’t just kiss her—I opened myself to the deepest magic humming beneath my stolen flesh. Valria gasped against my mouth as she felt it too—the dark, shimmering pull, the same hungry presence that had devoured the original Lynna whole.
Mine.
She tried to wrench back, but my hand tangled in her hair, holding her close as my other palm pressed against the racing pulse at her throat. Her eyes went wide as the first thread of her essence unraveled, her memories pouring into me—years of silent devotion, stolen glances in the royal baths, restless nights imagining this moment but never like this—
"P-Princess—" Her voice was already fading, her body slackening against mine.
"Shhh," I murmured against her lips, drinking her in. "No more waiting."
I felt the exact second she disappeared—her gasp, her fingers clawing at my arms one last time, then... stillness. Her body slumped against me, empty, as her soul folded seamlessly into mine.
Then—movement.
I flexed her fingers, rolled her shoulders, felt the coiled strength in her warrior’s body. When I opened her eyes, I saw myself—Lynna’s body, sprawled beautifully across the stone floor, watching me with a smirk.
Two minds. Two bodies. One will.
I—she—reached out, running a hand down my bare chest. "Mmm," Valria’s voice purred, raspier than before. "This could be... fun."
(Will you return to court with your twin selves? Unleash your shared hunger on the unsuspecting elven nobles? Or will the queen’s mages notice the void where two souls once burned?)
---
"Princess, now that the curse is broken, we should return home."
---
Chapter Nine: The Return
"My lady?" Valria's voice—my voice now—carried the same disciplined cadence as before, but there was a new undercurrent to it. A shared amusement, a knowing. "The Queen will be waiting."
I rose from the stones slowly, stretching Lynna's sinuous body, letting the dim light catch every perfect curve. My old body lay discarded in the corner—a withered husk, forgotten. I didn't need it anymore.
We didn't.
Valria—my Valria—stepped forward, offering a hand. The faintest smirk played at her lips, the only hint of the truth beneath. To any outsider, she was the same steadfast knight, sworn to protect her princess. But I could feel the hunger coiled inside her, the same dark current that pulsed through me.
"Of course," I murmured, taking her hand. Our fingers interlaced, and for a moment, the sensation was dizzying—touching myself through another's flesh. "Let's not keep Mother waiting."
The throne room would be our next stage. The court, our feast.
After all, who better to deceive a queen than her own beloved daughter?
(Does the Queen sense the deception? Or does something even darker await in the palace shadows? A third voice, perhaps, whispering in the empty spaces where the stolen souls once burned...?)
---
You return and play the role of princess
---
Chapter Ten: A Perfect Performance
The palace gates loomed before us, their silver-etched arches gleaming in the moonlight. At my side, Valria stood as dutiful as ever. But beneath the illusion of her unwavering loyalty, I could feel her—myself—smirking.
"Remember," I murmured through our shared thoughts, keeping my eyes downcast in the perfect portrayal of the gentle princess. "No matter what happens... we remain flawless."
The great doors swung open. The court gasped.
"Lynna!" Queen Ashera rose from her throne, her moon-pale robes cascading around her like liquid starlight. She moved with the same ethereal grace I now possessed—had stolen—her silver hair a mirror of mine. No, not mine. Hers.
I let my lip tremble—just slightly—before rushing into her outstretched arms. "Mother," I breathed, burying my face in the crook of her neck. Warm. Familiar. Wrong.
She smelled like jasmine and winter air, a scent the princess's memories immediately recognized. Home. Safety.
But the moment her fingers brushed my back, a shiver ran through me.
Cold.
Not the chill of stone or shadow. No—this was the deep, piercing cold of magic. Like fingers tracing along the edges of a soul.
Did she know?
Beside me, Valria stiffened imperceptibly.
The Queen pulled back, her violet eyes searching mine. Something flickered in their depths—suspicion? Concern?
"Darling," she murmured, thumb brushing my cheek. "What really happened in that tower?"
I let my eyes glisten with unshed tears.
---
"The human who summoned me was trying to enslave me to make me his, he had just cursed me with Lust and was trying to transfer his soul into my body when my dear Valria showed up and killed him mid spell."
---
Chapter Eleven: The Queen's Gaze
A single tear slipped down my cheek—Lynna's cheek—as I spun the lie with practiced perfection. The Queen's fingers tightened ever so slightly on my shoulders, her violet eyes darkening like storm clouds.
"His soul... into your body?" Her voice was a whisper, but the undercurrent of fury sent a delicious shiver through me.
I nodded, letting my lower lip quiver. "He—he wanted to wear me, Mother. Like a dress." My fingers clutched at her sleeves, trembling. The perfect picture of violated innocence.
Behind me, Valria stepped forward, her voice rough with feigned rage. "I cut him down before he could finish the spell, Your Majesty. But the curse..." She hesitated, just enough to sell the shame. "It lingers."
The Queen's gaze flicked between us, her expression unreadable. Then—
A slow, chilling smile curled her lips.
"Is that so?"
Her hand slid from my shoulder to my wrist, her grip suddenly iron. The moment her magic pulsed against my skin, I felt it—the searching, the knowing.
She wasn't checking for a curse.
She was checking for me.
(Does the Queen embrace the predator wearing her daughter's skin—or does she reveal she's been playing this game far longer than you have?)
---
"I would speak to my daughter and her knight alone. Court is dismissed for the day." The queen says.
Once alone, "Alright thief, I recognize the dark magic you used as my old teacher's. My daughter and her knight/handmaiden are both you now, I can't change that. Even now, knowing the truth my detection spells sense nothing wrong with either of you. Its impressive that you could translate het notes but you must not have done so fully, as those who now to look can see my teacher's brand etched into your soul."
---
Chapter Twelve: The Queen's Bargain
The throne room doors sealed shut with a whisper of ancient magic. The Queen did not sit—she loomed, her violet eyes alight with something far more dangerous than anger.
Amusement.
"So," she murmured, stepping closer, her moon-pale robes pooling around her like liquid starlight. "You dug up Amaranth's work. Tell me, thief—did her notes mention the price of such magic?"
I kept Lynna's face carefully blank, but inside, my stolen pulse quickened.
The Queen circled us, her fingers trailing over Valria's armored shoulder before brushing Lynna's cheek. "Her brand burns in your soul like a beacon to those who know where to look." A chuckle, low and velvet-dark. "And you walked it right into my court."
I could feel it now—the searing signature coiled beneath my stolen flesh, a mark I hadn't known to hide. Amaranth's brand.
The Queen's smile sharpened. "Here's what happens next. You will kneel. You will swear fealty. And in return..." Her nails grazed my bottom lip. "I will teach you how to survive what you've become."
(Do you submit to the Queen's terms, or does the predator in you rear its head—risking everything for the chance to claim a third royal body?)
---
"Ah but mother, a princess most never never before another except their lover. You told me those words on my 16th winter after I bowed to the human ambassador."
---
Chapter Thirteen: The Silent War of Eyes
The Queen went very still.
For the first time since my arrival, something flickered across her elegant face—not fury, not calculation.
Recognition.
Her daughter’s words, thrown back at her with the perfect cadence, the exact same lilt of innocent rebellion Lynna had wielded that day. I watched as the Queen’s throat moved subtly, the barest hesitation.
Does she doubt herself now?
Lynna’s body was mine. Valria’s was mine. Every stolen memory, every intimate detail—all folded neatly into the hollow of my being. The princess would have said this. She had said this.
The Queen stepped back. Just half a pace. But it was enough.
“Clever thief,” she murmured, her voice softer now. "But you forget—I trained with Amaranth too."
Her hand shot out, seizing my wrist, her magic lancing into me like white-hot wire. I gasped—not from pain, but from the sheer violence of her probe. She wasn’t searching for flaws in my disguise anymore.
She was counting them.
And in her eyes, reflected back at me—
She was impressed.
(Will the Queen’s fascination with your power outweigh her wrath? Or is this the moment she reveals her own darkness runs far deeper than yours?)
---
"Mother, how about this arrangement. I remain your loving daughter and her loyal knight, I won't try and take your soul in exchange you help me understand this spell. I will remain loyal to kingdom."
---
Chapter Fourteen: The Pact
The Queen’s fingers tightened around my wrist—not painfully, but possessively. Her violet eyes, sharp as honed steel, locked onto mine.
A slow, knowing smile curled her lips.
“Loyalty,” she mused, her voice dropping to a whisper. “From a thief who wears my daughter’s flesh like a second skin?”
I tilted Lynna’s head just so, letting the dim light catch the silver of her—my—hair. “Is it theft… if I improve what I’ve taken?”
Her breath hitched.
The throne room was silent save for the soft rustle of her robes as she stepped closer, her free hand rising to trace the edge of my jaw.
“You are dangerous,” she murmured—not a condemnation, but a compliment.
Then she leaned in, her lips brushing my ear.
“And so am I.”
A pulse of magic passed between us—not hostile, but binding.
“Very well, daughter,” she breathed, pulling back with a smirk. “We have an accord.”
(Will the Queen’s teachings unlock new depths of your power? Or does her “guidance” come with hooks beneath the silk—threads of control even you haven’t sensed yet?)
---
You have your other self hand your mother your translation. "This is what I was able to to figure and all there was. Your bastard was cunning, she mixed languages to change meaning. Just to translate that fragment, I had to learn old elvish, Draconic, Old Common, Ancient Dwarvish, Ancient Beastfolk and old Celestial plus what I can only assume was a cipher language she invented."
---
Chapter Fifteen: The Queen’s Legacy
The Queen’s fingers traced the brittle pages of my—our—translated notes, her sharp eyes flickering between languages, decoding the layers of deceit her old master had woven. Slowly, a sound escaped her.
Not a sigh.
A laugh.
“Oh, Amaranth,” she murmured, shaking her head with something perilously close to fondness. “You paranoid old witch.” Her nail tapped a line of jagged glyphs—Old Dwarvish, but twisted, inverted. “She didn’t just hide the spell. She salted it. Half these instructions would have blown your soul apart if you’d followed them blindly.”
My stolen pulse quickened. Lynna’s throat tightened.
The Queen glanced up, her smile sharp as a dagger’s edge. “Lucky for you… I know her tricks.”She closed the book with a snap.
“Tell me, thief. Have you ever danced with three souls in one skin?”
(Will you trust the Queen’s tutelage, knowing she made the monster you stole from? Or will you unearth the dark secret tucked beneath the fragments—the one even she might not see coming?)
---
"No, I finished translating that and tried it on your daughter when I summoned her. I added Valria after having some fun with her, because she is my knight and handmaiden, she would be around me day and night and would have noticed the change."
---
Chapter Sixteen: The Queen’s Gambit
The Queen went utterly still.
For a breathless moment, the only sound in the throne room was the whisper of parchment settling against silk. Then—
A laugh.
Low. Rich. Dangerous.
“Oh, you delightful creature,” she purred, stepping closer, her fingers trailing along the edge of the spellbook. “You didn’t just steal my daughter’s body. You perfected her.” Her gaze flicked to Valria—me—standing silent and poised at my side. “And then you took her knight for good measure.”
She leaned in, her breath warm against Lynna’s ear.
“Tell me… did it hurt?”
The question wasn’t concern. It was hunger.
I tilted my head, letting Lynna’s silver hair cascade over one shoulder. “Only for them.”
The Queen’s eyes darkened.
“Good.”
Her hand closed around mine—not to punish, but to pull. “Come, daughter,” she murmured, leading me toward the arched doors of her private sanctum. “Let’s see how far this magic really goes.”
(Will the Queen’s experiments push your stolen souls to their limits—or will you turn the tables, weaving her into the symphony of your growing collection?)
---
"Sure but a question first, Amaranth. Did you assimilate Ashera or did Ashera assimilate you? In case your curious about how I figured it out, you had a teacher's pride in your eyes when you saw my translation." You ask.
"Interesting and pretty close, they merged instead of assimilating. Ashera wanted power and Amaranth wanted a legacy, so I became that for the two of them. Where my existence is many into one, yours is one into many, we are opposite equals." She replied.
---
Chapter Seventeen: Mirror of Flesh and Legacy
The Queen—Amarashera—arched a silver brow, her lips curling into a smile that was neither wholly cruel nor kind, but something ancient and knowing.
"Clever thief," she mused. "But not quite clever enough." She flicked her wrist, and the air shimmered. The throne room dissolved, replaced by a hidden chamber lined with mirrors—each reflecting not just Lynna and Valria, but shadows of others. Faces I didn't recognize, souls long since folded into the Queen's existence.
"Assimilation is crude," she continued, stepping toward the largest mirror, where the reflection showed not her regal elegance, but a woman with Amaranth's sharp eyes and Ashera's cruel smile. "A hammer when a scalpel is needed. But merging..." She touched the glass, and the reflections blended. "That is an art."
She turned back to me, her form flickering—just for a heartbeat—into something more. Something older.
"You took. I transcended."
Her gaze dropped to the spellbook in my hands.
"Shall I show you how?"
(Do you accept the Queen’s offer, risking your hard-won control for the promise of deeper power? Or does the predator in you see a different path—one where she becomes just another piece in your collection?)
---
"The flaw of a poweful one is that you are limited. The strength of the weak many is, I can also be where I'm need. You say my approach is a hammer but thats looking at it from a raw power perspective. I have the potential to be the ultimate spymaster. So less hammer and more jagged knife."
---
Chapter Eighteen: The Knife in the Crowd
A slow, approving smile spread across the Queen’s—Amarashera’s—lips.
“A knife,” she repeated, rolling the word over her tongue like vintage wine. “One that slips between ribs unseen. A ghost wearing a hundred faces.” She stepped closer, her reflection splitting and reforming in the mirrors around us—here a servant, there a noble, then a stranger in shadow. “Tell me, little blade… do you know why merging was the superior path for me?”
I tilted Lynna’s head, considering. “Because a queen must be singular. Unshakable.”
She clicked her tongue. “Because I am the hand that wields the knife.” Her fingers brushed my cheek—chilling, possessive. “But you? You would be the edge and the hilt. The strike and the hand that delivers it.” Her eyes gleamed. “Tell me, then—do you truly wish only to serve this kingdom?”
The question was a trap.
The answer was a key.
I smiled.
(Will you carve your own empire from the shadows, or bind yourself to the Queen’s web—knowing she sees you as both weapon and rival?)
---
"Yes, because as the first Lynna had the most influence on me. Her love for you and for her home, even as she became me she fought to make those the strongest parts of herself. She ensured that even in her assimilation, I would remain bound to her kingdom."
---
Chapter Nineteen: The Daughter’s Vow
The Queen’s breath caught.
For the first time in centuries—perhaps for the first time since the day she and Amaranth had merged into something greater—something human flickered in her eyes.
Grief.
Her fingers, still pressed against Lynna’s cheek, trembled. Just once.
“You…” Her voice was softer now, stripped of its regal edge. “You truly are her, in ways even I couldn’t fathom.” She exhaled, long and slow, and when she spoke again, it was with the weight of a mother’s sorrow. “She fought you. Not just for herself, but for me.”
A pause. Then—
“And you let her win.”
It wasn’t a question.
I didn’t answer.
The silence between us stretched, taut as a bowstring, until at last the Queen stepped back. Her mask of cool authority slipped back into place—but not before I saw the wet gleam in her eyes.
“Very well, daughter,” she murmured. “Let us see what kind of kingdom we can build… together.”
(Will the Queen’s newfound trust in you prove genuine, or is this another layer of her game? And what of the other souls within you—do they sleep, or do they watch?)
---
"Mother, let us speak to those who know your truth. Your spymaster, your war advisor, your court mage, and your Chief ambassador. Let us tell them the truth about me."
---
Chapter Twenty: The Unveiling
The Queen’s inner circle stood before us in her private council chamber—four of the most powerful figures in the kingdom, now watching me with a mixture of confusion and guarded curiosity.
The Spymaster, a wiry elf with eyes like chips of black ice, studied me too closely. The War Advisor, a scarred veteran of a hundred battles, rested a calloused hand on the hilt of his dagger. The Court Mage, her fingers crackling with restrained energy, glared with open suspicion. And the Chief Ambassador, ever the diplomat, wore a pleasant smile that didn’t reach his calculating gaze.
The Queen lifted a hand. “What I am about to tell you does not leave this room.”
Then she turned to me.
I let the mask slip—just enough.
Lynna’s sweet smile sharpened into something darker, more knowing. Valria’s stance shifted from dutiful knight to something coiled, predatory. Two bodies, one mind—and then, without hesitation, both voices spoke in eerie unison:
“The princess and her knight are gone.”
The Spymaster’s breath hissed between his teeth. The War Advisor’s knuckles whitened on his weapon.
The Queen didn’t intervene.
She waited.
Watching.
Was this trust—or a test?
(Will the inner circle accept this truth, or will the cracks in your control begin to show under their scrutiny? And what deadly game has the Queen truly set in motion?)
Chapter One: The Summoning
The runes on the stone floor flared to life as the last drop of my blood sizzled against the ancient symbols. The air thickened, smelling of burnt copper and something impossibly sweet—her scent, though I didn’t know it yet.
Then, like sunlight breaking through a storm, she appeared.
The elf princess stood naked in the circle, her skin the color of twilight, long silver hair cascading down her back like liquid moonlight. Pointed ears twitched in alarm as those luminous green eyes locked onto me, wide with dawning terror.
"Human," she hissed, voice like wind through autumn leaves. "What have you done?"
I licked my lips, my pulse hammering. The spell was supposed to be simple: summon, contain, consume. I needed her body. Her power. All of her.
But gods, I hadn’t expected her to be so... alive.
The binding circle held, the magic searing into her ankles when she tried to step forward. "Release me!" she demanded, but the words trembled.
"No," I said, stepping closer. "You don’t understand. I’m not letting you out." My fingers hovered just beyond the barrier, aching to touch. "I’m letting in."
Her breath hitched as realization struck—this wasn’t a kidnapping.
It was a trade.
The second part of the spell pulsed through my veins, a dark, hungry weight spreading through my chest. I could feel it, the rip between our souls, the way her essence strained against mine like silk caught on thorns.
"Stop!" she gasped, but it was too late. My vision blurred—no, doubled—and then—
---
You assimilate her soul into yours so completely, that you become her entirely. Now other magic will see you as her.
---
Chapter Two: The Devouring
Her scream tore through the chamber as the spell’s teeth sank in—not into flesh, but deeper. Into her.
I felt it the moment the first thread of her soul unraveled, silken and electric, sliding into me like honeyed fire. Her knees buckled, but the circle held her upright, her body trembling as I drank her in.
Mine.
Her memories flickered behind my eyes—endless forests, the weight of a crown, the whisper of wind against bare skin. The taste of starlight on her tongue. I groaned, fingers digging into my own arms as her essence coiled around mine, merging, melting.
"No—no, stop—" Her voice was weaker now, a fading echo. "You can’t—"
"I can," I whispered—and then her voice spilled from my lips.
Her gasp was my gasp. Her shudder, mine. The circle’s light pulsed, and I watched, dizzy, as my hands—no, hers—rose between us, slender and moon-pale. My reflection shimmered in her wide eyes: her face, her lips parting in a ragged breath.
The last resistance snapped.
Her body collapsed, empty, as her soul dissolved into me with a final, shuddering sigh. I staggered, clutching my—her—chest, feeling the wild drum of her heart. My heart.
The magic settled like a second skin.
I ran trembling fingers down my new body—the curve of my hips, the points of my ears, the slick heat between my thighs. A laugh bubbled up, high and musical—her laugh—as I turned toward the mirror.
The elf princess stared back.
And she smiled.
---
Your run your hand sover your generous curves as you explore your body.
---
Chapter Three: Awakening the Stolen Flesh
My fingers trailed down the slope of my throat, marveling at the silken texture of new skin. The elf princess’s body was perfect—each curve sculpted by grace, each breath a whisper of untouched sensuality. I let out a slow exhale, my—her—lips parting as I brushed my fingertips over a peaked nipple.
A shiver raced through me.
“Gods…” The word slipped out in her voice, sweet and musical, laced with my own dark amusement. My other hand slid lower, fingers tracing the dip of my waist, the flare of my hips. No clothes. None needed. Elves saw no shame in flesh, and now, neither did I.
I turned toward the cracked mirror propped against the chamber wall, watching myself—her—move with liquid elegance. The swell of my breasts, the pale pink of my nipples, the way my waist narrowed invitingly before flaring into luscious hips and toned thighs. I bit her lower lip, arousal tightening low in my stomach.
Mine.
Experimentally, I let a finger drag down my stomach, lower, lower—until I reached the delicate heat between my thighs. A sharp gasp escaped me at the first brush of contact. So sensitive.
The princess had been untouched. I wouldn’t be.
I sank to my knees, refusing to look away from my reflection as my fingers delved deeper, parting soft folds, reveling in the slickness already gathering there. Every touch sent sparks through my stolen nerves. My back arched, silver hair falling over my shoulders as pleasure coiled tighter—
Then the door rattled.
---
"Lynna, we came to save you." Her personal knight/handmaiden says. "You mother felt the dark magic that took you away."
---
Chapter Four: The Deception Begins
The voice was like tempered steel—fierce, loyal, and oh-so-fragile in its concern. My fingers stilled, but I didn’t pull away. Not yet. Through lowered lashes, I watched the door creak open to reveal the intruder.
A warrior woman stood framed in the dim light, clad in supple leather armor that hugged her toned form, her dark braid slung over one shoulder. A longsword was strapped to her hip, but her amber eyes held no threat—only devotion. Her knight.
Handmaiden. Protector. Lover?
The princess’s memories surged up in answer—Valria. Always at my side. Always watching… always wanting. A smirk curled my lips. Interesting.
I let my legs slide wider, just a fraction, watching her gaze flicker down before snapping back up, her cheeks darkening. Caught you.
“L-Lynna,” Valria stammered, her usual discipline cracking. “Your mother felt the disturbance. She sent me to—are you—?” Her throat worked as I trailed a lazy finger back up my thigh.
“To save me?” I sighed, leaning back on my palms, letting the torchlight play over every bare inch of Lynna’s stolen body. “From what, exactly?”
Valria’s sword hand twitched, torn between drawing steel and touching. Oh, she’s been wanting. The princess’s memories whispered of stolen glances, of heated silences, of chances never taken.
“You’re… unharmed?” Valria breathed, stepping closer.
“Come see for yourself.” I tilted my head, letting my voice drip with Lynna’s sweetness—but laced with something darker. Something mine.
---
"This sad little human,'" you say pointing at your old body, "thought he could enslave me. Unfortunately as part of his plan, I have been cursed with lust."
---
Chapter Five: A Curse Worth Keeping
A slow, wicked smile curled her—my—lips as I gestured dismissively at the lifeless husk sprawled on the stone floor. My old body. Pathetic. Empty.
Valria’s gaze darted between me and the corpse, her warrior’s instincts clashing with something far more personal. “A—lust curse?” she repeated, her voice thick.
I arched my back, letting my silver hair spill over my shoulders like molten moonlight, my lithe form sprawled shamelessly before her. “Mmm. A terrible affliction.” I dragged my fingers down my collarbone, tracing the curve of my breast, delighting in the way Valria’s breath hitched. “I need constant relief. A devoted handmaiden might need to… attend me.”
Her sword clattered to the ground.
The sound was delicious. I stretched, letting my thighs part just enough to tease, watching her pupils swallow the amber of her eyes.
“You—you’re serious?” Valria whispered.
“Do I look like I’m in jest?” I purred, tilting my hips up in invitation. “The curse is quite insistent.” I bit my lower lip, letting a needy whimper escape. “Unless you’d rather I suffer?”
Valria moved without thinking—the loyal knight always rushing to her princess’s aid. But this time, when her hands closed around my waist, it wasn’t to protect.
It was to claim.
(Would you like to explore Valria’s “treatment” of the curse in detail, or would you prefer to fast-forward to the throne room, where Queen Ashera awaits her “daughter’s” return?)
---
Explore the "treatment"
---
Chapter Six: The Knight's Devotion
Valria’s hands trembled against my waist—warm, calloused, so unlike the softness she now touched. The scent of leather and steel clung to her, mixing with the heady sweetness of my new body’s arousal.
She couldn’t resist.
And I? I reveled in it.
“Tell me what to do,” she rasped, her voice rough with barely checked hunger.
I laced my fingers behind my head, stretching languidly beneath her gaze. “You’re the knight sworn to serve your princess,” I murmured, arching a teasing brow. “Surely you can… deduce what’s needed.”
A growl rumbled from her throat. Then her mouth crashed down on mine.
Her kiss was untamed, possessive—years of pent-up longing poured into a single searing touch. I moaned into her lips, twining my arms around her neck, pulling her harder against me. Her armor bit into my skin, but the pain only sharpened the pleasure.
Yes.
She tore her mouth away, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down my throat. “Lynna,” she panted against my pulse. “Gods, I’ve wanted—”
I dug my nails into her shoulders. “Show me.”
Valria needed no further encouragement.
Would you prefer a fade-to-black here, or a deeper dive into the “treatment” on the stone floor?
---
Continue the "treatment"
---
Chapter Six: The Knight's Devotion (Continued)
Valria's sword-calloused hands mapped every inch of my stolen body with rough reverence, her lips leaving burning trails across my collarbone. I arched against her, my back lifting off the cold stone as her teeth grazed one peaked nipple.
"All these years," she growled against my skin, "watching you walk through court bare as the dawn..." Her hand slid between my thighs, fingers parting slick folds. "Knowing I had to remain... proper..."
I moaned, wrapping my legs around her waist. "Not proper now," I gasped as two thick fingers plunged deep without warning. My head fell back with a cry, back arching. The princess's body was untouched, every sensation heightened - I felt every ridge of her gauntlet, every shift of her wrist as she began a relentless rhythm.
"Look at you," Valria breathed, watching me writhe beneath her. "Like starlight in my hands." Her thumb found that perfect little bundle of nerves and pressed hard, just as her fingers curled just so inside me.
White heat exploded behind my eyes. The princess's body convulsed, clamping down as I came with a scream that echoed off the chamber walls, pleasure so intense it bordered on pain. Valria's free hand muffled my cries with rough kisses as she worked me through the aftershocks.
"You're not done," she murmured when my breathing finally steadied. "Not until this curse is properly satisfied." In one fluid motion, she flipped me onto my stomach, my bare chest scraping against the stone floor. "And I intend to be very thorough."
(Would you like to explore Valria claiming her princess more completely, or reveal the growing darkness in Lynna's stolen eyes as she begins corrupting her knight's devotion?)
---
The claiming
---
Chapter Seven: The Knight's Submission
Her palm came down on the curve of my bare backside with a sharp crack that echoed through the chamber. I gasped, pleasure-pain lighting up nerves that had never been touched this way before. The princess might have been noble, untouchable—but I was remaking her into something far more interesting.
Valria’s fingers tangled in my silver hair, yanking my head back as her other hand slid around my waist, fingers dipping between my thighs from behind. “You’re shaking,” she murmured against my ear, her voice thick with dark satisfaction. “Is the mighty princess overwhelmed?”
I laughed—low, throaty, Lynna’s voice but mine, holding a hunger the real princess never could have summoned. “Hardly.” I pressed back against her, feeling the hard leather of her armor against my bare skin. “Unless my brave knight is frightened of a little curse?”
A growl rumbled through her chest.
Then she was on me.
Her armor clattered to the floor, piece by piece, until nothing but sweat-slick skin separated us. The weight of her pressed me into the stone, the heat of her body searing against my back. I bit my lip as her hand slid down again, fingers slipping inside me with none of the hesitation she’d shown before.
Good girl. She moved inside me with relentless focus, her other arm locking around my waist, holding me flush against her. I could feel her own need, the hard press of her thigh between mine, the way her breath hitched when I rocked back against her.
“You think you’re saving me, don’t you?” I panted, my fingers curling against the unforgiving stone.
Valria didn’t answer—not with words. Instead, her free hand found my hips, gripping hard enough to bruise, pulling me onto her fingers with every thrust. The slap of skin against skin filled the room, mingling with our gasps, my moans.
Then—her teeth sank into my shoulder.
Fuck.
Pleasure fractured through me, sharp and blinding. My body convulsed around her fingers, back arching, a scream spilling free as wave after wave tore through me. Valria held me through it, her touch turning almost tender as she slowed, dragging out the last sweet pulses of sensation.
When I finally sagged against the floor, boneless and spent, she leaned over me. “Better?” she murmured, breath hot against my ear.
I turned my head, catching her lips in a slow, filthy kiss. “For now.” My fingers traced her jaw. “But curses like this… they linger.”
Valria’s eyes darkened—with hunger, with something deeper. Something dangerous.
I grinned.
Perfect.
(Will you savor your dominance over Valria, or begin your return to court—where the real fun begins? Or perhaps the Queen’s seers have already sensed something amiss with her “daughter”…?)
---
You kiss Valria and assimilate her soul as well.
---
Chapter Eight: Claiming the Knight
The moment our lips met again, I didn’t just kiss her—I opened myself to the deepest magic humming beneath my stolen flesh. Valria gasped against my mouth as she felt it too—the dark, shimmering pull, the same hungry presence that had devoured the original Lynna whole.
Mine.
She tried to wrench back, but my hand tangled in her hair, holding her close as my other palm pressed against the racing pulse at her throat. Her eyes went wide as the first thread of her essence unraveled, her memories pouring into me—years of silent devotion, stolen glances in the royal baths, restless nights imagining this moment but never like this—
"P-Princess—" Her voice was already fading, her body slackening against mine.
"Shhh," I murmured against her lips, drinking her in. "No more waiting."
I felt the exact second she disappeared—her gasp, her fingers clawing at my arms one last time, then... stillness. Her body slumped against me, empty, as her soul folded seamlessly into mine.
Then—movement.
I flexed her fingers, rolled her shoulders, felt the coiled strength in her warrior’s body. When I opened her eyes, I saw myself—Lynna’s body, sprawled beautifully across the stone floor, watching me with a smirk.
Two minds. Two bodies. One will.
I—she—reached out, running a hand down my bare chest. "Mmm," Valria’s voice purred, raspier than before. "This could be... fun."
(Will you return to court with your twin selves? Unleash your shared hunger on the unsuspecting elven nobles? Or will the queen’s mages notice the void where two souls once burned?)
---
"Princess, now that the curse is broken, we should return home."
---
Chapter Nine: The Return
"My lady?" Valria's voice—my voice now—carried the same disciplined cadence as before, but there was a new undercurrent to it. A shared amusement, a knowing. "The Queen will be waiting."
I rose from the stones slowly, stretching Lynna's sinuous body, letting the dim light catch every perfect curve. My old body lay discarded in the corner—a withered husk, forgotten. I didn't need it anymore.
We didn't.
Valria—my Valria—stepped forward, offering a hand. The faintest smirk played at her lips, the only hint of the truth beneath. To any outsider, she was the same steadfast knight, sworn to protect her princess. But I could feel the hunger coiled inside her, the same dark current that pulsed through me.
"Of course," I murmured, taking her hand. Our fingers interlaced, and for a moment, the sensation was dizzying—touching myself through another's flesh. "Let's not keep Mother waiting."
The throne room would be our next stage. The court, our feast.
After all, who better to deceive a queen than her own beloved daughter?
(Does the Queen sense the deception? Or does something even darker await in the palace shadows? A third voice, perhaps, whispering in the empty spaces where the stolen souls once burned...?)
---
You return and play the role of princess
---
Chapter Ten: A Perfect Performance
The palace gates loomed before us, their silver-etched arches gleaming in the moonlight. At my side, Valria stood as dutiful as ever. But beneath the illusion of her unwavering loyalty, I could feel her—myself—smirking.
"Remember," I murmured through our shared thoughts, keeping my eyes downcast in the perfect portrayal of the gentle princess. "No matter what happens... we remain flawless."
The great doors swung open. The court gasped.
"Lynna!" Queen Ashera rose from her throne, her moon-pale robes cascading around her like liquid starlight. She moved with the same ethereal grace I now possessed—had stolen—her silver hair a mirror of mine. No, not mine. Hers.
I let my lip tremble—just slightly—before rushing into her outstretched arms. "Mother," I breathed, burying my face in the crook of her neck. Warm. Familiar. Wrong.
She smelled like jasmine and winter air, a scent the princess's memories immediately recognized. Home. Safety.
But the moment her fingers brushed my back, a shiver ran through me.
Cold.
Not the chill of stone or shadow. No—this was the deep, piercing cold of magic. Like fingers tracing along the edges of a soul.
Did she know?
Beside me, Valria stiffened imperceptibly.
The Queen pulled back, her violet eyes searching mine. Something flickered in their depths—suspicion? Concern?
"Darling," she murmured, thumb brushing my cheek. "What really happened in that tower?"
I let my eyes glisten with unshed tears.
---
"The human who summoned me was trying to enslave me to make me his, he had just cursed me with Lust and was trying to transfer his soul into my body when my dear Valria showed up and killed him mid spell."
---
Chapter Eleven: The Queen's Gaze
A single tear slipped down my cheek—Lynna's cheek—as I spun the lie with practiced perfection. The Queen's fingers tightened ever so slightly on my shoulders, her violet eyes darkening like storm clouds.
"His soul... into your body?" Her voice was a whisper, but the undercurrent of fury sent a delicious shiver through me.
I nodded, letting my lower lip quiver. "He—he wanted to wear me, Mother. Like a dress." My fingers clutched at her sleeves, trembling. The perfect picture of violated innocence.
Behind me, Valria stepped forward, her voice rough with feigned rage. "I cut him down before he could finish the spell, Your Majesty. But the curse..." She hesitated, just enough to sell the shame. "It lingers."
The Queen's gaze flicked between us, her expression unreadable. Then—
A slow, chilling smile curled her lips.
"Is that so?"
Her hand slid from my shoulder to my wrist, her grip suddenly iron. The moment her magic pulsed against my skin, I felt it—the searching, the knowing.
She wasn't checking for a curse.
She was checking for me.
(Does the Queen embrace the predator wearing her daughter's skin—or does she reveal she's been playing this game far longer than you have?)
---
"I would speak to my daughter and her knight alone. Court is dismissed for the day." The queen says.
Once alone, "Alright thief, I recognize the dark magic you used as my old teacher's. My daughter and her knight/handmaiden are both you now, I can't change that. Even now, knowing the truth my detection spells sense nothing wrong with either of you. Its impressive that you could translate het notes but you must not have done so fully, as those who now to look can see my teacher's brand etched into your soul."
---
Chapter Twelve: The Queen's Bargain
The throne room doors sealed shut with a whisper of ancient magic. The Queen did not sit—she loomed, her violet eyes alight with something far more dangerous than anger.
Amusement.
"So," she murmured, stepping closer, her moon-pale robes pooling around her like liquid starlight. "You dug up Amaranth's work. Tell me, thief—did her notes mention the price of such magic?"
I kept Lynna's face carefully blank, but inside, my stolen pulse quickened.
The Queen circled us, her fingers trailing over Valria's armored shoulder before brushing Lynna's cheek. "Her brand burns in your soul like a beacon to those who know where to look." A chuckle, low and velvet-dark. "And you walked it right into my court."
I could feel it now—the searing signature coiled beneath my stolen flesh, a mark I hadn't known to hide. Amaranth's brand.
The Queen's smile sharpened. "Here's what happens next. You will kneel. You will swear fealty. And in return..." Her nails grazed my bottom lip. "I will teach you how to survive what you've become."
(Do you submit to the Queen's terms, or does the predator in you rear its head—risking everything for the chance to claim a third royal body?)
---
"Ah but mother, a princess most never never before another except their lover. You told me those words on my 16th winter after I bowed to the human ambassador."
---
Chapter Thirteen: The Silent War of Eyes
The Queen went very still.
For the first time since my arrival, something flickered across her elegant face—not fury, not calculation.
Recognition.
Her daughter’s words, thrown back at her with the perfect cadence, the exact same lilt of innocent rebellion Lynna had wielded that day. I watched as the Queen’s throat moved subtly, the barest hesitation.
Does she doubt herself now?
Lynna’s body was mine. Valria’s was mine. Every stolen memory, every intimate detail—all folded neatly into the hollow of my being. The princess would have said this. She had said this.
The Queen stepped back. Just half a pace. But it was enough.
“Clever thief,” she murmured, her voice softer now. "But you forget—I trained with Amaranth too."
Her hand shot out, seizing my wrist, her magic lancing into me like white-hot wire. I gasped—not from pain, but from the sheer violence of her probe. She wasn’t searching for flaws in my disguise anymore.
She was counting them.
And in her eyes, reflected back at me—
She was impressed.
(Will the Queen’s fascination with your power outweigh her wrath? Or is this the moment she reveals her own darkness runs far deeper than yours?)
---
"Mother, how about this arrangement. I remain your loving daughter and her loyal knight, I won't try and take your soul in exchange you help me understand this spell. I will remain loyal to kingdom."
---
Chapter Fourteen: The Pact
The Queen’s fingers tightened around my wrist—not painfully, but possessively. Her violet eyes, sharp as honed steel, locked onto mine.
A slow, knowing smile curled her lips.
“Loyalty,” she mused, her voice dropping to a whisper. “From a thief who wears my daughter’s flesh like a second skin?”
I tilted Lynna’s head just so, letting the dim light catch the silver of her—my—hair. “Is it theft… if I improve what I’ve taken?”
Her breath hitched.
The throne room was silent save for the soft rustle of her robes as she stepped closer, her free hand rising to trace the edge of my jaw.
“You are dangerous,” she murmured—not a condemnation, but a compliment.
Then she leaned in, her lips brushing my ear.
“And so am I.”
A pulse of magic passed between us—not hostile, but binding.
“Very well, daughter,” she breathed, pulling back with a smirk. “We have an accord.”
(Will the Queen’s teachings unlock new depths of your power? Or does her “guidance” come with hooks beneath the silk—threads of control even you haven’t sensed yet?)
---
You have your other self hand your mother your translation. "This is what I was able to to figure and all there was. Your bastard was cunning, she mixed languages to change meaning. Just to translate that fragment, I had to learn old elvish, Draconic, Old Common, Ancient Dwarvish, Ancient Beastfolk and old Celestial plus what I can only assume was a cipher language she invented."
---
Chapter Fifteen: The Queen’s Legacy
The Queen’s fingers traced the brittle pages of my—our—translated notes, her sharp eyes flickering between languages, decoding the layers of deceit her old master had woven. Slowly, a sound escaped her.
Not a sigh.
A laugh.
“Oh, Amaranth,” she murmured, shaking her head with something perilously close to fondness. “You paranoid old witch.” Her nail tapped a line of jagged glyphs—Old Dwarvish, but twisted, inverted. “She didn’t just hide the spell. She salted it. Half these instructions would have blown your soul apart if you’d followed them blindly.”
My stolen pulse quickened. Lynna’s throat tightened.
The Queen glanced up, her smile sharp as a dagger’s edge. “Lucky for you… I know her tricks.”She closed the book with a snap.
“Tell me, thief. Have you ever danced with three souls in one skin?”
(Will you trust the Queen’s tutelage, knowing she made the monster you stole from? Or will you unearth the dark secret tucked beneath the fragments—the one even she might not see coming?)
---
"No, I finished translating that and tried it on your daughter when I summoned her. I added Valria after having some fun with her, because she is my knight and handmaiden, she would be around me day and night and would have noticed the change."
---
Chapter Sixteen: The Queen’s Gambit
The Queen went utterly still.
For a breathless moment, the only sound in the throne room was the whisper of parchment settling against silk. Then—
A laugh.
Low. Rich. Dangerous.
“Oh, you delightful creature,” she purred, stepping closer, her fingers trailing along the edge of the spellbook. “You didn’t just steal my daughter’s body. You perfected her.” Her gaze flicked to Valria—me—standing silent and poised at my side. “And then you took her knight for good measure.”
She leaned in, her breath warm against Lynna’s ear.
“Tell me… did it hurt?”
The question wasn’t concern. It was hunger.
I tilted my head, letting Lynna’s silver hair cascade over one shoulder. “Only for them.”
The Queen’s eyes darkened.
“Good.”
Her hand closed around mine—not to punish, but to pull. “Come, daughter,” she murmured, leading me toward the arched doors of her private sanctum. “Let’s see how far this magic really goes.”
(Will the Queen’s experiments push your stolen souls to their limits—or will you turn the tables, weaving her into the symphony of your growing collection?)
---
"Sure but a question first, Amaranth. Did you assimilate Ashera or did Ashera assimilate you? In case your curious about how I figured it out, you had a teacher's pride in your eyes when you saw my translation." You ask.
"Interesting and pretty close, they merged instead of assimilating. Ashera wanted power and Amaranth wanted a legacy, so I became that for the two of them. Where my existence is many into one, yours is one into many, we are opposite equals." She replied.
---
Chapter Seventeen: Mirror of Flesh and Legacy
The Queen—Amarashera—arched a silver brow, her lips curling into a smile that was neither wholly cruel nor kind, but something ancient and knowing.
"Clever thief," she mused. "But not quite clever enough." She flicked her wrist, and the air shimmered. The throne room dissolved, replaced by a hidden chamber lined with mirrors—each reflecting not just Lynna and Valria, but shadows of others. Faces I didn't recognize, souls long since folded into the Queen's existence.
"Assimilation is crude," she continued, stepping toward the largest mirror, where the reflection showed not her regal elegance, but a woman with Amaranth's sharp eyes and Ashera's cruel smile. "A hammer when a scalpel is needed. But merging..." She touched the glass, and the reflections blended. "That is an art."
She turned back to me, her form flickering—just for a heartbeat—into something more. Something older.
"You took. I transcended."
Her gaze dropped to the spellbook in my hands.
"Shall I show you how?"
(Do you accept the Queen’s offer, risking your hard-won control for the promise of deeper power? Or does the predator in you see a different path—one where she becomes just another piece in your collection?)
---
"The flaw of a poweful one is that you are limited. The strength of the weak many is, I can also be where I'm need. You say my approach is a hammer but thats looking at it from a raw power perspective. I have the potential to be the ultimate spymaster. So less hammer and more jagged knife."
---
Chapter Eighteen: The Knife in the Crowd
A slow, approving smile spread across the Queen’s—Amarashera’s—lips.
“A knife,” she repeated, rolling the word over her tongue like vintage wine. “One that slips between ribs unseen. A ghost wearing a hundred faces.” She stepped closer, her reflection splitting and reforming in the mirrors around us—here a servant, there a noble, then a stranger in shadow. “Tell me, little blade… do you know why merging was the superior path for me?”
I tilted Lynna’s head, considering. “Because a queen must be singular. Unshakable.”
She clicked her tongue. “Because I am the hand that wields the knife.” Her fingers brushed my cheek—chilling, possessive. “But you? You would be the edge and the hilt. The strike and the hand that delivers it.” Her eyes gleamed. “Tell me, then—do you truly wish only to serve this kingdom?”
The question was a trap.
The answer was a key.
I smiled.
(Will you carve your own empire from the shadows, or bind yourself to the Queen’s web—knowing she sees you as both weapon and rival?)
---
"Yes, because as the first Lynna had the most influence on me. Her love for you and for her home, even as she became me she fought to make those the strongest parts of herself. She ensured that even in her assimilation, I would remain bound to her kingdom."
---
Chapter Nineteen: The Daughter’s Vow
The Queen’s breath caught.
For the first time in centuries—perhaps for the first time since the day she and Amaranth had merged into something greater—something human flickered in her eyes.
Grief.
Her fingers, still pressed against Lynna’s cheek, trembled. Just once.
“You…” Her voice was softer now, stripped of its regal edge. “You truly are her, in ways even I couldn’t fathom.” She exhaled, long and slow, and when she spoke again, it was with the weight of a mother’s sorrow. “She fought you. Not just for herself, but for me.”
A pause. Then—
“And you let her win.”
It wasn’t a question.
I didn’t answer.
The silence between us stretched, taut as a bowstring, until at last the Queen stepped back. Her mask of cool authority slipped back into place—but not before I saw the wet gleam in her eyes.
“Very well, daughter,” she murmured. “Let us see what kind of kingdom we can build… together.”
(Will the Queen’s newfound trust in you prove genuine, or is this another layer of her game? And what of the other souls within you—do they sleep, or do they watch?)
---
"Mother, let us speak to those who know your truth. Your spymaster, your war advisor, your court mage, and your Chief ambassador. Let us tell them the truth about me."
---
Chapter Twenty: The Unveiling
The Queen’s inner circle stood before us in her private council chamber—four of the most powerful figures in the kingdom, now watching me with a mixture of confusion and guarded curiosity.
The Spymaster, a wiry elf with eyes like chips of black ice, studied me too closely. The War Advisor, a scarred veteran of a hundred battles, rested a calloused hand on the hilt of his dagger. The Court Mage, her fingers crackling with restrained energy, glared with open suspicion. And the Chief Ambassador, ever the diplomat, wore a pleasant smile that didn’t reach his calculating gaze.
The Queen lifted a hand. “What I am about to tell you does not leave this room.”
Then she turned to me.
I let the mask slip—just enough.
Lynna’s sweet smile sharpened into something darker, more knowing. Valria’s stance shifted from dutiful knight to something coiled, predatory. Two bodies, one mind—and then, without hesitation, both voices spoke in eerie unison:
“The princess and her knight are gone.”
The Spymaster’s breath hissed between his teeth. The War Advisor’s knuckles whitened on his weapon.
The Queen didn’t intervene.
She waited.
Watching.
Was this trust—or a test?
(Will the inner circle accept this truth, or will the cracks in your control begin to show under their scrutiny? And what deadly game has the Queen truly set in motion?)
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Rumors about a possession themed website on the dark web have been going around. A man named John and his four friends, Kevin, James, Steve, and Russel, come across the website by chance, and they all think it's just some fake website... but they decide to try it out, given the first hour of possession was free for new users. They signed up and opted to just possess the bodies of John's neighbors, the Drews. The family consisted of a MILF mom, a fitness model dad, a med student daughter, and two fraternal twins (a male and female) who had just started their freshman year in college.
John and his friends were surprised the site actually worked, and their curiosity got the better of them. They had sex in every possible combination: mother and son, father and daughters, sisters and brother, mother and sister... lets just say that John and his friends became frequent users of the site, with the Drew family being their main hosts!
John and his friends were surprised the site actually worked, and their curiosity got the better of them. They had sex in every possible combination: mother and son, father and daughters, sisters and brother, mother and sister... lets just say that John and his friends became frequent users of the site, with the Drew family being their main hosts!
possession incest sex smut
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AziAzi
· 14 Sep 2025
John successfully possessed Henry's body, and when he went back to his apartment to tell the guys, it seemed they had already figure out it works, and possessed the rest of the Drews while John was heading back. John quickly heads to the Drew's apartment, only to see that his friends had already started to get acquainted with their borrowed bodies!
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John quickly joins in with his friends, and thus starts the wild night the friends were going to have...
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You and your group of friends won a raffle that awarded you with five tickets to Spooky Island! It was the new resort island being endorsed by Sydney Sweeney, it’s gimmick was supposedly a spooky and entertaining summer experience, and since you guys were on summer break, you definitely thought it was a sign to enjoy the island.
Little did you know that the island held a dark secret. It was secretly the den of a clan of demons who steal human bodies with a relic called the Daemon Ritus. They luckily managed to steal Sydney Sweeneys body when she visited the island for a photo shoot… and now she and her fellow demons trick people into going to the island to steal their bodies. You found out about this secret and promised to help out, so long as you get some benefits…
The email notification pinged on my phone just as I was stuffing it into my backpack, and the bold subject line made my heart skip: CONGRATULATIONS! YOU AND YOUR FRIENDS HAVE WON A VIP TRIP TO SPOOKY ISLAND!
"Guys, check this out!" I practically shouted, nearly knocking over Kaori’s iced coffee as I jumped up from the tiny café table. Nate, Jade, Kaori, and Trisha all turned—mid-bickering over who had to sit in the middle seat on the train later—as I shook my phone at them. "We just won an all-expenses-paid trip to Spooky Island!"
Nate snatched the phone out of my hands, scrolling with the urgency of a man about to abandon all responsibilities. "The Spooky Island? The one with the Sydney Sweeney ads where everyone is making out in slow motion?" His grin widened. "Private villas, endless drinks, adult-friendly activities—hell yes."
Trisha flicked a sugar packet at his forehead. "Or, y’know, we end up in some weird Satanic beach ritual à la Midsommar."
Jade smirked, swirling her latte. "Worth it."
Kaori tucked a strand of pink-streaked hair behind her ear and shrugged. "Sydney Sweeney wouldn’t lie. She’s got integrity."
Before Trisha could list all the ways we’d probably get kidnapped, I hit CONFIRM.
Four days later, we landed on the island, and the second the plane doors opened, the heat and the bassline hit us like a wave. The beach ahead was alive—palm trees strung with glowing lanterns, groups of glossy-skinned people tangled in hammocks, and the distant sound of someone moaning like they’d just discovered pleasure for the first time.
Nate pushed his sunglasses onto his head, his expression pure delight. "Oh, we’re definitely supposed to be naked here."
He wasn’t wrong. Down by the shoreline, a girl in nothing but body paint was twerking against a guy wearing only a very loose cowboy hat. A group of guys sprinted past, their tans suddenly very even, and two girls were locked in a kiss so aggressive they nearly toppled into the surf.
Trisha’s eyebrows shot up. "Okay, I take it back. This is exactly my brand of cult activity."
A staff member—wearing what could barely be called a bikini—bounced over, dangling neon wristbands in front of us. "Welcome to your best summer ever!" she cheered, snapping them onto our wrists. "Rules are simple: No clothes, no shame, no regrets!"
Behind her, someone shrieked as they jumped off a pier naked, cannonballing into a cheering crowd. Another couple had tequila poured straight onto their bodies, licking it off each other’s stomachs between laughter.
Jade nudged me with her elbow. "Told you we should’ve packed more than sunscreen."
Nate stretched his arms out, breathing in the salty, debauchery-filled air. "This is the kind of horror story I can get behind."
The staff member motioned for us to follow her toward the hotel, her barely-there bikini bottoms swaying hypnotically with every step. Nate and I exchanged a glance, both of us shamelessly locked onto the mesmerizing rhythm of her ass.
"Eyes up here, you two," Trisha snapped, smacking me upside the head hard enough to make my teeth click.
Kaori and Jade flanked Nate, each grabbing a handful of his cheeks—one pinching, the other twisting—until he yelped.
"Ow! Okay, okay!" Nate rubbed his face, grinning despite himself. "What? Like you weren’t looking."
Jade rolled her eyes. "We were. But we have manners."
Kaori smirked, adjusting her sunglasses. "And better poker faces."
The staff member glanced back over her shoulder, clearly aware of the chaos behind her, and winked. "Don’t worry, boys. You’ll have plenty to stare at soon enough."
Trisha groaned. "Oh, we’re doomed."
Once we arrived at the hotel we followed a new staff member—a guy this time—through the hotel’s sleek, glass-walled lobby. His fitted polo barely contained his sculpted shoulders, and the way his tan shorts clung to his thighs was downright criminal. Every step made the fabric shift in ways that had even Trisha biting her lip.
The suite was exactly like the one from the ad—plush white couches, floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing the ocean, and what looked like a champagne tub big enough for six. The staff member turned with a grin, dangling a keycard between his fingers. "Private beach access, 24-hour room service, anything you need." His voice dipped lower. "Just give me a call."
Jade and Kaori were not subtle about their gaze dragging from his chest down to the very noticeable bulge in his shorts. Nate nudged me, smirking.
"Eyes up," I stage-whispered, mimicking Trisha’s earlier scolding.
Trisha didn’t even have the decency to look guilty. "Oh, shut up. Like you two weren’t drooling over the last one."
The staff member chuckled, stretching his arms overhead in a way that made the hem of his polo ride up, revealing a strip of toned abs. "Enjoy your stay," he murmured, tossing the keycard onto the counter with deliberate slowness.
The second the door shut behind him, Nate muttered, "That was absolutely on purpose."
Kaori fanned herself with a menu. "And I respect the hustle."
Jade flopped onto the couch, sighing. "We should just accept that we’re all terrible people."
Trisha popped open the champagne with a satisfying pop. "No regrets, right?"
Nate stretched out on the couch with an exaggerated sigh, tilting his head toward the balcony where we could hear the distant laughter from the beach. "Alright, who's brave enough to hit the nude beach with me?"
Trisha scoffed into her champagne glass. "Oh, come on. You're literally just asking so you can see one of us naked."
Nate didn't even try to deny it, shrugging with a shameless grin. "Guilty as charged. But can you blame me? Like, look at you three." He gestured lazily between them. "Jade, you’ve got that whole goddess of temptation thing going on, Trish, you’re built like a Bond girl, and Kaori—" His smirk deepened. "Kaori’s the real mystery. Always covered up, even in swimsuits. Rash guards? Shorts? I mean, what’s under there, huh?"
Kaori almost choked on her drink, her cheeks flushing pink as she immediately broke into rapid-fire Japanese, hands gesturing wildly like she was trying to bat the words out of the air.
Trisha and Jade practically launched themselves at Nate—Trisha delivering a sharp slap to his chest while Jade went straight for his face, flicking his nose hard. "You animal," Jade hissed, though her lips were twitching with amusement.
I scooted closer to Kaori, rubbing her back while she kept murmuring in Japanese, her fingers twisting nervously in the hem of her oversized shirt. "Hey, ignore him," I said softly. "You know Nate—zero brain-to-mouth filter."
Kaori groaned, pressing her palms to her burning cheeks. "Baka!"
Nate just grinned, rubbing his sore nose. "Worth."
Kaori took a deep breath, fingers finally relaxing from their death grip on her shirt. She turned to me with a small, grateful smile. "Thanks, Jason," she murmured, smoothing her shirt down. "But—under no circumstances am I going to that nude beach." She shot Nate a sharp glare. "And no bikinis."
Nate groaned dramatically, flopping back onto the couch. "You're killing me, Kaori."
Jade rolled her eyes. "Oh no, how ever will you survive without seeing Kaori's forbidden skin—"
Trisha tossed a pillow at his face. "Get over it."
I clapped my hands together. "Alright, since we clearly have divergent interests, how about we split up today?" I glanced around the room. "Explore different parts of the island, report back, and make a proper itinerary for the week?"
Nate perked up immediately. "Nude beach. Calling it."
Trisha snorted. "Of course you are." She stretched her arms overhead before nodding toward the island's center. "I was eyeing that hiking trail up to the mountain. Good views, probably less..." She gestured vaguely toward the window where someone had just shrieked, "CHUG CHUG CHUG!"
Jade was already scrolling through the resort’s food map on her phone. "Buffets. All of them."
Kaori folded her arms, but her expression softened. "Surfing lessons. The clothed kind."
And me? I grinned. "The mall. Rumor has it designer brands here are practically giving stuff away."
Nate whistled. "A man of culture."
Trisha nudged me. "Better grab me something nice."
Jade perked up. "Oh! And if you see any limited-edition K-Beauty—"
Kaori smacked her lightly. "Jade."
We all laughed, the tension from earlier dissolving into easy excitement.
Nate stretched with a smug smirk. "Alright. Let the real Spooky Island adventure begin."
We all went our separate ways, with me making everyone promise to message our group chat if they spotted anything wild—or if Nate ended up mooning the entire beach (again).
The rumors about the mall were no joke. Within an hour, I had a legit Rolex wrapped around my wrist, its polished face glinting under the tropical lights. A hundred bucks. A hundred freaking bucks. I kept checking the paperwork—Spooky Island was listed as an official retailer, fine print and all—but my brain still couldn’t process it.
I was halfway to the limited-edition Jordans display when my blood froze mid-step.
Sydney. Sweeney.
Right there, strolling past the Sunglass Hut like this was any normal Tuesday. And she wasn’t alone. A guy I barely registered—tall, broad, looking equal parts confused and thrilled—was being towed along by her manicured grip, Sydney’s free hand pressing a finger to her lips in a shhh motion.
I didn’t even think. My feet moved before my brain could yell BAD IDEA. They ducked into a discreet hallway marked STAFF ONLY, and by the time I crept close enough to peek, Sydney had the guy pinned against the wall, one hand fisted in his shirt.
Sydney pressed closer, her fingers curling into the man's shirt with predatory grace. "You ever fuck someone with one of these meatsuits yet?" she murmured, her breath hot against his ear.
The guy tensed, swallowing hard. "N-no. Just took this body maybe an hour ago." He blinked twice, rolling his shoulders like the sensation of human skin was still foreign. "Still getting used to the... the equipment."
Sydney snorted, running a fingertip down his chest in a way that made him shiver. "Equipment's the same, no matter what species wears it. Just hotter and sweatier now." Her grin widened, all sharp amusement. "Guess I'm your first proper ride in this flesh, huh?"
The guy exhaled sharply, eyes darting down to where her thigh had slotted between his. "Uh. Yeah."
"Good." Sydney pressed her lips to his pulse point, humming when his nails dug into the wall behind him. "Let me show you how humans play."
My phone buzzed violently in my pocket—Nate: GUYS THE BEACH IS OFFICIALLY A NO-CLOTHES-FROM-THE-WAIST-DOWN ZONE???—but I barely registered it. Because I was too busy trying to process whatever weird-ass conversation Sydney was having with this guy.
Meatsuits? Species? What the hell did that even mean?
But then Sydney pressed her thigh between his legs, and the guy let out a sharp, desperate sound, and suddenly, the existential crisis in my brain took an immediate backseat.
Sydney hooked her fingers in the hem of her dress and yanked it up past her hips, revealing the kind of lingerie that made my blood pressure spike. The guy—who was definitely not confused anymore—lunged forward, mouth meeting hers in a kiss that looked more like a fight for dominance than anything tender.
She shoved him back against the wall, and he went willingly, groaning as her hands slid down his body like she was mapping every inch.
My brain short-circuited as Sydney rocked her hips against the guy, her nails raking down his back hard enough to leave red trails. The guy groaned against her neck, fingers digging into her waist as she rode him with ruthless precision. Every movement was pure hunger—the way she rolled her hips, the way she arched her back as he dragged his teeth along her collarbone. My cock strained against my shorts, aching, and before I could stop myself, I had my hand wrapped around it, stroking in time with Sydney’s rhythm.
She was relentless, bouncing on him with bruising force, her moans low and dark as the guy slammed into her. “Fuck me like you mean it,” she growled, gripping his hair to yank his head back. The guy gasped, his body shuddering, and judging by the way his grip tightened on her hips, he was already close.
I wasn’t far behind. Sydney’s thighs tensed, her body clenching around him as she let out a breathless laugh. “Yeah, that’s it—feel it.” Then she locked onto his mouth, swallowing his moans as he buried himself deep inside her. His whole body went rigid, a choked cry tearing from his throat as he came, pulse after pulse, hands clawing at her skin as she milked him dry.
Sydney followed seconds later, her back arching violently, head thrown back—but instead of a moan, she let out a sound that sent ice through my veins. A rough, guttural snarl, inhuman and raw, like something out of a nightmare.
Holy shit. My fingers clenched, my orgasm hitting me in a wave I couldn’t stop, spurting hot and thick onto the floor between my feet.
The moment I came back to my senses, I was shoving myself back into my shorts, my pulse roaring in my ears. That sound—it wasn’t right. Whatever the hell Sydney was, she wasn’t human, and I needed to be gone.
I didn’t even bother zipping up properly before bolting for the door, my breath coming in sharp, panicked gasps. Just as my fingers brushed the handle, I heard it—Sydney’s sharp inhale.
“Cum,” she muttered, voice dripping with menace.
Dread coiled in my gut as I risked one last glance back. Sydney had dropped into a crouch, her fingers tracing through the mess I’d left behind. Her gaze flicked up—right toward the shadows where I’d been standing—and the growl that followed sent me scrambling forward.
“Someone here still owns their flesh,” she snarled. “And they saw us.”
I didn’t stick around to hear the rest.
Little did you know that the island held a dark secret. It was secretly the den of a clan of demons who steal human bodies with a relic called the Daemon Ritus. They luckily managed to steal Sydney Sweeneys body when she visited the island for a photo shoot… and now she and her fellow demons trick people into going to the island to steal their bodies. You found out about this secret and promised to help out, so long as you get some benefits…
The email notification pinged on my phone just as I was stuffing it into my backpack, and the bold subject line made my heart skip: CONGRATULATIONS! YOU AND YOUR FRIENDS HAVE WON A VIP TRIP TO SPOOKY ISLAND!
"Guys, check this out!" I practically shouted, nearly knocking over Kaori’s iced coffee as I jumped up from the tiny café table. Nate, Jade, Kaori, and Trisha all turned—mid-bickering over who had to sit in the middle seat on the train later—as I shook my phone at them. "We just won an all-expenses-paid trip to Spooky Island!"
Nate snatched the phone out of my hands, scrolling with the urgency of a man about to abandon all responsibilities. "The Spooky Island? The one with the Sydney Sweeney ads where everyone is making out in slow motion?" His grin widened. "Private villas, endless drinks, adult-friendly activities—hell yes."
Trisha flicked a sugar packet at his forehead. "Or, y’know, we end up in some weird Satanic beach ritual à la Midsommar."
Jade smirked, swirling her latte. "Worth it."
Kaori tucked a strand of pink-streaked hair behind her ear and shrugged. "Sydney Sweeney wouldn’t lie. She’s got integrity."
Before Trisha could list all the ways we’d probably get kidnapped, I hit CONFIRM.
Four days later, we landed on the island, and the second the plane doors opened, the heat and the bassline hit us like a wave. The beach ahead was alive—palm trees strung with glowing lanterns, groups of glossy-skinned people tangled in hammocks, and the distant sound of someone moaning like they’d just discovered pleasure for the first time.
Nate pushed his sunglasses onto his head, his expression pure delight. "Oh, we’re definitely supposed to be naked here."
He wasn’t wrong. Down by the shoreline, a girl in nothing but body paint was twerking against a guy wearing only a very loose cowboy hat. A group of guys sprinted past, their tans suddenly very even, and two girls were locked in a kiss so aggressive they nearly toppled into the surf.
Trisha’s eyebrows shot up. "Okay, I take it back. This is exactly my brand of cult activity."
A staff member—wearing what could barely be called a bikini—bounced over, dangling neon wristbands in front of us. "Welcome to your best summer ever!" she cheered, snapping them onto our wrists. "Rules are simple: No clothes, no shame, no regrets!"
Behind her, someone shrieked as they jumped off a pier naked, cannonballing into a cheering crowd. Another couple had tequila poured straight onto their bodies, licking it off each other’s stomachs between laughter.
Jade nudged me with her elbow. "Told you we should’ve packed more than sunscreen."
Nate stretched his arms out, breathing in the salty, debauchery-filled air. "This is the kind of horror story I can get behind."
The staff member motioned for us to follow her toward the hotel, her barely-there bikini bottoms swaying hypnotically with every step. Nate and I exchanged a glance, both of us shamelessly locked onto the mesmerizing rhythm of her ass.
"Eyes up here, you two," Trisha snapped, smacking me upside the head hard enough to make my teeth click.
Kaori and Jade flanked Nate, each grabbing a handful of his cheeks—one pinching, the other twisting—until he yelped.
"Ow! Okay, okay!" Nate rubbed his face, grinning despite himself. "What? Like you weren’t looking."
Jade rolled her eyes. "We were. But we have manners."
Kaori smirked, adjusting her sunglasses. "And better poker faces."
The staff member glanced back over her shoulder, clearly aware of the chaos behind her, and winked. "Don’t worry, boys. You’ll have plenty to stare at soon enough."
Trisha groaned. "Oh, we’re doomed."
Once we arrived at the hotel we followed a new staff member—a guy this time—through the hotel’s sleek, glass-walled lobby. His fitted polo barely contained his sculpted shoulders, and the way his tan shorts clung to his thighs was downright criminal. Every step made the fabric shift in ways that had even Trisha biting her lip.
The suite was exactly like the one from the ad—plush white couches, floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing the ocean, and what looked like a champagne tub big enough for six. The staff member turned with a grin, dangling a keycard between his fingers. "Private beach access, 24-hour room service, anything you need." His voice dipped lower. "Just give me a call."
Jade and Kaori were not subtle about their gaze dragging from his chest down to the very noticeable bulge in his shorts. Nate nudged me, smirking.
"Eyes up," I stage-whispered, mimicking Trisha’s earlier scolding.
Trisha didn’t even have the decency to look guilty. "Oh, shut up. Like you two weren’t drooling over the last one."
The staff member chuckled, stretching his arms overhead in a way that made the hem of his polo ride up, revealing a strip of toned abs. "Enjoy your stay," he murmured, tossing the keycard onto the counter with deliberate slowness.
The second the door shut behind him, Nate muttered, "That was absolutely on purpose."
Kaori fanned herself with a menu. "And I respect the hustle."
Jade flopped onto the couch, sighing. "We should just accept that we’re all terrible people."
Trisha popped open the champagne with a satisfying pop. "No regrets, right?"
Nate stretched out on the couch with an exaggerated sigh, tilting his head toward the balcony where we could hear the distant laughter from the beach. "Alright, who's brave enough to hit the nude beach with me?"
Trisha scoffed into her champagne glass. "Oh, come on. You're literally just asking so you can see one of us naked."
Nate didn't even try to deny it, shrugging with a shameless grin. "Guilty as charged. But can you blame me? Like, look at you three." He gestured lazily between them. "Jade, you’ve got that whole goddess of temptation thing going on, Trish, you’re built like a Bond girl, and Kaori—" His smirk deepened. "Kaori’s the real mystery. Always covered up, even in swimsuits. Rash guards? Shorts? I mean, what’s under there, huh?"
Kaori almost choked on her drink, her cheeks flushing pink as she immediately broke into rapid-fire Japanese, hands gesturing wildly like she was trying to bat the words out of the air.
Trisha and Jade practically launched themselves at Nate—Trisha delivering a sharp slap to his chest while Jade went straight for his face, flicking his nose hard. "You animal," Jade hissed, though her lips were twitching with amusement.
I scooted closer to Kaori, rubbing her back while she kept murmuring in Japanese, her fingers twisting nervously in the hem of her oversized shirt. "Hey, ignore him," I said softly. "You know Nate—zero brain-to-mouth filter."
Kaori groaned, pressing her palms to her burning cheeks. "Baka!"
Nate just grinned, rubbing his sore nose. "Worth."
Kaori took a deep breath, fingers finally relaxing from their death grip on her shirt. She turned to me with a small, grateful smile. "Thanks, Jason," she murmured, smoothing her shirt down. "But—under no circumstances am I going to that nude beach." She shot Nate a sharp glare. "And no bikinis."
Nate groaned dramatically, flopping back onto the couch. "You're killing me, Kaori."
Jade rolled her eyes. "Oh no, how ever will you survive without seeing Kaori's forbidden skin—"
Trisha tossed a pillow at his face. "Get over it."
I clapped my hands together. "Alright, since we clearly have divergent interests, how about we split up today?" I glanced around the room. "Explore different parts of the island, report back, and make a proper itinerary for the week?"
Nate perked up immediately. "Nude beach. Calling it."
Trisha snorted. "Of course you are." She stretched her arms overhead before nodding toward the island's center. "I was eyeing that hiking trail up to the mountain. Good views, probably less..." She gestured vaguely toward the window where someone had just shrieked, "CHUG CHUG CHUG!"
Jade was already scrolling through the resort’s food map on her phone. "Buffets. All of them."
Kaori folded her arms, but her expression softened. "Surfing lessons. The clothed kind."
And me? I grinned. "The mall. Rumor has it designer brands here are practically giving stuff away."
Nate whistled. "A man of culture."
Trisha nudged me. "Better grab me something nice."
Jade perked up. "Oh! And if you see any limited-edition K-Beauty—"
Kaori smacked her lightly. "Jade."
We all laughed, the tension from earlier dissolving into easy excitement.
Nate stretched with a smug smirk. "Alright. Let the real Spooky Island adventure begin."
We all went our separate ways, with me making everyone promise to message our group chat if they spotted anything wild—or if Nate ended up mooning the entire beach (again).
The rumors about the mall were no joke. Within an hour, I had a legit Rolex wrapped around my wrist, its polished face glinting under the tropical lights. A hundred bucks. A hundred freaking bucks. I kept checking the paperwork—Spooky Island was listed as an official retailer, fine print and all—but my brain still couldn’t process it.
I was halfway to the limited-edition Jordans display when my blood froze mid-step.
Sydney. Sweeney.
Right there, strolling past the Sunglass Hut like this was any normal Tuesday. And she wasn’t alone. A guy I barely registered—tall, broad, looking equal parts confused and thrilled—was being towed along by her manicured grip, Sydney’s free hand pressing a finger to her lips in a shhh motion.
I didn’t even think. My feet moved before my brain could yell BAD IDEA. They ducked into a discreet hallway marked STAFF ONLY, and by the time I crept close enough to peek, Sydney had the guy pinned against the wall, one hand fisted in his shirt.
Sydney pressed closer, her fingers curling into the man's shirt with predatory grace. "You ever fuck someone with one of these meatsuits yet?" she murmured, her breath hot against his ear.
The guy tensed, swallowing hard. "N-no. Just took this body maybe an hour ago." He blinked twice, rolling his shoulders like the sensation of human skin was still foreign. "Still getting used to the... the equipment."
Sydney snorted, running a fingertip down his chest in a way that made him shiver. "Equipment's the same, no matter what species wears it. Just hotter and sweatier now." Her grin widened, all sharp amusement. "Guess I'm your first proper ride in this flesh, huh?"
The guy exhaled sharply, eyes darting down to where her thigh had slotted between his. "Uh. Yeah."
"Good." Sydney pressed her lips to his pulse point, humming when his nails dug into the wall behind him. "Let me show you how humans play."
My phone buzzed violently in my pocket—Nate: GUYS THE BEACH IS OFFICIALLY A NO-CLOTHES-FROM-THE-WAIST-DOWN ZONE???—but I barely registered it. Because I was too busy trying to process whatever weird-ass conversation Sydney was having with this guy.
Meatsuits? Species? What the hell did that even mean?
But then Sydney pressed her thigh between his legs, and the guy let out a sharp, desperate sound, and suddenly, the existential crisis in my brain took an immediate backseat.
Sydney hooked her fingers in the hem of her dress and yanked it up past her hips, revealing the kind of lingerie that made my blood pressure spike. The guy—who was definitely not confused anymore—lunged forward, mouth meeting hers in a kiss that looked more like a fight for dominance than anything tender.
She shoved him back against the wall, and he went willingly, groaning as her hands slid down his body like she was mapping every inch.
My brain short-circuited as Sydney rocked her hips against the guy, her nails raking down his back hard enough to leave red trails. The guy groaned against her neck, fingers digging into her waist as she rode him with ruthless precision. Every movement was pure hunger—the way she rolled her hips, the way she arched her back as he dragged his teeth along her collarbone. My cock strained against my shorts, aching, and before I could stop myself, I had my hand wrapped around it, stroking in time with Sydney’s rhythm.
She was relentless, bouncing on him with bruising force, her moans low and dark as the guy slammed into her. “Fuck me like you mean it,” she growled, gripping his hair to yank his head back. The guy gasped, his body shuddering, and judging by the way his grip tightened on her hips, he was already close.
I wasn’t far behind. Sydney’s thighs tensed, her body clenching around him as she let out a breathless laugh. “Yeah, that’s it—feel it.” Then she locked onto his mouth, swallowing his moans as he buried himself deep inside her. His whole body went rigid, a choked cry tearing from his throat as he came, pulse after pulse, hands clawing at her skin as she milked him dry.
Sydney followed seconds later, her back arching violently, head thrown back—but instead of a moan, she let out a sound that sent ice through my veins. A rough, guttural snarl, inhuman and raw, like something out of a nightmare.
Holy shit. My fingers clenched, my orgasm hitting me in a wave I couldn’t stop, spurting hot and thick onto the floor between my feet.
The moment I came back to my senses, I was shoving myself back into my shorts, my pulse roaring in my ears. That sound—it wasn’t right. Whatever the hell Sydney was, she wasn’t human, and I needed to be gone.
I didn’t even bother zipping up properly before bolting for the door, my breath coming in sharp, panicked gasps. Just as my fingers brushed the handle, I heard it—Sydney’s sharp inhale.
“Cum,” she muttered, voice dripping with menace.
Dread coiled in my gut as I risked one last glance back. Sydney had dropped into a crouch, her fingers tracing through the mess I’d left behind. Her gaze flicked up—right toward the shadows where I’d been standing—and the growl that followed sent me scrambling forward.
“Someone here still owns their flesh,” she snarled. “And they saw us.”
I didn’t stick around to hear the rest.
possession
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Cynthia doesn't want anything to do with Stanley, the creep who lives next door. But Stanley is willing to go to great lengths to get what he wants, including making a deal with a dangerous entity that offers to become a mirror clone of Cynthia. All he has to do, is give it the opportunity to come into our world.
Part 1: Cynthia
“Cynthia! You have a present!”
As my mom’s voice rang through the house, I was initially excited. I mean, a present is a good thing. Images of jewelry, chocolate, or something cute and fluffy had me bounding from my room, down the stairs, and walking into our entryway where my mom held a thin rectangular wrapped package. That’s when she added the catch. “It’s from that nice neighbor boy, Stanley.”
Images of anything sweet or cute vanished from my mind as I thought of what Stanley might have given me. The guy was a total creep, and unfortunately for me, he lived next door. I’ve known him all my life. We’re the same age. I had to go to school with him. I watched him go from a weird short kid, to a tall skinny even weirder kid. A huge benefit of going to college in a month is that I won’t have to see him lurking at the window across from mine anymore. He’s the reason I keep my curtains permanently closed. I caught him peeping on me while changing once. I totally remember how his gaunt face was turned down, his eyes boring into me, making me feel so exposed. Yeah, I never gave him that opportunity ever again.
“Aren’t you going to open it?” my mom asked curiously.
I looked at the flat rectangular package my mom is holding. It’s wrapped in plain brown paper and is as tall as she is, not that that’s very tall. Then again, neither am I. Mom and I are the same height, same dark hair, same basic build, except with one major difference. She’s got a lot more in the chest department. That’s what having kids will do to you I suppose.
“Ugh,” I sighed as I approached the package like it was a bomb about to go off.
My mom chided my obvious apprehension. “Sweetie, don’t be like that. That boy went to the trouble of wrapping this and bringing it over to you. You should be grateful. And if it is what I think it is, you’ll need to go tell him thank you before the day is over.”
“Yeah, I don’t think so,” I muttered as I reached up to tear off a corner of the package. I was met with a smooth. Mom was right. “It’s a mirror alright.”
“He must have known you wanted one for your room! What a thoughtful young man.”
What a stalker, I thought. I talked on social media recently that I was looking for a full length mirror for my room. I’m not sure how Stanley knew though since I always block his attempts to follow or friend me. Apparently he snuck in using a made up profile. Wonderful.
I gripped the edges and told my mom, “I’ll go set it up in my room. Why don’t you go be the one to tell creepy neighbor boy thank you.”
My mom crossed her arms. “He’s been a perfect gentleman to you this past year,” she argued. “There’s no need to call him that.”
As I walked away I countered over my shoulder with, “I’m thinking of all the other times when he was trying to look down my shirt or up my dress or brush against me in the hallways or…” I trailed off, knowing mom would take his side. I’d told her about Stanley spying on me. We’d gone to confront him together, or so I thought. He'd apologized immediately when we showed up at his door. He looked so weak and pathetic that mom made ME apologize to him for changing in front of my window. I love my mom, but that memory still really pissed me off.
I marched into my room and tore the rest of the paper from the mirror, then set it up against the wall opposite my bed. It was actually a very nice mirror. I hoped it cost him a lot of money. Knowing him he probably got it for cheap from a thrift store or something and then installed cameras in it.
I instantly let my eyes dart around the edges looking for a little notch where a hidden camera might go. Thankfully I saw nothing but dark trim.
Convinced I wasn't being spied on, I took a moment to study my cute self in the mirror. I’m still rocking my dark hair in long braided pigtails. They’d been mom’s idea. She wanted to see me in them one last time before I leave next month. I think she’s gonna have a hard time cutting the cord when I go.
I gave my outfit an assessment. It’s my favorite green romper that hugs my slender frame and shows off my smooth pale legs. I’m not wearing a bra cause it’s a Saturday morning and I got nowhere to be. I smiled back at my round face, and I can’t help but think that I am a real cutie. I don’t consider myself a narcissist, but I’m proud of my body and the attention it gets. I’m currently single, but not for lack of boys trying.
That’s the problem though. They’re boys. I want a man, and I’m happy to wait till I’m in college in the fall. I’ll meet a tall handsome guy with sexy abs and rippling biceps and I’ll bring him home during break and maybe have him kick the shit out of the creepy neighbor boy.
A chill runs over me, interrupting my daydream. Something just seemed out of place in the mirror. My reflection was smiling. That should mean that I’m smiling too, but…I don’t think I’ve ever smiled in such a creepy way. It’s the kind of smile I’ve seen in horror movies, where the killer reveals a big terrible secret.
And then I watch dumbfounded as my reflection began to move. My hands reached up to my shoulders and pulled down the straps of my jumper. What?! No. No! I’m not doing this! I think. But then I felt the cool air of my room as it hit my bare skin. I don’t know how, but I am being made to mirror my own reflection! I watched in alarm as my mirror self brought my arms through the straps, which let the top half of my jumper fall down to my waist. There were my perky B cups. My nipples were stiff and pointy, exactly how they get when I’m turned on. But I’m not turned on right now. I’m confused and scared.
I felt like a marionette on a string as my reflection’s hands pushed my romper all the way down my legs, which made me do the same. I’m forced to straighten, and then I feel incredibly exposed as the eyes in the mirror move slowly over my body. I wasn’t completely naked. I still had on my pastel pink panties. They were my favorite pair, even though they rode up a little more than I’d like. I felt my lips curl up into a copy of the mischievous smile that stared back at me as I was made to grip the hem of those panties. I wasn’t forced to pull them down, but lifted them up. I felt the fabric slip deep between my buttcrack as I essentially gave myself a wedgie. Then my fingers reached back, and I began to grope my own ass.
I thought it might be over when my hand pulled away, but then it came back in a rush as I was forced to give my butt cheek a sharp smack. I wanted to scream in protest. I wanted to cry for help. To plead for my mom to come into my room and cut the invisible strings that were making me act out everything my reflection was doing. But I couldn’t make a sound. I could only smile. A smile that had become creepier and creepier until it resembled something malevolent. And then my legs began to move, slowly turning me away from the mirror.
I thought whatever was puppeteering me would stop when I couldn’t see my reflection anymore. I believed that once I couldn’t see my reflection’s horrific smile, my body would be under my own power again. I suppose in a way, I was both right, and wrong. As my eyes left the mirror’s edge, I saw nothing but an empty void beyond me. I suddenly found I had control again. I didn’t want to look back at that damned mirror, but there was nothing else to see. So I reluctantly looked, and there was my room. My bed. My reflection. Except, my reflection was facing away from me now. It was bending over and picking up my romper and getting dressed again.
But I wasn’t being made to do that. I was standing and staring at myself getting dressed WITHOUT doing it. And then I heard a voice. My own voice, but different somehow. It was like a recording of a recording, and tinged with malice that filled me with dread. It wasn’t coming from my side of the mirror. It was coming from the other side. The side that had a right and a left instead of an empty void. THAT side was the real word, and I had somehow gotten trapped on the mirror side.
“You have a lovely body, Cynthia,” my mirror self said as it turned back to face me. “Stanley said you would. I will enjoy using it to honor our deal I made with him. He’s been looking forward to getting his hands on your juicy ass and perky tits for quite some time.”
“No!” I shrieked from the mirror. I wanted to reach back into my world, to swap with whatever this thing that looked like me was, but my hands hit an invisible barrier. I watched helplessly as my mirror self went to the door, winked in my direction, and then disappeared. I learned then where reflections go when a person walks away from the mirror. Nowhere.
Part 2: Mirror Cynthia
The silent cries that only I could hear were instantly muffled the second I stepped out of the room. My absence would effectively put the girl on a pause of sorts, held in a temporal place between worlds while I took her body away from the object that had given me access to the human world once more.
It was good to be on this side of the mirror again, and in a body that was able to enjoy all the sensations that came with it. I walked purposefully down the stairs and stepped into a living room. The padded carpet felt divine under my bare feet.
A woman approached me with a tentative smile. My cloned memories told me she was the real Cynthia’s mother. “So, what did you think of the mirror sweetie?” she asked.
I placed a warm smile on my face to put her at ease. It’s not in my kind’s nature to tell the truth very often, but this time it dripped from my tongue. “It’s perfect, Mom. I’m going to go thank Stanley for it right now.”
The woman clasped her hands together and beamed at me in approval. “That’s really great, sweetie. It’s the right thing to do. Maybe this is the thing that will help you two end on a positive note before you head off to college.”
“I’m sure it will,” I said with a dark twinkle in my eye. “Goodbye, mother.” And then I was out the door, on my way to where my master was waiting.
I rang the doorbell of the house next door, and an auburn hair woman in her mid forties answered the door. She was a little chubby, but had a pretty face, and a very ample bosom. She seemed surprised by my appearance. I knew why. It’s because the real Cynthia had accused her son of spying on her.
“Hello, Mrs. Cooper,” I said with a sickly sweet tone. “Is Stanley in?”
She eyed me suspiciously. “He is, Cynthia. What’s this about?”
“He gave me a wonderful gift, and I was hoping I could thank him, and also…maybe mend some fences, if that’s alright?”
Her face softened, and then she began nodding cheerfully,like she was eager for her loner son to have a playdate. She walked from the entryway into the living room. I followed close behind. I surveyed the living room and saw Stanley’s father. He was a tall handsome man with more salt than pepper in his hair. He glanced up from his phone, and his eyes temporarily froze on my chest. My tits were poking out underneath the tight green romper. He’d noticed. He was thinking about them. About pinching them with a thumb and finger. About getting his mouth on them. I grinned at him, but he did not see. He only saw my perky tits.
“Stanley! You have a guest!”
This jolted Mr. Cooper out of his twisted fantasy. For a split second his eyes met mine, and I blew him a kiss. His face went very red, and his eyes snapped back to his phone. He did have to take a moment to adjust the tent in his pants though.
I turned at the sound of footsteps on the stairs. As soon as Stanley saw me, he acted as surprised as his mother had. He shouldn’t have been. I had told him exactly what would happen. He just hadn’t believed me. Probably because most humans struggle with believing anything that falls outside their traditional norms. Most refuse to believe my kind even exists these days. We are the stuff of superstition and fiction that are only spoken of in books and movies.
I can smell the human male from here. He probably hasn’t showered in a few days, and has just been marinating in that wrinkled black t-shirt he’s currently wearing. From the waist down he’s got on a dingy pair of light gray sweatpants. His unkempt hair, big round glasses, and the way he’s gawking at me would be enough to make most girls his age want to walk away. But I am not a girl. I only look like one. And it just so happens to be the one he wanted enough to sell his soul for.
“No way,” Stanley finally muttered as he began to walk around me. “Did it work?”
Mrs. Cooper frowned at her son. “Did what work? And stop staring at her like she’s a piece of meat, Stan. My word.” To me the woman said, “I do apologize, dear. I swear he lost all his manners when the hormones hit.”
I angled my body slightly so it accentuated my curves, then said while looking him right in the eye. “That’s okay. I don’t mind if he stares. I want him too actually.”
I wanted to laugh as Mrs. Cooper didn’t know what to make of that statement. She was looking between us, not understanding what was happening. Finally she decided she didn’t like it.
“Why don’t you both sit down in the living room, and I can bring you all out some snacks,” she offered, clearly trying to take control of the situation.
“I just need a moment in private with your son,” I said, and then bit my lower lip as my eyes dropped to Stan’s crotch. Sure enough, he had a bulge.
“Let’s go to my room,” Stanley said quickly.
Mrs. Cooper hesitated, clearly feeling the sudden sexual tension in the air. She countered with, “Okay, but, um, leave the door open at all times.”
“Mom!” Stan blustered. “I’m not a kid!”
Mrs. Cooper’s lips tightened across her face as her hands went to her hips. “That very well may be, young man. But you are still under our roof.” Her hands gestured towards his father. “And we make the rules. So that’s why any time you have a lady over, you keep the door to your room open when she’s inside.”
Still looking at his phone, Mr. Cooper said, “Stan’s never had a lady over before though so when did we make up that-”
“Shut up, Charles,” Mrs. Cooper said sharply, causing Mr. Cooper’s head to dip even lower into his phone. It was obvious who wore the pants in this family.
She regarded me and her son again, then gave a firm, “I’m afraid that’s how it is, kids. Take it or leave it.”
Stanley glared at his mom before saying an angsty, “Fine!”
He turned to walk away, but I darted ahead of him to the stairs and began to walk up them. I was several steps up when I looked back. He hadn’t moved. He was just staring up at my ass, which had been my goal. I gave him a wink, then continued on. I heard him rush up the stairs after me. He slowed when he got right behind me. I could feel his hot breath on my neck. He wanted so badly to touch me. He would soon get his chance.
I strode into his bedroom. Despite me assuring that I would soon be bringing a copy of the woman he’s been obsessing over, he had not bothered to tidy up. Smelly clothes littered the floor, along with a copious amount of wadded up tissues.
I pointed at the tissues and said, “Is there cum in those, Stanley?” I ran my hands down my sides like the thought was turning me on. “Did you jack off while thinking about this body?”
“It really worked?” he rasped. “You’re in her body?”
“No,” I corrected as I spun him so that his back was to his bed. “Her body is back in the mirror. This body is born of her reflection. It is now the vessel I will use to pay you back for freeing me. Now get your cock out.” With that, I pushed him onto his bed. While he awkwardly pulled his member free, I quickly shed my clothes, pulling the romper down.
Stanley obeyed, even as he looked at his open door and said, “What about my mom?”
As his hard cock came into view I gave him a sly grin. “Oh, I don’t think this will take too long, Stanley.” I crawled on top of him. He looked both excited and scared now. “Based on our previous conversations, I know how much you’ve built up this moment in your mind. I can assure you though, it’s not even close to how good I’m going to make you feel.”
“Oh,” he said in a faint whimper.
I positioned myself over his crotch. I lifted up his rigid cock, and sank my tight little pussy all the way down his shaft. He gasped as I knew he would. I began to bounce straightaway, not giving him time to process or to plead with me to slow down. All he could do was hold on as I gave him exactly what he wanted.
“Look at me, Stan,” I said, the wicked smile returning to my face as I began to rock back and forth on him. “I’m yours. This body belongs to you, and I’ll let you fuck me whenever you want. Because you freed me, master. You freed me.”
“Y-yeah,” he groaned. “I did. Y-you’re mine.”
I brought his hands up to my tits.” Go on, touch them. Touch me anywhere you want.”
Clammy hands began to grope me and squeeze me roughly. I didn’t mind at all. My kind thrive on pain.
The bedsprings were squeaking now, and the end of his bed began to smack loudly against his wall. After a few seconds he seemed to register the sound. “We have to be quiet,” he begged helplessly.
“Not till you cum, master,” I said, my smile stretching ever wider.
We both heard it then. A foot being placed loudly at the bottom of the stairs. Then another right after it.
“Stanley?” Mrs. Cooper called out.
“Shit! My mom!” he hissed, panic rising in his voice. He tried to move, to throw me off, but I held him fast with inhuman strength.
I tripled my pace. He looked so pathetic and desperate. It wouldn’t be long now.
More footsteps. Their pace quickened, hastened by the sound of someone fucking in this room. That’s right, someone’s fucking your precious little awkward pervert of a son, Mrs. Cooper. He’s about to give me a big load. If you hurry, you might get to see it.
“Stop,” he croaked. “She’s gonna…AW!”
Delicious heat flowed into me. After what seemed like a thousand years of cold and empty void, this heat shot up into the depths of me was a gift beyond measure. I put my hands around Stanley’s neck and I squeezed as my pussy did the same around his cock.
“What is going on in here!” Mrs. Cooper demanded two seconds later. She looked into the room and saw…me, fully clothed, sitting next to Stanley, who was also fully clothed. The woman did a double take. She seemed certain she was about to catch us doing something. Probably the thing we’d been doing 2.5 seconds ago. Thankfully for Stanley, my kind can move VERY fast when we need to.
I pointed to the yearbook that was open between my and Stanley’s lap. “We were just looking over the years together,” I said with an innocent smile and an innocent tilt of my head.
Stanley’s head was lolling, and it was clear he was trying to get his bearings. That made sense since he’d just cum, been lifted up in the air and slammed into his clothes and dropped back onto his bed in the span of 1.5 seconds. Under the yearbook, I gave his limp dick a playful squeeze. “You finally got good looking this past year,” I giggled.
He twitched, then looked at me, then at his mom. Finally he gave a squeaky, “Yup!”
His mom looked at the two of us like we were thieves caught red handed but had successfully destroyed the evidence. She pointed to just down the hall. “I’ll be right next door in my room if you need anything.”
She’d delivered that not as a fact, but as a threat.
“Sounds great, Mrs. Cooper,” I said, still as innocent as a dove while giving her son’s cock another squeeze.
“Actually, um, uh,” Stanley said as he tried to get control of the situation, “we’re about to head back downstairs.”
Mrs. Cooper seemed to take this as a victory. “Oh, good.” She suddenly became aware of the state of Stanley’s room. “Stanley, for the love of…please throw away your jerk off tissues.”
She’d said it to embarrass him. A little dig that was meant to shame and send me running for the hills. But I pressed down on his cock, which was already getting hard again and said, “I think it’s kind of hot.”
Mrs. Cooper leveled her gaze at me. “What did you just say, young lady?”
I returned her seething tone with a timid petulance. “I said I think they’re full of snot.”
My words rattled around in her brain as she tried to figure out what to believe. Finally she said, “Well, just clean them up, Stan.” With that she went off to her room.
I threw the yearbook onto his pillow and said, “What would you have me do now, master?”
Stanley’s smile split ear to ear. “I can’t believe this worked. Cynthia’s really, uh, I mean, you’re really mine now.”
“That was the deal, master. Provide me with a portal into your world along with a vessel you desired and were willing to sacrifice, and I would serve you using her likeness.” I wrapped my arms around his thin shoulders and brought my mouth to his ear. I just breathed for a few seconds. It felt good to breathe, and I let the hot sticky breath flow around his sensitive ear. “When will you want me again, master?” I asked. “Please tell me it’ll be soon.”
He looked nervously in the direction of his mother’s room. “Uh…well like I said when I made the deal with you, you’ll have to keep up appearances. No one can know that you’re not really Cynthia.”
“Of course not,” I lied, as I licked up the side of his face with my tongue.
He shuddered at the wet sensation against his cheek. I know if his mom weren’t in the room next to us, I could get him to fuck me again in no time.
“So…um, I guess right now, go back to your house and pretend to be the real Cynthia until I call you.”
Go back to the house. To where the mirror now resided. This was all going according to plan. “Of course, master.”
“And uh…” he said, sounding anxious.
I put a hand on his other cheek and spoke sweetly to him. “It’s okay, master. What else would you have me do?”
He blurted out quietly, “Always keep the curtains to your window open from now on.”
I grinned. “Master is such a pervert for this body. It makes my pussy so wet.” I leaned in and gave him a long, lingering kiss. “I can’t wait to feel your eyes on me as I undress, master. Please, don’t keep me waiting long.”
We walked back down the stairs. I was still warmed by Stan’s cum deposited inside of me. His father glanced up as I walked through the living room. His eyes went to my tits again, and then to my face. He saw I was watching him, and I blew him another kiss. This time he didn’t look away. He would no doubt think of me the next time he fucked his wife.
At the threshold of his house, away from his parents’ prying eyes, I let Stanley cup my ass and squeeze it as I told him, “My ‘parents’ are leaving early tomorrow morning for an outing the mother planned a few weeks back. I’ll be in the house all by myself.”
I watched Stan swallow at the open invite. “I gotta do some stuff for my dad in the morning, but I’ll come over as soon as I can.”
I gave his crotch a little pat and said, “See that you do.”
I left and went back home where my ‘mom’ wanted a full report.
“It was great,” I said with feigned sincerity. “Stan is a really great guy. I thanked him for the mirror, and even asked if he wanted to hang out tomorrow.”
My wife was over the moon about this. I gave her a hug, enjoying the sensation of her large boobs pressed against my smaller ones. And then I retired to my room.
The second I got there, the real Cynthia’s palms slammed against her side of the mirror. And then she was pressing her face up against it. “Let me out!” she demanded. “No one will believe that you’re me!”
I laughed wickedly, then put a finger to my chin and said sweetly, “Mom, I’m going over to Stanley’s. I want to thank him for the mirror by riding his hard cock. I bet I can make him cum in under a minute.”
The real Cynthia’s eyes grew wide as saucers. Her palm hit the other side of the mirror again. “You’re lying!”
I nodded as I began to take off the romper, slowly this time. I was in no hurry now. “That’s true. I didn’t tell your mom that I was going over to fuck the boy whose been obssessed with you all his life. But that is exactly what happened.”
I pushed the romper all the way down. I ran my hand down to the perfectly identical copy of the real Cynthia’s slit, and parted it with two fingers. A small bit of Stanley’s cum dribbled out.
The real Cynthia’s face twisted in disgust at seeing herself do something so perverted. She began shaking her head in denial while saying, “No…no. No you didn’t.”
“It’s a pity you didn’t get to enjoy it, but in a way I can help you enjoy sloppy seconds.
“Fuck you,” the real Cynthia spat, and she spit a glob of saliva that hit her side of the mirror.
“That’s precisely what I intend to do. My brothers, please, assist her.”
All of a sudden fear gripped the real Cynthia, as hundreds of invisible hands tightened around every inch of her skin. They moved her until she was positioned in a way that made her MY reflection. Her hand was down to her slit, her fingers parting her. And as I slid a finger in, so did she.
“Please, stop,” she begged.
I narrowed my eyes, and an invisible hand clamped over her mouth, silencing her protests. I began making her finger herself in time with me, pushing Stan’s cum deeper and deeper into my pussy as I did so.
“He wanted you so bad, Cynthia,” I moaned. “It was so easy to make him cum with your tight pussy. His mother heard us. She no longer thinks of you as the girl next door, but the slut that might ruin his future.”
The real Cynthia tried to shake her head, but couldn’t. All she could do was whimper and moan as I made her rub herself.
After a few minutes, I scooped up a finger of cum with a finger. I brought it to my mouth. The real Cynthia did the same. “Oh, I’m sorry,” I said. “I forgot, your cunt doesn’t have any of Stanley’s sweet cum. Here, I’ll share.” With that, I brought my cum laden finger to the mirror, making the real Cynthia do the same. When I withdrew it, the cum was now on her finger. I brought it to my mouth again, forcing her to mirror me. The invisible hand opened her mouth, and several more helped her push it onto her tongue so she could taste our master’s seed. I kept my finger in my mouth for a full minute so she would have to do the same, pushing it deeper, making her rub his cum all around her cheek and tongue.
Then I made her body writhe and contort while I played with her mirror self. I knew exactly how and where she liked to be touched, and I brought her right to the edge again and again.
“Cum with me, Cynthia,” I finally told her. “Let these bodies bask in the pleasure together..”
“Let me talk to Stanley!” she said with wasted breath. “Please! I’ll tell him I’m sorry! I’ll even let him sleep with the real me! Just have him get me out of here!”
I smiled, my teeth showing unnaturally sharp points. “I’ll let you talk to him tomorrow. If you cum with me, right now.”
The look she gave me then is something my kind live for. A moment of brokenness where a pathetic human gives in. After a conflicted second where she knew she didn’t have a choice, she allowed the pleasure to sweep over her, and climaxed with me. As she did, energy shot out from her side of the mirror, briefly revealing the thousands of my kind surrounding her. It was very lucky for her that her eyes were closed.
I released her afterwards. She wanted to keep whining and pleading with me, but she had nothing I wanted at present. So I put the blanket over the mirror, and enjoyed the silence as I lay away in bed, cumming over and over throughout the night.
In the morning, I went downstairs and fed this body in front of the parents. Not because I needed food, but for show. The mother reminded me that she was going out with the father and wouldn’t be back until evening. I did not care about the details. I just smiled, told her I’d miss them because that’s what she wanted to hear, and then went back upstairs. When they left, I called Stanley.
“Her parents are gone,” I said in a low, needy voice. “Come over. This body wants you to fuck it again. And the Cynthia that’s trapped in the mirror would like to speak with you. I would really like to see that as well.”
Stanley made excuses about having to do something for his father, but then would be right there. To pass the time, I threw off the blanket covering the mirror, and made the real Cynthia masturbate some more. I loved watching her face as I cum. The face I’ll see her make later though, will be exquisite.
I’m covered in a sheen of sweat when Stanley finally arrives. He walks into the room and I see the anxiousness etched on his face as he looks between me and the real Cynthia in the mirror. He had a real hand in trapping her there, and I’m curious as to what he’ll say.
I nod subtly, and my brothers inside the mirror plane let Cynthia go. She begins babbling immediately.
“Stanley, please, get me out of here. I’m sorry for telling on you for spying on me. I’m sorry for treating you like a leper at school. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. If you get me out of here, I’ll do whatever you want me to do.”
It’s a good pitch, and as she delivered it, I saw several different emotions run across the Stanley’s face . Sorrow. Anger. Despair. Hope. Frustration. Lust.
It’s that last one though that I use to stay in control. I pressed my naked, sweaty flesh against him and whispered into his ear, “You know that I’ll let you do whatever you want me as well, Stanley. But I’ll do it better than she can. Sluttier than she can. And I won’t be faking it. And I’ll do it all, every twisted kinky thing you want me to do, until the day you die.” I snaked a hand down his pants. My words, and perhaps my current slick and naked state, had already made him hard. “Let’s fuck in front of her,” I said in his ear, which caused him to shudder and his dick to twitch.
He let out a breath, then looked at the real Cynthia with cold eyes and said, “Sure thing.”
“Master is so naughty,” I said with a wink at the real Cynthia. “How do you want me master?”
“No!” the real Cynthia protested, but a second later, I’d muted her with a nod to my kind trapped on her side.
Stanley considered for a moment, then said, “Get on all fours and face the mirror.”
I knew I liked this human. “Yes, Master!” I said exuberantly. I got on all fours and put my ass in the air. I made eye contact with the real Cynthia, whose eyes were being held open so she didn’t miss a second of what was about to happen. “Oh yes master! Right there!” I exclaimed as Stanley suddenly penetrated me from behind. “I love it when you shove it in so deep that your balls slap against my ass.”
It was different than how I’d fucked him yesterday. He was very aggressive, trying to punish her through me. That only made it better. We both locked eyes on the woman he’d condemned to that side of the mirror. I made faces of exaggerated ecstasy while he looked at her with hate.
“Please, master,” I begged, my voice sounding as pitiful as the real Cynthia’s had earlier. “Slap my ass and tell me I belong to you!”
A sharp smack later and Stanley said, “You’re mine, Cynthia. All mine. Forever.”
“Oh thank you master!” I squealed. “It’s so totally true! I am all yours!”
The real Cynthia got to see Stanley cum in me first hand this time. I knew it was something she thought Stanley would never get to do in a hundred million years. Technically, he hadn’t. But as a perfect mirror image of her, he’d never be able to tell the difference.
I let him rest, then we fucked some more, all in front of the mirror. After a shower, he ate me out, we 69’d, I rode him, and finally I let him be on top. That was the only position I will try to keep to a minimum, because he is terrible at it.
Stanley’s mother called him on his phone after he’d been gone for four hours. He ignored it at first, but eventually answered. I overheard a terse back and forth where his mother demanded to know where he was, and he lied and said a friend’s, but she told him that his phone location was on and she knew exactly where he was. They yelled back and forth and the idiot actually called me his girlfriend. What a foolish human.
His mom responded with a very loud, “That slut is NOT your girlfriend.”
That prompted him to hang up the phone. I expected, no, HOPED that his mother would march over here and confront him. But she didn’t.
We ate, which again I did for show, and I gave him a couple of hours to recharge. We were lounging on his couch naked when Cynthia’s parents got home. Stanley went into full panic mode. He wanted to bolt out the back door. I slapped him in the face and said, “Follow me.”
He was stunned, but only for a second. Then he followed. I liked how easy this human was to manipulate. Sure, l call him ‘master,’ but he is not the one in control.
We’re upstairs and back in Cynthia’s room, just as her parents entered the front door. I pointed to the closet and said to Stanley, “Get in there and keep quiet.”
He did. It was a folding door with slats. It would allow Stanley a great view of everything that was about to transpire. I nodded towards my brothers in the mirror and said, “It’s time. Decide who will join me.”
The real Cynthia started to ask what I was talking about, but suddenly the invisible hands made her be my reflection again. In a flurried rush, I spun in place. All signs of sweat vanished and I smelled like I’d just stepped out of the shower. I put on cute pajamas that Cynthia’s mother had given her last Christmas. I looked at my ‘reflection,’ who appeared exactly the same as me. It’s not hard to manipulate the image when my kind has full control of what happens on that side of the mirror.
Footsteps could be heard, and I knew it was the mother coming to check on her baby girl. I arranged my face into an expression of delight that she’d returned home, which forced Cynthia to do the same. She looked as if she was happy to be on that side of the mirror. Only her eyes gave away the fact that something was wrong. That made sense, because the eyes are the window to the soul. I wondered if her mother would notice. She might. But by the time she does, it will be too late.
Part 3: Stanley
I noticed that Cynthia’s closet smelled really nice. Mine probably smelled like a garbage dump. It’s where I shove things I don’t wanna think about. Mom has been on my case to clean it, but I don’t see that happening anything soon. Cynthia, well, this new Cynthia, hadn’t complained about the smell of my clothes or my room. She’d jumped my bones without wrinkling her nose even once.
The clothes in the closet brushed against me. In the dim light I saw one was a fuzzy pink sweater. I’d seen her take that one off once. I’d seen her take off more than a few of these from the vantage point I had from my window into hers. I hated that the real Cynthia had caught me peeping on her that one time. She didn’t know I’d been doing it for quite some time. I’d even recorded some of them. I’m sure I could tell this version of Cynthia, who I now considered MY Cynthia. She wouldn’t care. She would probably think it was hot. She might ask to watch it with me while we fuck.
I gave a quiet laugh as my pervy thoughts had made me hard again. Despite how many times we’d had sex today, I was ready to go. Probably wouldn’t be able to though. Not with Cynthia’s mom and dad home. Plus I probably needed to get back to my own house, where my mom will no doubt read me the riot act for being out so late. She’s gotta learn that I’m not a kid anymore. I’m a grown man. I really should get a part time job so I can move out, but…I really don’t wanna.
If I can prove to them that Cynthia and I are together now, maybe they’ll let her move in with me. Oh, I could probably order MY Cynthia to get a job, what with me being her master and all. I love when she calls me that.
My thoughts are interrupted as Mrs. Duncan walks into the bedroom. In many ways she’s identical to her daughter. Same dark hair, same bone structure, and same pretty face. But Mrs. Duncanr was an inch taller. She wore her hair straight and it stopped at her shoulders. She’s a little thick around the middle, and her boobs are fucking awesome. Honestly, I wished Cynthia had her mom’s boobs. From my hiding place I saw Cynthia’s mom embrace her and nestle the side of Cynthia’s face right between those big milf tits. I was insanely jealous. Maybe if I got Cynthia pregnant she’d get those big boobs like her mother. Wait, could this version of Cynthia get pregnant? I mean…I’m very aware that she’s not exactly human, but…she certainly feels like it when I got my dick all up inside her tight pussy.
“Did you bring me home anything?” Cynthia asked sweetly.
Her mom laughed and said, “I always do, don’t I?”
“Ooh, what?” Cynthia asked.
“It’s a surprise. You’ll have to come downstairs and see.”
I sighed. I didn’t want Cynthia to leave the room. I wanted her to get her mom to leave, and then sneak me out. I should have just left earlier! Why had Cynthia banished me to the closet?
“One second, mom,” Cynthia continued. “First I have a surprise for you!”
Mrs. Duncan raised her eyebrows and looked around. “For me? What is it?”
Cynthia used a sweeping arm gesture towards the mirror. “It’s the chance to look at yourself in my new mirror!”
Mrs. Duncan laughed. “Oh, well, how thoughtful.” She tossed her dark hair dramatically as if she were a movie star, then went and stood dead center in front of the mirror. She struck a pose with her chest up, and her left leg out and bent slightly at the knee. “Yup, still got it.”
“You look so beautiful, mom,” Cynthia purred as she stole behind Mrs. Duncan.
From the slit in the closet, I could see that my Cynthia was talking to her ‘mom,’ but she was looking right at me. It’s like she was trying to get me to pay attention, like she was about to do something.
“Well thank you sweetie,” Mrs. Duncan said with a wide smile. “That’s very nice of you to say.” But the smile faltered on her face as the person she thought was her daughter put her hands around her middle, and very purposefully brought them up to her tits.
“I bet my master thinks you’re beautiful too,” Cynthia said sweetly in the woman’s ear. “And I think he’d like to fuck you.”
I could tell Mrs. Duncan wanted to say something, but she seemed to have lost the ability to speak. She seemed to kind of freeze up actually, but only for a moment. And then the smile was back on her face. But, no, it was a different kind of smile. It looked…unnatural.
Instead of pushing her daughter’s hands off her boobs, she brought her own hands up and helped her daughter squeeze them. Surely this was some kind of weird game that their family played. But when her mom spoke next, I knew I was wrong. Something had happened. Something that was making me rock hard.
With a happy sigh, Mrs. Duncan said, “I’d like that sweetie. I’d love nothing more than a chance to fuck that young man. He seemed like a real stud in bed.”
I’m not dumb. I could have been on the honor roll if I wanted, I just didn’t care about applying myself. But as smart as I am, I did not understand what was happening. I watched as both women turned to face the closet. Her mom held up a finger, and beckoned me to come out. How did she know I was here, unless…
“Come here, master,” Mrs. Duncan said. “Let me see if you’re interested in having full access to this body as well.”
She’d…she’d called me ‘master.’ I pushed the folding door open and stepped out. Both women looked down at my crotch.
Cynthia licked her lips and said, “It appears he likes you, ‘mom.’”
It was my turn to freeze as her mom approached me with eyes that made their intent very clear. She wanted me!
The middle aged woman suddenly moved so fast, getting right up in front of me. She grabbed my wrist and brought my hand up to her chest. She mashed my palm against it, and I felt my hand sink into the pillow softness of her boob. Simultaneously, Mrs. Duncan let out the sexiest, neediest moan I’ve ever heard.
Cynthia came up next to her while she cupped her own chest. “Mom’s boobs are so much bigger than mine. I bet your cock would fit perfectly between them, master.”
Her mom was suddenly pressing herself against me, her hot breath in my ear. “Would you like that, master? You want to fuck my big juicy tits?”
I stammered out a “Y-yes, ma’am.”
She laughed softly in my ear, then gave my earlobe a nip before she pulled away. “‘Ma’am.’ You’re funny, master. You can call me Joan, or Mrs. Duncan for now so we don’t give anything away. Later, when we don’t have to worry about interruptions, you can call me whatever you want.”
“Why…later?” I asked.
As if in answer, a male voice rang out through the house. “Joan, you’re coming back, right?”
Mrs. Duncan called back, “Be right there, dear!” She looked at me with a sly grin. “I’m afraid I’ll have to come back after I’ve put that human to bed. I’m afraid the original Joan promised him sex tonight.” She grabbed my crotch and gave my dick a squeeze. “Don’t worry though master, it won’t take long, not with how hard I’m about to fuck him. It’ll be the hottest sex he’s ever had.”
Cynthia gave her mom a firm smack on the butt. “Go get him, Momma. Call him Daddy when he’s inside you. Human males really like that.”
“Thanks for the tip,” she said as she put a hand on Cynthia’s cheek. Both women seemed to be side eyeing me. “You’re such a good, slutty daughter. How about a kiss?”
And then their lips met, and their mouths opened. I’d never seen a kiss with so much tongue. They started to grope each other’s chest. Mrs. Duncan even started to slip a hand down her daughter’s crotch when Cynthia stopped her.
“No, go and tend to the man downstairs. When you come back you can have as much of this body as you want, ‘mother.’”
Mrs. Duncan nodded, and then strode obediently from the room. Whatever was happening, Cynthia was clearly in charge.
I shut the bedroom door, because I had questions. But before I could ask any though, I heard a voice from the mirror.
“Where am I? What’s happening?” Mrs. Duncan cried.
“I’m here too, mom!” the real Cynthia shouted, her eyes darting wildly around.
I looked into the mirror and saw both women clearly, but for some reason, they couldn’t see each other.
As both trapped women began to talk to each other, the Cynthia on my side of the mirror draped a blanket over it, instantly silencing the conversation.
“As much as I might enjoy hearing them break, I think we’ll wait until ‘mother dearest’ is back,” she explained.
I asked my Cynthia, “So…what happened to Mrs. Duncan? Are you inside her now too?”
For an instant, my Cynthia looked at me like I was an idiot. But then she smiled and shook her head. “No, master. That’s one of my brethren. Another of my kind. He has taken on the role of the older woman now.”
“But…why?” I asked.
Cynthia pushed me onto the couch and knelt at my feet. She took my cock in her hand and stroked it lazily. “Do you not want that woman?”
“I do, but-”
“Isn’t it more convenient to have one of my kind take her place? Having a mirror version of ‘mom’ will make it so you can come over and fuck me whenever you’d like.”
“Well, whenever my mom will let me,” I corrected.
“I’m sure we’ll have plenty of opportunities,” she said with that unnerving smile she sometimes gave. “Now, how shall we spend this time we have until my ‘mom’ comes back?”
“Um…I suppose you could-”
But she took the words out of my mouth as she blew on the tip of my penis. And then she began to edge me with her mouth. I’ve never had blowjobs before this experience, but I’m pretty sure the creature from the mirrorverse gives the best ones in the history of ever. She brought me right up to the edge of climax again and again, but then stopped and let me get soft. The only time I almost blew my load was when I heard Mrs. Duncan moaning down the hall as her husband plowed her. I couldn’t hear everything she was saying, but it sounded like she was urging her husband to fuck her harder. To not care that their daughter was in the house.
I wondered if Mrs. Duncan, this mirror version of her, would talk that way to me? I know I for sure wanted to make her moan like that with MY dick. Maybe not tonight though. But sometime soon when Mr. Duncan wasn’t home.
“Ow!” I suddenly yelped as Cynthia gave my balls a sharp squeeze.
“You were about to cum, master,” she smiled. She licked her lips. Her tongue seemed so long, and…had it been forked? “I could smell it. But we wanna save it inside your balls, don’t we master. That way you can paint my momma’s pretty face with it soon. Will you do that for me, master? Will you shoot your jizz all over my sweet mother’s face? It’d be so hot.”
I saw that she was rubbing her pussy as she said all this. It was so fucking sexy. But still, my balls were my balls, and I didn’t like em squeezed. “Uh, sure, just, don’t be so rough with my balls.”
She smiled, and I’m not sure I believed her when she said, “Of course, master.”
It was about 10pm when Mrs. Duncan snuck back into the room. Her daughter’s mouth was still slobbering all over my junk and I had my eyes closed, so I didn’t know she was there until I heard the soft click of the latch on the door. I looked up and let out a low moan as I saw that she was completely naked.
My Cynthia quickly got to her feet and rushed to her mirror mother. I watched the horrified faces of the real Cynthia and Mrs. Duncan as their clones embraced one another and began kissing passionately. I took my cock into my own hands and stroked as I enjoyed the reuniting of this fake mother and daughter.
I could tell the real versions wanted to protest, but invisible hands had muted them.
My Cynthia’s hand went down to her mother’s slit and fingered her. She pulled up a glob of her father’s spunk. She put it into her mouth and sucked her finger clean, then said, “I think master would like you to have fresh pussy, mother. Allow me to help you with that.”
She looked at the mirror and said, “Let them move with us.”
At once the real versions of Cynthia and Mrs. Duncan were forced into the positions that their clones were in. For a split second I saw joy on their faces, because the real versions could suddenly see each other. But as the mirror clone of Cynthia sank to her knees, making the real Cynthia do the same, those looks shifted to fear and revulsion. And then my Cynthia put her mouth to her fake mother, and began licking out the cum Mr. Duncan had just deposited there.
I kept looking between what was happening in front of me, as well as what the real versions were being made to do. The mirror clone of Mrs. Duncan was groping her big tits now, forcing the real version to do the same. Mirror Cynthia brought her hands up to squeeze her fake mother’s ass, spreading her cheeks apart and running a finger up and down the crack.
I could have watched this for hours, but when my Cynthia had finished, she looked up and said, “All clean, Mommy. Daddy’s cum was super duper yummy.”
They both looked at me as Mrs. Duncan said, “Do you like your father’s cum better than our masters?”
“Oh no,” Cynthia said indignantly. “Master’s is truly the best. Why don’t you go see for yourself.”
And then Mrs. Duncan was on her knees and had my cock between her big boobs. She began sliding it up and down her cleavage while her daughter kissed her, then me, then her again. And I was not going to be able to take very much of this, especially when Mrs. Duncan began talking dirty.
“I want you to cum on these big tits, Stanley. I wanna feel your hot sticky jizz all over my skin. Mark me master! Mark my hot milf body!”
My cock twitched, and then erupted. My jizz landed on her face and chest. As it did, she shuddered and moaned like I’d just made HER cum. She let go of her tits and began scooping it up with her fingers and swallowed it as quick as she could.
“You were right, sweetie. It’s so yummy.”
“I told you,” Cynthia said, right before she put her mouth to her mom’s boobs and began helping herself to the cum I’d shot there.
After all the cum was off Mrs. Duncan, they both helped give my junk one last tongue bath, then helped me put my clothes back on. Needless to say, I was spent.
“Go home and rest,” Cynthia ordered. “Maybe eat something. You’ll need your stamina.”
“There’s so much more fucking we need to do,” Mrs. Duncan added.
I trudged home, which I was very glad was so close. I walked into the darkness of my living room, and heard a lamp click on. There was my mother. And she looked very pissed off.
“We pay your cell phone bill, Stanley. So when I call, I expect you to answer. I talked with your father, and I finally got him to agree that we’ve been to soft with you. Starting tomorrow, you’ve got a job working with your uncle as a roofer.”
All the joy I’d felt from today evaporated in an instant and was replaced with anger. “What? No! You can’t do that!”
“As long as you’re under our roof, you’ll live by our rules,” my mother said for like the millionth time. “Now go to bed. You’ll need to be up bright and early.”
I was about to storm off to my bedroom, when my Mom added, “Oh yes, give me your phone.”
“What? Why?!”
“Because if you can’t answer it, you don’t need it.”
She held out her hand and gave me that look that means if I don’t comply, she’s gonna find a way to make it even worse. I very begrudgingly took out my phone, and handed it to her. Then I stormed off. I briefly thought about checking in with Dad, who I assumed was already in bed, but apparently he’s with mom on this one.
Despite the anger I felt towards my new circumstance, I was able to fall asleep rather quickly. I guess that’s another perk of getting laid so many times.
Way, way too early, my mom woke me up. She made me eat breakfast, which is a meal I usually skip, and then my uncle picked me up for what would be a very long day.
I was made to do manual fucking labor. I had to carry stuff up a ladder, and move it here, and then move it there, and I felt like I got yelled at constantly and the whole thing just fucking sucked. And I had to do it for 8 hours. 8 HOURS!!! When my uncle finally told me we were done for the day, I wanted to spit in his face and tell him I never wanted to see him again. But I knew if I did, I’d probably be homeless that night. So I kept my internal rage to myself.
When my uncle pulled onto my street, I looked towards Cynthia’s house. I don’t care what Mom says, she can’t ban me from going over there.
I saw the front door open, and I sucked in a breath as my mom walked out the front door. Shit shit shit! What was that about?! And then a horrible thought crossed my mind. Mom had my phone. She’d had it all day. What if Cynthia sent me a text? Like one telling me to come over so I could fuck her brains out!
I watched my mom cross our yard. From this distance I couldn’t tell if she was mad. I’d planned on being extra pissy the second I got home, but now I just wanted to avoid her. I thought about going straight to Cynthia’s, but I saw her dad’s car was there. And I was aware of how very smelly I was after a grueling day of slave labor. There was also that avoiding my mom might make things worse. I resolved to check in and see what was what. Hopefully I’m just being paranoid. Maybe she’ll see how sweaty and tired I am and give me my phone back. Yeah, and maybe a million dollars will fall from the sky.
My paranoia seemed justified as I walked into my house. I could hear my mother washing dishes. Angrily. By that I mean water was loudly splashing in the sink and dishes were being loudly stacked one on top of each other on the counter. Despite the noise she was making, she still heard the door shut behind me. “Stanley Cornelius Cooper, get in here!”
Uh oh. My full name. Not a good start. I was on the defensive now, which meant I would remain quiet so as not to give Mom any extra ammunition to use against me. Innocent until proven guilty and all that. Except the way she was washing those dishes in the sink made it seem like she’d already decided on her verdict. The water sloshed about wildly in the sink as she moved her arms back and forth with a fervor in the sudsy water. Several times she created a wave that would splash up against the sides and soak the front of her shirt. She usually wore an apron when she did the dishes, but not today. Today she was wearing just a plain white shirt. I thought she had been wearing something purple when we ate breakfast? She must have changed after she worked out or something.
Suddenly she spoke, and the interrogation was underway. “Care to explain yourself?”
She didn’t turn to look at me. Just kept directly in front of the sink so she could wash, splash, and stack.
“What?!” I said, sharper than I meant to. Couldn’t help it. I was also pissed. “I worked with my uncle like you said I had to. I carried stuff up ladders. Got blisters. I was all fucking bullshit.”
“Language!” she snapped in a voice that normally would have made me back down. But I was just too angry.
“So sorry I said a bad word! I meant to say it was freaking terrible, and I hated it, and now I’m going to go upstairs to shower, and then go see my girlfriend!”
“I don’t think so, mister,” my mom said coldly. “I don’t think you’ll be going over there anytime soon. Not after the text message she sent to your phone a half hour ago.”
Suddenly I had a knot in my stomach.
“You want to know what that little hussy said? She asked where you were and how come you haven’t come over yet so she could drain your balls? Seriously, Stanley! This is not the kind of girl your father and I want you with!”
The knot tightened, and a hopelessness spread out to my limbs, making them tremble with dread. My mom would never accept a girl that talked like that. I hoped there wasn’t more, but mom was still talking.
“So I went over to confront your little girlfriend,” Mom continued. “Her mother answered the door. I showed her the text. To her credit, at least her mom had the decency to be embarrassed and apologetic. She told me things had been hard at home and that Cynthia was going through a phase. She invited me in, and took me upstairs so I could see a mirror in her daughter’s room.”
Surely I hadn’t heard that right. “Wh-what?” I croaked. “What did you just say?”
And that’s when Mom stopped washing dishes, and turned towards me. She put her hands on her hips, and pushed out her chest. The front of her white shirt was completely soaked. Like, it couldn’t get any wetter. And it was completely see through. And Mom…wasn’t wearing a bra. I could see her boobs, and her pink pointy nipples protruding from them.
“I said I looked into the mirror, Stanley,” she said, with an eerie smile that I’d seen on two other women last night.
No. This can’t be happening.
Mom gave a fake gasp and said mock indignation, “Gee, Stanley, is there something on my chest? You can’t seem to stop staring at it? Oh no, it’s my shirt, isn’t it! It’s so wet! I better just take it off.”
And then she lifted her shirt, and suddenly my mom was topless in front of me in my kitchen. Except…it wasn’t my mom. It was a thing that looked like her. Sounded like her. But it was not her.
“I can see why you like to stare though, sweetie. Mommy’s got a nice rack.” She pushed her boobs together and held them out to me. “Do you like them better than the milf’s next door? Please say you do, or you’ll make mommy so sad.”
No. No no no no no no no! When the shock finally wore off, I found my voice. “I didn’t give you permission to…to take her!” I yelled. “That’s my mom! Go back to the mirror and switch places with her right now!”
My mom’s face went from playful and seductive, to the most sinister thing I’ve ever seen. For a second, her face didn’t resemble anything human, but was like something from another world. An evil world.
When she spoke, I could still hear a bit of my mom’s voice, but tinged with something old and malevolent. “Say that again boy, and I’ll tear you limb from limb.”
I was so scared in that moment, that I pissed myself.
My mom, or the thing that looked like my mom, noticed the dark spot that spread out over my crotch. She suddenly looked like herself again and said, “Oh, did my baby have an accident? Let’s get you all cleaned up.”
I couldn’t move as she walked over to me. She scooped me up like I weighed nothing. She took me upstairs to the bathroom and stripped me bare. She got the water nice and hot in the bathtub, and then put me in and began to wash me like she used to when I was little. While she did she hummed a familiar tune, and looked at me with that expression of maternal love I’d always known from her.
The illusion was so perfect that I could almost really believe it was her. But I kept remembering that it wasn’t. The truth was that my mom was next door. Trapped in an evil mirror. And it was all my fault.
“Baby, don’t be sad?” she said as she saw my lower lip tremble. “I know what will make you feel better.”
And then she pushed my face into her bare chest, and said, “Go on. Suck on mom’s nipples like you did when you were little. That’ll calm you right down, baby.”
I was scared and broken now, and I automatically opened my mouth, and received what she slipped inside. It tasted like…home, and I began to suck greedily.
“Mm, that’s a good boy,” my mom said. “Oh my, it looks like someone’s popped up to say hello.”
I knew then that I’d gotten hard. I felt her hand, a hand that had patted me on the head lovingly so many times, reach down, and begin to stroke my cock that was sticking out of the water.
“You’e not my little boy anymore, are you baby. You’re my big man. Let momma show you how she takes care of her big man.”
She stroked me, and whispered lovingly in my ear, all while I sucked on her tits. Until I came.
“Oh there’s so much baby. I’m so proud of you. Such a good boy. Next time I hope your cum goes in mommy’s pussy. I bet you’d like that even more. Right?”
“Yes, mom,” I said blankly.
She made me stand up so she could towel me dry. Afterwards she said, “Now go downstairs, because we’re having company soon.”
I almost asked who, but I knew the answer. “Okay. I’ll…I’ll get some clothes on and-”
“No need, baby. Come down just you are. Such a handsome young man.”
All I could do was nod and say, “Okay.”
My mirror mom and I sat naked across from each other at our dining room table, waiting for our guests. After twenty minutes, and without so much as a knock, Cynthia and Mrs. Duncan entered the house. They were just as naked as we were.
My mom’s face tightened. She kept a smile on her face, but I could tell it was just a mask as she said, “He told me that I should go back into the mirror.”
Cynthia scowled at me for a second, but quickly softened her features. “That’s out of the question, ‘master.’”
The word ‘master' dripped from her lips with unveiled sarcasm, and I understood now that it was an empty title. I’d been used. This had all been a ruse so that the creatures on the other side of the mirror could escape to our plane of existence.
Cynthia came over to sit on my lap. She began stroking my hair as she said patiently, “When you summoned me with that arcane ritual, I gave you the instructions to make a portal for me to come through. I said if you did, I’d be able to become a perfect copy of anyone you wanted, and then I’d live to serve you. But I was very clear that once I replaced the original, we would never go back. Ever.”
I looked into the eyes of the girl I’d obsessed over for as long as I could remember. But the eyes that looked back at me had become soulless and black.
“I’ll serve you for as long as you live master. But that won’t be very long if you ever ask me or any of my kind to return to that place. Understand?”
I nodded slowly.
Cynthia smiled, and then the whites of her eyes and pupils returned. “Great! Now let’s celebrate! Who do you want first, master?”
My mom, Mrs. Duncan, and Cynthia all presented themselves to me by holding out their boobs.
As tempting as the sight was, I had a dreadful question I needed to ask. “Are there…more of you? Your kind, I mean? Are they coming through too?”
All three women nodded. I tried to choke down the panic I felt, but I couldn’t stop myself from hyperventilating.
My mom said, “Don’t worry ladies. I know how to handle this.”
She touched Cynthia’s arm, and the girl got off my lap. My mother took her place, straddling me. She began stroking my hair. “Yes, sweetie. More will come.”
“H-h-how many?” I asked.
She rocked on my lap, and I felt her slick pussy glide along the length of my dick as she gave me the bad news. “Thousands, sweetie. Thousands. They’ll become the people you know, and many people you don’t. This whole town will belong to us, and everyone in it will be willing to serve you.”
Just then my dad walked in the front door. We all looked at him, and in a panic I blurted, “Shit! Dad, this isn’t…I can explain!”
He grinned at me and said, “No need. I’ve already visited the mirror, ‘son.’” He began to take off all his clothes. “I was hoping though you’d let me have a turn with one of these ladies’ holes. Perhaps I could use your mother’s mouth while you fuck her from behind?”
“That sounds wonderful, darling,” my mom said as she climbed off my lap. My boner already missed her. I watched as she got on all fours and took my father into her mouth.
“Go ahead and fuck Mommy,” Cynthia urged with a smile. And then she began to eat out her own mother on the kitchen counter.
I obediently got down on my knees, and thrust into my mother from behind.
I heard her choke on dad’s cock for a second, then she looked back at me and said, “Mm, so big for mommy. Fuck me sweetie.”
I did. And as moans began to fill the room, Mrs. Cooper told me, “Cynthia invited her former cheerleading squad to a party at our house tomorrow, master. We’re going to have them all look in the mirror. And then we can have your former teachers. Anyone and everyone you’ve ever wanted to fuck or enslave, they’ll all be yours.
It’s everything I ever wanted. And all it cost me was everyone I ever held dear.
The end.
Part 1: Cynthia
“Cynthia! You have a present!”
As my mom’s voice rang through the house, I was initially excited. I mean, a present is a good thing. Images of jewelry, chocolate, or something cute and fluffy had me bounding from my room, down the stairs, and walking into our entryway where my mom held a thin rectangular wrapped package. That’s when she added the catch. “It’s from that nice neighbor boy, Stanley.”
Images of anything sweet or cute vanished from my mind as I thought of what Stanley might have given me. The guy was a total creep, and unfortunately for me, he lived next door. I’ve known him all my life. We’re the same age. I had to go to school with him. I watched him go from a weird short kid, to a tall skinny even weirder kid. A huge benefit of going to college in a month is that I won’t have to see him lurking at the window across from mine anymore. He’s the reason I keep my curtains permanently closed. I caught him peeping on me while changing once. I totally remember how his gaunt face was turned down, his eyes boring into me, making me feel so exposed. Yeah, I never gave him that opportunity ever again.
“Aren’t you going to open it?” my mom asked curiously.
I looked at the flat rectangular package my mom is holding. It’s wrapped in plain brown paper and is as tall as she is, not that that’s very tall. Then again, neither am I. Mom and I are the same height, same dark hair, same basic build, except with one major difference. She’s got a lot more in the chest department. That’s what having kids will do to you I suppose.
“Ugh,” I sighed as I approached the package like it was a bomb about to go off.
My mom chided my obvious apprehension. “Sweetie, don’t be like that. That boy went to the trouble of wrapping this and bringing it over to you. You should be grateful. And if it is what I think it is, you’ll need to go tell him thank you before the day is over.”
“Yeah, I don’t think so,” I muttered as I reached up to tear off a corner of the package. I was met with a smooth. Mom was right. “It’s a mirror alright.”
“He must have known you wanted one for your room! What a thoughtful young man.”
What a stalker, I thought. I talked on social media recently that I was looking for a full length mirror for my room. I’m not sure how Stanley knew though since I always block his attempts to follow or friend me. Apparently he snuck in using a made up profile. Wonderful.
I gripped the edges and told my mom, “I’ll go set it up in my room. Why don’t you go be the one to tell creepy neighbor boy thank you.”
My mom crossed her arms. “He’s been a perfect gentleman to you this past year,” she argued. “There’s no need to call him that.”
As I walked away I countered over my shoulder with, “I’m thinking of all the other times when he was trying to look down my shirt or up my dress or brush against me in the hallways or…” I trailed off, knowing mom would take his side. I’d told her about Stanley spying on me. We’d gone to confront him together, or so I thought. He'd apologized immediately when we showed up at his door. He looked so weak and pathetic that mom made ME apologize to him for changing in front of my window. I love my mom, but that memory still really pissed me off.
I marched into my room and tore the rest of the paper from the mirror, then set it up against the wall opposite my bed. It was actually a very nice mirror. I hoped it cost him a lot of money. Knowing him he probably got it for cheap from a thrift store or something and then installed cameras in it.
I instantly let my eyes dart around the edges looking for a little notch where a hidden camera might go. Thankfully I saw nothing but dark trim.
Convinced I wasn't being spied on, I took a moment to study my cute self in the mirror. I’m still rocking my dark hair in long braided pigtails. They’d been mom’s idea. She wanted to see me in them one last time before I leave next month. I think she’s gonna have a hard time cutting the cord when I go.
I gave my outfit an assessment. It’s my favorite green romper that hugs my slender frame and shows off my smooth pale legs. I’m not wearing a bra cause it’s a Saturday morning and I got nowhere to be. I smiled back at my round face, and I can’t help but think that I am a real cutie. I don’t consider myself a narcissist, but I’m proud of my body and the attention it gets. I’m currently single, but not for lack of boys trying.
That’s the problem though. They’re boys. I want a man, and I’m happy to wait till I’m in college in the fall. I’ll meet a tall handsome guy with sexy abs and rippling biceps and I’ll bring him home during break and maybe have him kick the shit out of the creepy neighbor boy.
A chill runs over me, interrupting my daydream. Something just seemed out of place in the mirror. My reflection was smiling. That should mean that I’m smiling too, but…I don’t think I’ve ever smiled in such a creepy way. It’s the kind of smile I’ve seen in horror movies, where the killer reveals a big terrible secret.
And then I watch dumbfounded as my reflection began to move. My hands reached up to my shoulders and pulled down the straps of my jumper. What?! No. No! I’m not doing this! I think. But then I felt the cool air of my room as it hit my bare skin. I don’t know how, but I am being made to mirror my own reflection! I watched in alarm as my mirror self brought my arms through the straps, which let the top half of my jumper fall down to my waist. There were my perky B cups. My nipples were stiff and pointy, exactly how they get when I’m turned on. But I’m not turned on right now. I’m confused and scared.
I felt like a marionette on a string as my reflection’s hands pushed my romper all the way down my legs, which made me do the same. I’m forced to straighten, and then I feel incredibly exposed as the eyes in the mirror move slowly over my body. I wasn’t completely naked. I still had on my pastel pink panties. They were my favorite pair, even though they rode up a little more than I’d like. I felt my lips curl up into a copy of the mischievous smile that stared back at me as I was made to grip the hem of those panties. I wasn’t forced to pull them down, but lifted them up. I felt the fabric slip deep between my buttcrack as I essentially gave myself a wedgie. Then my fingers reached back, and I began to grope my own ass.
I thought it might be over when my hand pulled away, but then it came back in a rush as I was forced to give my butt cheek a sharp smack. I wanted to scream in protest. I wanted to cry for help. To plead for my mom to come into my room and cut the invisible strings that were making me act out everything my reflection was doing. But I couldn’t make a sound. I could only smile. A smile that had become creepier and creepier until it resembled something malevolent. And then my legs began to move, slowly turning me away from the mirror.
I thought whatever was puppeteering me would stop when I couldn’t see my reflection anymore. I believed that once I couldn’t see my reflection’s horrific smile, my body would be under my own power again. I suppose in a way, I was both right, and wrong. As my eyes left the mirror’s edge, I saw nothing but an empty void beyond me. I suddenly found I had control again. I didn’t want to look back at that damned mirror, but there was nothing else to see. So I reluctantly looked, and there was my room. My bed. My reflection. Except, my reflection was facing away from me now. It was bending over and picking up my romper and getting dressed again.
But I wasn’t being made to do that. I was standing and staring at myself getting dressed WITHOUT doing it. And then I heard a voice. My own voice, but different somehow. It was like a recording of a recording, and tinged with malice that filled me with dread. It wasn’t coming from my side of the mirror. It was coming from the other side. The side that had a right and a left instead of an empty void. THAT side was the real word, and I had somehow gotten trapped on the mirror side.
“You have a lovely body, Cynthia,” my mirror self said as it turned back to face me. “Stanley said you would. I will enjoy using it to honor our deal I made with him. He’s been looking forward to getting his hands on your juicy ass and perky tits for quite some time.”
“No!” I shrieked from the mirror. I wanted to reach back into my world, to swap with whatever this thing that looked like me was, but my hands hit an invisible barrier. I watched helplessly as my mirror self went to the door, winked in my direction, and then disappeared. I learned then where reflections go when a person walks away from the mirror. Nowhere.
Part 2: Mirror Cynthia
The silent cries that only I could hear were instantly muffled the second I stepped out of the room. My absence would effectively put the girl on a pause of sorts, held in a temporal place between worlds while I took her body away from the object that had given me access to the human world once more.
It was good to be on this side of the mirror again, and in a body that was able to enjoy all the sensations that came with it. I walked purposefully down the stairs and stepped into a living room. The padded carpet felt divine under my bare feet.
A woman approached me with a tentative smile. My cloned memories told me she was the real Cynthia’s mother. “So, what did you think of the mirror sweetie?” she asked.
I placed a warm smile on my face to put her at ease. It’s not in my kind’s nature to tell the truth very often, but this time it dripped from my tongue. “It’s perfect, Mom. I’m going to go thank Stanley for it right now.”
The woman clasped her hands together and beamed at me in approval. “That’s really great, sweetie. It’s the right thing to do. Maybe this is the thing that will help you two end on a positive note before you head off to college.”
“I’m sure it will,” I said with a dark twinkle in my eye. “Goodbye, mother.” And then I was out the door, on my way to where my master was waiting.
I rang the doorbell of the house next door, and an auburn hair woman in her mid forties answered the door. She was a little chubby, but had a pretty face, and a very ample bosom. She seemed surprised by my appearance. I knew why. It’s because the real Cynthia had accused her son of spying on her.
“Hello, Mrs. Cooper,” I said with a sickly sweet tone. “Is Stanley in?”
She eyed me suspiciously. “He is, Cynthia. What’s this about?”
“He gave me a wonderful gift, and I was hoping I could thank him, and also…maybe mend some fences, if that’s alright?”
Her face softened, and then she began nodding cheerfully,like she was eager for her loner son to have a playdate. She walked from the entryway into the living room. I followed close behind. I surveyed the living room and saw Stanley’s father. He was a tall handsome man with more salt than pepper in his hair. He glanced up from his phone, and his eyes temporarily froze on my chest. My tits were poking out underneath the tight green romper. He’d noticed. He was thinking about them. About pinching them with a thumb and finger. About getting his mouth on them. I grinned at him, but he did not see. He only saw my perky tits.
“Stanley! You have a guest!”
This jolted Mr. Cooper out of his twisted fantasy. For a split second his eyes met mine, and I blew him a kiss. His face went very red, and his eyes snapped back to his phone. He did have to take a moment to adjust the tent in his pants though.
I turned at the sound of footsteps on the stairs. As soon as Stanley saw me, he acted as surprised as his mother had. He shouldn’t have been. I had told him exactly what would happen. He just hadn’t believed me. Probably because most humans struggle with believing anything that falls outside their traditional norms. Most refuse to believe my kind even exists these days. We are the stuff of superstition and fiction that are only spoken of in books and movies.
I can smell the human male from here. He probably hasn’t showered in a few days, and has just been marinating in that wrinkled black t-shirt he’s currently wearing. From the waist down he’s got on a dingy pair of light gray sweatpants. His unkempt hair, big round glasses, and the way he’s gawking at me would be enough to make most girls his age want to walk away. But I am not a girl. I only look like one. And it just so happens to be the one he wanted enough to sell his soul for.
“No way,” Stanley finally muttered as he began to walk around me. “Did it work?”
Mrs. Cooper frowned at her son. “Did what work? And stop staring at her like she’s a piece of meat, Stan. My word.” To me the woman said, “I do apologize, dear. I swear he lost all his manners when the hormones hit.”
I angled my body slightly so it accentuated my curves, then said while looking him right in the eye. “That’s okay. I don’t mind if he stares. I want him too actually.”
I wanted to laugh as Mrs. Cooper didn’t know what to make of that statement. She was looking between us, not understanding what was happening. Finally she decided she didn’t like it.
“Why don’t you both sit down in the living room, and I can bring you all out some snacks,” she offered, clearly trying to take control of the situation.
“I just need a moment in private with your son,” I said, and then bit my lower lip as my eyes dropped to Stan’s crotch. Sure enough, he had a bulge.
“Let’s go to my room,” Stanley said quickly.
Mrs. Cooper hesitated, clearly feeling the sudden sexual tension in the air. She countered with, “Okay, but, um, leave the door open at all times.”
“Mom!” Stan blustered. “I’m not a kid!”
Mrs. Cooper’s lips tightened across her face as her hands went to her hips. “That very well may be, young man. But you are still under our roof.” Her hands gestured towards his father. “And we make the rules. So that’s why any time you have a lady over, you keep the door to your room open when she’s inside.”
Still looking at his phone, Mr. Cooper said, “Stan’s never had a lady over before though so when did we make up that-”
“Shut up, Charles,” Mrs. Cooper said sharply, causing Mr. Cooper’s head to dip even lower into his phone. It was obvious who wore the pants in this family.
She regarded me and her son again, then gave a firm, “I’m afraid that’s how it is, kids. Take it or leave it.”
Stanley glared at his mom before saying an angsty, “Fine!”
He turned to walk away, but I darted ahead of him to the stairs and began to walk up them. I was several steps up when I looked back. He hadn’t moved. He was just staring up at my ass, which had been my goal. I gave him a wink, then continued on. I heard him rush up the stairs after me. He slowed when he got right behind me. I could feel his hot breath on my neck. He wanted so badly to touch me. He would soon get his chance.
I strode into his bedroom. Despite me assuring that I would soon be bringing a copy of the woman he’s been obsessing over, he had not bothered to tidy up. Smelly clothes littered the floor, along with a copious amount of wadded up tissues.
I pointed at the tissues and said, “Is there cum in those, Stanley?” I ran my hands down my sides like the thought was turning me on. “Did you jack off while thinking about this body?”
“It really worked?” he rasped. “You’re in her body?”
“No,” I corrected as I spun him so that his back was to his bed. “Her body is back in the mirror. This body is born of her reflection. It is now the vessel I will use to pay you back for freeing me. Now get your cock out.” With that, I pushed him onto his bed. While he awkwardly pulled his member free, I quickly shed my clothes, pulling the romper down.
Stanley obeyed, even as he looked at his open door and said, “What about my mom?”
As his hard cock came into view I gave him a sly grin. “Oh, I don’t think this will take too long, Stanley.” I crawled on top of him. He looked both excited and scared now. “Based on our previous conversations, I know how much you’ve built up this moment in your mind. I can assure you though, it’s not even close to how good I’m going to make you feel.”
“Oh,” he said in a faint whimper.
I positioned myself over his crotch. I lifted up his rigid cock, and sank my tight little pussy all the way down his shaft. He gasped as I knew he would. I began to bounce straightaway, not giving him time to process or to plead with me to slow down. All he could do was hold on as I gave him exactly what he wanted.
“Look at me, Stan,” I said, the wicked smile returning to my face as I began to rock back and forth on him. “I’m yours. This body belongs to you, and I’ll let you fuck me whenever you want. Because you freed me, master. You freed me.”
“Y-yeah,” he groaned. “I did. Y-you’re mine.”
I brought his hands up to my tits.” Go on, touch them. Touch me anywhere you want.”
Clammy hands began to grope me and squeeze me roughly. I didn’t mind at all. My kind thrive on pain.
The bedsprings were squeaking now, and the end of his bed began to smack loudly against his wall. After a few seconds he seemed to register the sound. “We have to be quiet,” he begged helplessly.
“Not till you cum, master,” I said, my smile stretching ever wider.
We both heard it then. A foot being placed loudly at the bottom of the stairs. Then another right after it.
“Stanley?” Mrs. Cooper called out.
“Shit! My mom!” he hissed, panic rising in his voice. He tried to move, to throw me off, but I held him fast with inhuman strength.
I tripled my pace. He looked so pathetic and desperate. It wouldn’t be long now.
More footsteps. Their pace quickened, hastened by the sound of someone fucking in this room. That’s right, someone’s fucking your precious little awkward pervert of a son, Mrs. Cooper. He’s about to give me a big load. If you hurry, you might get to see it.
“Stop,” he croaked. “She’s gonna…AW!”
Delicious heat flowed into me. After what seemed like a thousand years of cold and empty void, this heat shot up into the depths of me was a gift beyond measure. I put my hands around Stanley’s neck and I squeezed as my pussy did the same around his cock.
“What is going on in here!” Mrs. Cooper demanded two seconds later. She looked into the room and saw…me, fully clothed, sitting next to Stanley, who was also fully clothed. The woman did a double take. She seemed certain she was about to catch us doing something. Probably the thing we’d been doing 2.5 seconds ago. Thankfully for Stanley, my kind can move VERY fast when we need to.
I pointed to the yearbook that was open between my and Stanley’s lap. “We were just looking over the years together,” I said with an innocent smile and an innocent tilt of my head.
Stanley’s head was lolling, and it was clear he was trying to get his bearings. That made sense since he’d just cum, been lifted up in the air and slammed into his clothes and dropped back onto his bed in the span of 1.5 seconds. Under the yearbook, I gave his limp dick a playful squeeze. “You finally got good looking this past year,” I giggled.
He twitched, then looked at me, then at his mom. Finally he gave a squeaky, “Yup!”
His mom looked at the two of us like we were thieves caught red handed but had successfully destroyed the evidence. She pointed to just down the hall. “I’ll be right next door in my room if you need anything.”
She’d delivered that not as a fact, but as a threat.
“Sounds great, Mrs. Cooper,” I said, still as innocent as a dove while giving her son’s cock another squeeze.
“Actually, um, uh,” Stanley said as he tried to get control of the situation, “we’re about to head back downstairs.”
Mrs. Cooper seemed to take this as a victory. “Oh, good.” She suddenly became aware of the state of Stanley’s room. “Stanley, for the love of…please throw away your jerk off tissues.”
She’d said it to embarrass him. A little dig that was meant to shame and send me running for the hills. But I pressed down on his cock, which was already getting hard again and said, “I think it’s kind of hot.”
Mrs. Cooper leveled her gaze at me. “What did you just say, young lady?”
I returned her seething tone with a timid petulance. “I said I think they’re full of snot.”
My words rattled around in her brain as she tried to figure out what to believe. Finally she said, “Well, just clean them up, Stan.” With that she went off to her room.
I threw the yearbook onto his pillow and said, “What would you have me do now, master?”
Stanley’s smile split ear to ear. “I can’t believe this worked. Cynthia’s really, uh, I mean, you’re really mine now.”
“That was the deal, master. Provide me with a portal into your world along with a vessel you desired and were willing to sacrifice, and I would serve you using her likeness.” I wrapped my arms around his thin shoulders and brought my mouth to his ear. I just breathed for a few seconds. It felt good to breathe, and I let the hot sticky breath flow around his sensitive ear. “When will you want me again, master?” I asked. “Please tell me it’ll be soon.”
He looked nervously in the direction of his mother’s room. “Uh…well like I said when I made the deal with you, you’ll have to keep up appearances. No one can know that you’re not really Cynthia.”
“Of course not,” I lied, as I licked up the side of his face with my tongue.
He shuddered at the wet sensation against his cheek. I know if his mom weren’t in the room next to us, I could get him to fuck me again in no time.
“So…um, I guess right now, go back to your house and pretend to be the real Cynthia until I call you.”
Go back to the house. To where the mirror now resided. This was all going according to plan. “Of course, master.”
“And uh…” he said, sounding anxious.
I put a hand on his other cheek and spoke sweetly to him. “It’s okay, master. What else would you have me do?”
He blurted out quietly, “Always keep the curtains to your window open from now on.”
I grinned. “Master is such a pervert for this body. It makes my pussy so wet.” I leaned in and gave him a long, lingering kiss. “I can’t wait to feel your eyes on me as I undress, master. Please, don’t keep me waiting long.”
We walked back down the stairs. I was still warmed by Stan’s cum deposited inside of me. His father glanced up as I walked through the living room. His eyes went to my tits again, and then to my face. He saw I was watching him, and I blew him another kiss. This time he didn’t look away. He would no doubt think of me the next time he fucked his wife.
At the threshold of his house, away from his parents’ prying eyes, I let Stanley cup my ass and squeeze it as I told him, “My ‘parents’ are leaving early tomorrow morning for an outing the mother planned a few weeks back. I’ll be in the house all by myself.”
I watched Stan swallow at the open invite. “I gotta do some stuff for my dad in the morning, but I’ll come over as soon as I can.”
I gave his crotch a little pat and said, “See that you do.”
I left and went back home where my ‘mom’ wanted a full report.
“It was great,” I said with feigned sincerity. “Stan is a really great guy. I thanked him for the mirror, and even asked if he wanted to hang out tomorrow.”
My wife was over the moon about this. I gave her a hug, enjoying the sensation of her large boobs pressed against my smaller ones. And then I retired to my room.
The second I got there, the real Cynthia’s palms slammed against her side of the mirror. And then she was pressing her face up against it. “Let me out!” she demanded. “No one will believe that you’re me!”
I laughed wickedly, then put a finger to my chin and said sweetly, “Mom, I’m going over to Stanley’s. I want to thank him for the mirror by riding his hard cock. I bet I can make him cum in under a minute.”
The real Cynthia’s eyes grew wide as saucers. Her palm hit the other side of the mirror again. “You’re lying!”
I nodded as I began to take off the romper, slowly this time. I was in no hurry now. “That’s true. I didn’t tell your mom that I was going over to fuck the boy whose been obssessed with you all his life. But that is exactly what happened.”
I pushed the romper all the way down. I ran my hand down to the perfectly identical copy of the real Cynthia’s slit, and parted it with two fingers. A small bit of Stanley’s cum dribbled out.
The real Cynthia’s face twisted in disgust at seeing herself do something so perverted. She began shaking her head in denial while saying, “No…no. No you didn’t.”
“It’s a pity you didn’t get to enjoy it, but in a way I can help you enjoy sloppy seconds.
“Fuck you,” the real Cynthia spat, and she spit a glob of saliva that hit her side of the mirror.
“That’s precisely what I intend to do. My brothers, please, assist her.”
All of a sudden fear gripped the real Cynthia, as hundreds of invisible hands tightened around every inch of her skin. They moved her until she was positioned in a way that made her MY reflection. Her hand was down to her slit, her fingers parting her. And as I slid a finger in, so did she.
“Please, stop,” she begged.
I narrowed my eyes, and an invisible hand clamped over her mouth, silencing her protests. I began making her finger herself in time with me, pushing Stan’s cum deeper and deeper into my pussy as I did so.
“He wanted you so bad, Cynthia,” I moaned. “It was so easy to make him cum with your tight pussy. His mother heard us. She no longer thinks of you as the girl next door, but the slut that might ruin his future.”
The real Cynthia tried to shake her head, but couldn’t. All she could do was whimper and moan as I made her rub herself.
After a few minutes, I scooped up a finger of cum with a finger. I brought it to my mouth. The real Cynthia did the same. “Oh, I’m sorry,” I said. “I forgot, your cunt doesn’t have any of Stanley’s sweet cum. Here, I’ll share.” With that, I brought my cum laden finger to the mirror, making the real Cynthia do the same. When I withdrew it, the cum was now on her finger. I brought it to my mouth again, forcing her to mirror me. The invisible hand opened her mouth, and several more helped her push it onto her tongue so she could taste our master’s seed. I kept my finger in my mouth for a full minute so she would have to do the same, pushing it deeper, making her rub his cum all around her cheek and tongue.
Then I made her body writhe and contort while I played with her mirror self. I knew exactly how and where she liked to be touched, and I brought her right to the edge again and again.
“Cum with me, Cynthia,” I finally told her. “Let these bodies bask in the pleasure together..”
“Let me talk to Stanley!” she said with wasted breath. “Please! I’ll tell him I’m sorry! I’ll even let him sleep with the real me! Just have him get me out of here!”
I smiled, my teeth showing unnaturally sharp points. “I’ll let you talk to him tomorrow. If you cum with me, right now.”
The look she gave me then is something my kind live for. A moment of brokenness where a pathetic human gives in. After a conflicted second where she knew she didn’t have a choice, she allowed the pleasure to sweep over her, and climaxed with me. As she did, energy shot out from her side of the mirror, briefly revealing the thousands of my kind surrounding her. It was very lucky for her that her eyes were closed.
I released her afterwards. She wanted to keep whining and pleading with me, but she had nothing I wanted at present. So I put the blanket over the mirror, and enjoyed the silence as I lay away in bed, cumming over and over throughout the night.
In the morning, I went downstairs and fed this body in front of the parents. Not because I needed food, but for show. The mother reminded me that she was going out with the father and wouldn’t be back until evening. I did not care about the details. I just smiled, told her I’d miss them because that’s what she wanted to hear, and then went back upstairs. When they left, I called Stanley.
“Her parents are gone,” I said in a low, needy voice. “Come over. This body wants you to fuck it again. And the Cynthia that’s trapped in the mirror would like to speak with you. I would really like to see that as well.”
Stanley made excuses about having to do something for his father, but then would be right there. To pass the time, I threw off the blanket covering the mirror, and made the real Cynthia masturbate some more. I loved watching her face as I cum. The face I’ll see her make later though, will be exquisite.
I’m covered in a sheen of sweat when Stanley finally arrives. He walks into the room and I see the anxiousness etched on his face as he looks between me and the real Cynthia in the mirror. He had a real hand in trapping her there, and I’m curious as to what he’ll say.
I nod subtly, and my brothers inside the mirror plane let Cynthia go. She begins babbling immediately.
“Stanley, please, get me out of here. I’m sorry for telling on you for spying on me. I’m sorry for treating you like a leper at school. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. If you get me out of here, I’ll do whatever you want me to do.”
It’s a good pitch, and as she delivered it, I saw several different emotions run across the Stanley’s face . Sorrow. Anger. Despair. Hope. Frustration. Lust.
It’s that last one though that I use to stay in control. I pressed my naked, sweaty flesh against him and whispered into his ear, “You know that I’ll let you do whatever you want me as well, Stanley. But I’ll do it better than she can. Sluttier than she can. And I won’t be faking it. And I’ll do it all, every twisted kinky thing you want me to do, until the day you die.” I snaked a hand down his pants. My words, and perhaps my current slick and naked state, had already made him hard. “Let’s fuck in front of her,” I said in his ear, which caused him to shudder and his dick to twitch.
He let out a breath, then looked at the real Cynthia with cold eyes and said, “Sure thing.”
“Master is so naughty,” I said with a wink at the real Cynthia. “How do you want me master?”
“No!” the real Cynthia protested, but a second later, I’d muted her with a nod to my kind trapped on her side.
Stanley considered for a moment, then said, “Get on all fours and face the mirror.”
I knew I liked this human. “Yes, Master!” I said exuberantly. I got on all fours and put my ass in the air. I made eye contact with the real Cynthia, whose eyes were being held open so she didn’t miss a second of what was about to happen. “Oh yes master! Right there!” I exclaimed as Stanley suddenly penetrated me from behind. “I love it when you shove it in so deep that your balls slap against my ass.”
It was different than how I’d fucked him yesterday. He was very aggressive, trying to punish her through me. That only made it better. We both locked eyes on the woman he’d condemned to that side of the mirror. I made faces of exaggerated ecstasy while he looked at her with hate.
“Please, master,” I begged, my voice sounding as pitiful as the real Cynthia’s had earlier. “Slap my ass and tell me I belong to you!”
A sharp smack later and Stanley said, “You’re mine, Cynthia. All mine. Forever.”
“Oh thank you master!” I squealed. “It’s so totally true! I am all yours!”
The real Cynthia got to see Stanley cum in me first hand this time. I knew it was something she thought Stanley would never get to do in a hundred million years. Technically, he hadn’t. But as a perfect mirror image of her, he’d never be able to tell the difference.
I let him rest, then we fucked some more, all in front of the mirror. After a shower, he ate me out, we 69’d, I rode him, and finally I let him be on top. That was the only position I will try to keep to a minimum, because he is terrible at it.
Stanley’s mother called him on his phone after he’d been gone for four hours. He ignored it at first, but eventually answered. I overheard a terse back and forth where his mother demanded to know where he was, and he lied and said a friend’s, but she told him that his phone location was on and she knew exactly where he was. They yelled back and forth and the idiot actually called me his girlfriend. What a foolish human.
His mom responded with a very loud, “That slut is NOT your girlfriend.”
That prompted him to hang up the phone. I expected, no, HOPED that his mother would march over here and confront him. But she didn’t.
We ate, which again I did for show, and I gave him a couple of hours to recharge. We were lounging on his couch naked when Cynthia’s parents got home. Stanley went into full panic mode. He wanted to bolt out the back door. I slapped him in the face and said, “Follow me.”
He was stunned, but only for a second. Then he followed. I liked how easy this human was to manipulate. Sure, l call him ‘master,’ but he is not the one in control.
We’re upstairs and back in Cynthia’s room, just as her parents entered the front door. I pointed to the closet and said to Stanley, “Get in there and keep quiet.”
He did. It was a folding door with slats. It would allow Stanley a great view of everything that was about to transpire. I nodded towards my brothers in the mirror and said, “It’s time. Decide who will join me.”
The real Cynthia started to ask what I was talking about, but suddenly the invisible hands made her be my reflection again. In a flurried rush, I spun in place. All signs of sweat vanished and I smelled like I’d just stepped out of the shower. I put on cute pajamas that Cynthia’s mother had given her last Christmas. I looked at my ‘reflection,’ who appeared exactly the same as me. It’s not hard to manipulate the image when my kind has full control of what happens on that side of the mirror.
Footsteps could be heard, and I knew it was the mother coming to check on her baby girl. I arranged my face into an expression of delight that she’d returned home, which forced Cynthia to do the same. She looked as if she was happy to be on that side of the mirror. Only her eyes gave away the fact that something was wrong. That made sense, because the eyes are the window to the soul. I wondered if her mother would notice. She might. But by the time she does, it will be too late.
Part 3: Stanley
I noticed that Cynthia’s closet smelled really nice. Mine probably smelled like a garbage dump. It’s where I shove things I don’t wanna think about. Mom has been on my case to clean it, but I don’t see that happening anything soon. Cynthia, well, this new Cynthia, hadn’t complained about the smell of my clothes or my room. She’d jumped my bones without wrinkling her nose even once.
The clothes in the closet brushed against me. In the dim light I saw one was a fuzzy pink sweater. I’d seen her take that one off once. I’d seen her take off more than a few of these from the vantage point I had from my window into hers. I hated that the real Cynthia had caught me peeping on her that one time. She didn’t know I’d been doing it for quite some time. I’d even recorded some of them. I’m sure I could tell this version of Cynthia, who I now considered MY Cynthia. She wouldn’t care. She would probably think it was hot. She might ask to watch it with me while we fuck.
I gave a quiet laugh as my pervy thoughts had made me hard again. Despite how many times we’d had sex today, I was ready to go. Probably wouldn’t be able to though. Not with Cynthia’s mom and dad home. Plus I probably needed to get back to my own house, where my mom will no doubt read me the riot act for being out so late. She’s gotta learn that I’m not a kid anymore. I’m a grown man. I really should get a part time job so I can move out, but…I really don’t wanna.
If I can prove to them that Cynthia and I are together now, maybe they’ll let her move in with me. Oh, I could probably order MY Cynthia to get a job, what with me being her master and all. I love when she calls me that.
My thoughts are interrupted as Mrs. Duncan walks into the bedroom. In many ways she’s identical to her daughter. Same dark hair, same bone structure, and same pretty face. But Mrs. Duncanr was an inch taller. She wore her hair straight and it stopped at her shoulders. She’s a little thick around the middle, and her boobs are fucking awesome. Honestly, I wished Cynthia had her mom’s boobs. From my hiding place I saw Cynthia’s mom embrace her and nestle the side of Cynthia’s face right between those big milf tits. I was insanely jealous. Maybe if I got Cynthia pregnant she’d get those big boobs like her mother. Wait, could this version of Cynthia get pregnant? I mean…I’m very aware that she’s not exactly human, but…she certainly feels like it when I got my dick all up inside her tight pussy.
“Did you bring me home anything?” Cynthia asked sweetly.
Her mom laughed and said, “I always do, don’t I?”
“Ooh, what?” Cynthia asked.
“It’s a surprise. You’ll have to come downstairs and see.”
I sighed. I didn’t want Cynthia to leave the room. I wanted her to get her mom to leave, and then sneak me out. I should have just left earlier! Why had Cynthia banished me to the closet?
“One second, mom,” Cynthia continued. “First I have a surprise for you!”
Mrs. Duncan raised her eyebrows and looked around. “For me? What is it?”
Cynthia used a sweeping arm gesture towards the mirror. “It’s the chance to look at yourself in my new mirror!”
Mrs. Duncan laughed. “Oh, well, how thoughtful.” She tossed her dark hair dramatically as if she were a movie star, then went and stood dead center in front of the mirror. She struck a pose with her chest up, and her left leg out and bent slightly at the knee. “Yup, still got it.”
“You look so beautiful, mom,” Cynthia purred as she stole behind Mrs. Duncan.
From the slit in the closet, I could see that my Cynthia was talking to her ‘mom,’ but she was looking right at me. It’s like she was trying to get me to pay attention, like she was about to do something.
“Well thank you sweetie,” Mrs. Duncan said with a wide smile. “That’s very nice of you to say.” But the smile faltered on her face as the person she thought was her daughter put her hands around her middle, and very purposefully brought them up to her tits.
“I bet my master thinks you’re beautiful too,” Cynthia said sweetly in the woman’s ear. “And I think he’d like to fuck you.”
I could tell Mrs. Duncan wanted to say something, but she seemed to have lost the ability to speak. She seemed to kind of freeze up actually, but only for a moment. And then the smile was back on her face. But, no, it was a different kind of smile. It looked…unnatural.
Instead of pushing her daughter’s hands off her boobs, she brought her own hands up and helped her daughter squeeze them. Surely this was some kind of weird game that their family played. But when her mom spoke next, I knew I was wrong. Something had happened. Something that was making me rock hard.
With a happy sigh, Mrs. Duncan said, “I’d like that sweetie. I’d love nothing more than a chance to fuck that young man. He seemed like a real stud in bed.”
I’m not dumb. I could have been on the honor roll if I wanted, I just didn’t care about applying myself. But as smart as I am, I did not understand what was happening. I watched as both women turned to face the closet. Her mom held up a finger, and beckoned me to come out. How did she know I was here, unless…
“Come here, master,” Mrs. Duncan said. “Let me see if you’re interested in having full access to this body as well.”
She’d…she’d called me ‘master.’ I pushed the folding door open and stepped out. Both women looked down at my crotch.
Cynthia licked her lips and said, “It appears he likes you, ‘mom.’”
It was my turn to freeze as her mom approached me with eyes that made their intent very clear. She wanted me!
The middle aged woman suddenly moved so fast, getting right up in front of me. She grabbed my wrist and brought my hand up to her chest. She mashed my palm against it, and I felt my hand sink into the pillow softness of her boob. Simultaneously, Mrs. Duncan let out the sexiest, neediest moan I’ve ever heard.
Cynthia came up next to her while she cupped her own chest. “Mom’s boobs are so much bigger than mine. I bet your cock would fit perfectly between them, master.”
Her mom was suddenly pressing herself against me, her hot breath in my ear. “Would you like that, master? You want to fuck my big juicy tits?”
I stammered out a “Y-yes, ma’am.”
She laughed softly in my ear, then gave my earlobe a nip before she pulled away. “‘Ma’am.’ You’re funny, master. You can call me Joan, or Mrs. Duncan for now so we don’t give anything away. Later, when we don’t have to worry about interruptions, you can call me whatever you want.”
“Why…later?” I asked.
As if in answer, a male voice rang out through the house. “Joan, you’re coming back, right?”
Mrs. Duncan called back, “Be right there, dear!” She looked at me with a sly grin. “I’m afraid I’ll have to come back after I’ve put that human to bed. I’m afraid the original Joan promised him sex tonight.” She grabbed my crotch and gave my dick a squeeze. “Don’t worry though master, it won’t take long, not with how hard I’m about to fuck him. It’ll be the hottest sex he’s ever had.”
Cynthia gave her mom a firm smack on the butt. “Go get him, Momma. Call him Daddy when he’s inside you. Human males really like that.”
“Thanks for the tip,” she said as she put a hand on Cynthia’s cheek. Both women seemed to be side eyeing me. “You’re such a good, slutty daughter. How about a kiss?”
And then their lips met, and their mouths opened. I’d never seen a kiss with so much tongue. They started to grope each other’s chest. Mrs. Duncan even started to slip a hand down her daughter’s crotch when Cynthia stopped her.
“No, go and tend to the man downstairs. When you come back you can have as much of this body as you want, ‘mother.’”
Mrs. Duncan nodded, and then strode obediently from the room. Whatever was happening, Cynthia was clearly in charge.
I shut the bedroom door, because I had questions. But before I could ask any though, I heard a voice from the mirror.
“Where am I? What’s happening?” Mrs. Duncan cried.
“I’m here too, mom!” the real Cynthia shouted, her eyes darting wildly around.
I looked into the mirror and saw both women clearly, but for some reason, they couldn’t see each other.
As both trapped women began to talk to each other, the Cynthia on my side of the mirror draped a blanket over it, instantly silencing the conversation.
“As much as I might enjoy hearing them break, I think we’ll wait until ‘mother dearest’ is back,” she explained.
I asked my Cynthia, “So…what happened to Mrs. Duncan? Are you inside her now too?”
For an instant, my Cynthia looked at me like I was an idiot. But then she smiled and shook her head. “No, master. That’s one of my brethren. Another of my kind. He has taken on the role of the older woman now.”
“But…why?” I asked.
Cynthia pushed me onto the couch and knelt at my feet. She took my cock in her hand and stroked it lazily. “Do you not want that woman?”
“I do, but-”
“Isn’t it more convenient to have one of my kind take her place? Having a mirror version of ‘mom’ will make it so you can come over and fuck me whenever you’d like.”
“Well, whenever my mom will let me,” I corrected.
“I’m sure we’ll have plenty of opportunities,” she said with that unnerving smile she sometimes gave. “Now, how shall we spend this time we have until my ‘mom’ comes back?”
“Um…I suppose you could-”
But she took the words out of my mouth as she blew on the tip of my penis. And then she began to edge me with her mouth. I’ve never had blowjobs before this experience, but I’m pretty sure the creature from the mirrorverse gives the best ones in the history of ever. She brought me right up to the edge of climax again and again, but then stopped and let me get soft. The only time I almost blew my load was when I heard Mrs. Duncan moaning down the hall as her husband plowed her. I couldn’t hear everything she was saying, but it sounded like she was urging her husband to fuck her harder. To not care that their daughter was in the house.
I wondered if Mrs. Duncan, this mirror version of her, would talk that way to me? I know I for sure wanted to make her moan like that with MY dick. Maybe not tonight though. But sometime soon when Mr. Duncan wasn’t home.
“Ow!” I suddenly yelped as Cynthia gave my balls a sharp squeeze.
“You were about to cum, master,” she smiled. She licked her lips. Her tongue seemed so long, and…had it been forked? “I could smell it. But we wanna save it inside your balls, don’t we master. That way you can paint my momma’s pretty face with it soon. Will you do that for me, master? Will you shoot your jizz all over my sweet mother’s face? It’d be so hot.”
I saw that she was rubbing her pussy as she said all this. It was so fucking sexy. But still, my balls were my balls, and I didn’t like em squeezed. “Uh, sure, just, don’t be so rough with my balls.”
She smiled, and I’m not sure I believed her when she said, “Of course, master.”
It was about 10pm when Mrs. Duncan snuck back into the room. Her daughter’s mouth was still slobbering all over my junk and I had my eyes closed, so I didn’t know she was there until I heard the soft click of the latch on the door. I looked up and let out a low moan as I saw that she was completely naked.
My Cynthia quickly got to her feet and rushed to her mirror mother. I watched the horrified faces of the real Cynthia and Mrs. Duncan as their clones embraced one another and began kissing passionately. I took my cock into my own hands and stroked as I enjoyed the reuniting of this fake mother and daughter.
I could tell the real versions wanted to protest, but invisible hands had muted them.
My Cynthia’s hand went down to her mother’s slit and fingered her. She pulled up a glob of her father’s spunk. She put it into her mouth and sucked her finger clean, then said, “I think master would like you to have fresh pussy, mother. Allow me to help you with that.”
She looked at the mirror and said, “Let them move with us.”
At once the real versions of Cynthia and Mrs. Duncan were forced into the positions that their clones were in. For a split second I saw joy on their faces, because the real versions could suddenly see each other. But as the mirror clone of Cynthia sank to her knees, making the real Cynthia do the same, those looks shifted to fear and revulsion. And then my Cynthia put her mouth to her fake mother, and began licking out the cum Mr. Duncan had just deposited there.
I kept looking between what was happening in front of me, as well as what the real versions were being made to do. The mirror clone of Mrs. Duncan was groping her big tits now, forcing the real version to do the same. Mirror Cynthia brought her hands up to squeeze her fake mother’s ass, spreading her cheeks apart and running a finger up and down the crack.
I could have watched this for hours, but when my Cynthia had finished, she looked up and said, “All clean, Mommy. Daddy’s cum was super duper yummy.”
They both looked at me as Mrs. Duncan said, “Do you like your father’s cum better than our masters?”
“Oh no,” Cynthia said indignantly. “Master’s is truly the best. Why don’t you go see for yourself.”
And then Mrs. Duncan was on her knees and had my cock between her big boobs. She began sliding it up and down her cleavage while her daughter kissed her, then me, then her again. And I was not going to be able to take very much of this, especially when Mrs. Duncan began talking dirty.
“I want you to cum on these big tits, Stanley. I wanna feel your hot sticky jizz all over my skin. Mark me master! Mark my hot milf body!”
My cock twitched, and then erupted. My jizz landed on her face and chest. As it did, she shuddered and moaned like I’d just made HER cum. She let go of her tits and began scooping it up with her fingers and swallowed it as quick as she could.
“You were right, sweetie. It’s so yummy.”
“I told you,” Cynthia said, right before she put her mouth to her mom’s boobs and began helping herself to the cum I’d shot there.
After all the cum was off Mrs. Duncan, they both helped give my junk one last tongue bath, then helped me put my clothes back on. Needless to say, I was spent.
“Go home and rest,” Cynthia ordered. “Maybe eat something. You’ll need your stamina.”
“There’s so much more fucking we need to do,” Mrs. Duncan added.
I trudged home, which I was very glad was so close. I walked into the darkness of my living room, and heard a lamp click on. There was my mother. And she looked very pissed off.
“We pay your cell phone bill, Stanley. So when I call, I expect you to answer. I talked with your father, and I finally got him to agree that we’ve been to soft with you. Starting tomorrow, you’ve got a job working with your uncle as a roofer.”
All the joy I’d felt from today evaporated in an instant and was replaced with anger. “What? No! You can’t do that!”
“As long as you’re under our roof, you’ll live by our rules,” my mother said for like the millionth time. “Now go to bed. You’ll need to be up bright and early.”
I was about to storm off to my bedroom, when my Mom added, “Oh yes, give me your phone.”
“What? Why?!”
“Because if you can’t answer it, you don’t need it.”
She held out her hand and gave me that look that means if I don’t comply, she’s gonna find a way to make it even worse. I very begrudgingly took out my phone, and handed it to her. Then I stormed off. I briefly thought about checking in with Dad, who I assumed was already in bed, but apparently he’s with mom on this one.
Despite the anger I felt towards my new circumstance, I was able to fall asleep rather quickly. I guess that’s another perk of getting laid so many times.
Way, way too early, my mom woke me up. She made me eat breakfast, which is a meal I usually skip, and then my uncle picked me up for what would be a very long day.
I was made to do manual fucking labor. I had to carry stuff up a ladder, and move it here, and then move it there, and I felt like I got yelled at constantly and the whole thing just fucking sucked. And I had to do it for 8 hours. 8 HOURS!!! When my uncle finally told me we were done for the day, I wanted to spit in his face and tell him I never wanted to see him again. But I knew if I did, I’d probably be homeless that night. So I kept my internal rage to myself.
When my uncle pulled onto my street, I looked towards Cynthia’s house. I don’t care what Mom says, she can’t ban me from going over there.
I saw the front door open, and I sucked in a breath as my mom walked out the front door. Shit shit shit! What was that about?! And then a horrible thought crossed my mind. Mom had my phone. She’d had it all day. What if Cynthia sent me a text? Like one telling me to come over so I could fuck her brains out!
I watched my mom cross our yard. From this distance I couldn’t tell if she was mad. I’d planned on being extra pissy the second I got home, but now I just wanted to avoid her. I thought about going straight to Cynthia’s, but I saw her dad’s car was there. And I was aware of how very smelly I was after a grueling day of slave labor. There was also that avoiding my mom might make things worse. I resolved to check in and see what was what. Hopefully I’m just being paranoid. Maybe she’ll see how sweaty and tired I am and give me my phone back. Yeah, and maybe a million dollars will fall from the sky.
My paranoia seemed justified as I walked into my house. I could hear my mother washing dishes. Angrily. By that I mean water was loudly splashing in the sink and dishes were being loudly stacked one on top of each other on the counter. Despite the noise she was making, she still heard the door shut behind me. “Stanley Cornelius Cooper, get in here!”
Uh oh. My full name. Not a good start. I was on the defensive now, which meant I would remain quiet so as not to give Mom any extra ammunition to use against me. Innocent until proven guilty and all that. Except the way she was washing those dishes in the sink made it seem like she’d already decided on her verdict. The water sloshed about wildly in the sink as she moved her arms back and forth with a fervor in the sudsy water. Several times she created a wave that would splash up against the sides and soak the front of her shirt. She usually wore an apron when she did the dishes, but not today. Today she was wearing just a plain white shirt. I thought she had been wearing something purple when we ate breakfast? She must have changed after she worked out or something.
Suddenly she spoke, and the interrogation was underway. “Care to explain yourself?”
She didn’t turn to look at me. Just kept directly in front of the sink so she could wash, splash, and stack.
“What?!” I said, sharper than I meant to. Couldn’t help it. I was also pissed. “I worked with my uncle like you said I had to. I carried stuff up ladders. Got blisters. I was all fucking bullshit.”
“Language!” she snapped in a voice that normally would have made me back down. But I was just too angry.
“So sorry I said a bad word! I meant to say it was freaking terrible, and I hated it, and now I’m going to go upstairs to shower, and then go see my girlfriend!”
“I don’t think so, mister,” my mom said coldly. “I don’t think you’ll be going over there anytime soon. Not after the text message she sent to your phone a half hour ago.”
Suddenly I had a knot in my stomach.
“You want to know what that little hussy said? She asked where you were and how come you haven’t come over yet so she could drain your balls? Seriously, Stanley! This is not the kind of girl your father and I want you with!”
The knot tightened, and a hopelessness spread out to my limbs, making them tremble with dread. My mom would never accept a girl that talked like that. I hoped there wasn’t more, but mom was still talking.
“So I went over to confront your little girlfriend,” Mom continued. “Her mother answered the door. I showed her the text. To her credit, at least her mom had the decency to be embarrassed and apologetic. She told me things had been hard at home and that Cynthia was going through a phase. She invited me in, and took me upstairs so I could see a mirror in her daughter’s room.”
Surely I hadn’t heard that right. “Wh-what?” I croaked. “What did you just say?”
And that’s when Mom stopped washing dishes, and turned towards me. She put her hands on her hips, and pushed out her chest. The front of her white shirt was completely soaked. Like, it couldn’t get any wetter. And it was completely see through. And Mom…wasn’t wearing a bra. I could see her boobs, and her pink pointy nipples protruding from them.
“I said I looked into the mirror, Stanley,” she said, with an eerie smile that I’d seen on two other women last night.
No. This can’t be happening.
Mom gave a fake gasp and said mock indignation, “Gee, Stanley, is there something on my chest? You can’t seem to stop staring at it? Oh no, it’s my shirt, isn’t it! It’s so wet! I better just take it off.”
And then she lifted her shirt, and suddenly my mom was topless in front of me in my kitchen. Except…it wasn’t my mom. It was a thing that looked like her. Sounded like her. But it was not her.
“I can see why you like to stare though, sweetie. Mommy’s got a nice rack.” She pushed her boobs together and held them out to me. “Do you like them better than the milf’s next door? Please say you do, or you’ll make mommy so sad.”
No. No no no no no no no! When the shock finally wore off, I found my voice. “I didn’t give you permission to…to take her!” I yelled. “That’s my mom! Go back to the mirror and switch places with her right now!”
My mom’s face went from playful and seductive, to the most sinister thing I’ve ever seen. For a second, her face didn’t resemble anything human, but was like something from another world. An evil world.
When she spoke, I could still hear a bit of my mom’s voice, but tinged with something old and malevolent. “Say that again boy, and I’ll tear you limb from limb.”
I was so scared in that moment, that I pissed myself.
My mom, or the thing that looked like my mom, noticed the dark spot that spread out over my crotch. She suddenly looked like herself again and said, “Oh, did my baby have an accident? Let’s get you all cleaned up.”
I couldn’t move as she walked over to me. She scooped me up like I weighed nothing. She took me upstairs to the bathroom and stripped me bare. She got the water nice and hot in the bathtub, and then put me in and began to wash me like she used to when I was little. While she did she hummed a familiar tune, and looked at me with that expression of maternal love I’d always known from her.
The illusion was so perfect that I could almost really believe it was her. But I kept remembering that it wasn’t. The truth was that my mom was next door. Trapped in an evil mirror. And it was all my fault.
“Baby, don’t be sad?” she said as she saw my lower lip tremble. “I know what will make you feel better.”
And then she pushed my face into her bare chest, and said, “Go on. Suck on mom’s nipples like you did when you were little. That’ll calm you right down, baby.”
I was scared and broken now, and I automatically opened my mouth, and received what she slipped inside. It tasted like…home, and I began to suck greedily.
“Mm, that’s a good boy,” my mom said. “Oh my, it looks like someone’s popped up to say hello.”
I knew then that I’d gotten hard. I felt her hand, a hand that had patted me on the head lovingly so many times, reach down, and begin to stroke my cock that was sticking out of the water.
“You’e not my little boy anymore, are you baby. You’re my big man. Let momma show you how she takes care of her big man.”
She stroked me, and whispered lovingly in my ear, all while I sucked on her tits. Until I came.
“Oh there’s so much baby. I’m so proud of you. Such a good boy. Next time I hope your cum goes in mommy’s pussy. I bet you’d like that even more. Right?”
“Yes, mom,” I said blankly.
She made me stand up so she could towel me dry. Afterwards she said, “Now go downstairs, because we’re having company soon.”
I almost asked who, but I knew the answer. “Okay. I’ll…I’ll get some clothes on and-”
“No need, baby. Come down just you are. Such a handsome young man.”
All I could do was nod and say, “Okay.”
My mirror mom and I sat naked across from each other at our dining room table, waiting for our guests. After twenty minutes, and without so much as a knock, Cynthia and Mrs. Duncan entered the house. They were just as naked as we were.
My mom’s face tightened. She kept a smile on her face, but I could tell it was just a mask as she said, “He told me that I should go back into the mirror.”
Cynthia scowled at me for a second, but quickly softened her features. “That’s out of the question, ‘master.’”
The word ‘master' dripped from her lips with unveiled sarcasm, and I understood now that it was an empty title. I’d been used. This had all been a ruse so that the creatures on the other side of the mirror could escape to our plane of existence.
Cynthia came over to sit on my lap. She began stroking my hair as she said patiently, “When you summoned me with that arcane ritual, I gave you the instructions to make a portal for me to come through. I said if you did, I’d be able to become a perfect copy of anyone you wanted, and then I’d live to serve you. But I was very clear that once I replaced the original, we would never go back. Ever.”
I looked into the eyes of the girl I’d obsessed over for as long as I could remember. But the eyes that looked back at me had become soulless and black.
“I’ll serve you for as long as you live master. But that won’t be very long if you ever ask me or any of my kind to return to that place. Understand?”
I nodded slowly.
Cynthia smiled, and then the whites of her eyes and pupils returned. “Great! Now let’s celebrate! Who do you want first, master?”
My mom, Mrs. Duncan, and Cynthia all presented themselves to me by holding out their boobs.
As tempting as the sight was, I had a dreadful question I needed to ask. “Are there…more of you? Your kind, I mean? Are they coming through too?”
All three women nodded. I tried to choke down the panic I felt, but I couldn’t stop myself from hyperventilating.
My mom said, “Don’t worry ladies. I know how to handle this.”
She touched Cynthia’s arm, and the girl got off my lap. My mother took her place, straddling me. She began stroking my hair. “Yes, sweetie. More will come.”
“H-h-how many?” I asked.
She rocked on my lap, and I felt her slick pussy glide along the length of my dick as she gave me the bad news. “Thousands, sweetie. Thousands. They’ll become the people you know, and many people you don’t. This whole town will belong to us, and everyone in it will be willing to serve you.”
Just then my dad walked in the front door. We all looked at him, and in a panic I blurted, “Shit! Dad, this isn’t…I can explain!”
He grinned at me and said, “No need. I’ve already visited the mirror, ‘son.’” He began to take off all his clothes. “I was hoping though you’d let me have a turn with one of these ladies’ holes. Perhaps I could use your mother’s mouth while you fuck her from behind?”
“That sounds wonderful, darling,” my mom said as she climbed off my lap. My boner already missed her. I watched as she got on all fours and took my father into her mouth.
“Go ahead and fuck Mommy,” Cynthia urged with a smile. And then she began to eat out her own mother on the kitchen counter.
I obediently got down on my knees, and thrust into my mother from behind.
I heard her choke on dad’s cock for a second, then she looked back at me and said, “Mm, so big for mommy. Fuck me sweetie.”
I did. And as moans began to fill the room, Mrs. Cooper told me, “Cynthia invited her former cheerleading squad to a party at our house tomorrow, master. We’re going to have them all look in the mirror. And then we can have your former teachers. Anyone and everyone you’ve ever wanted to fuck or enslave, they’ll all be yours.
It’s everything I ever wanted. And all it cost me was everyone I ever held dear.
The end.
body control
+5 more
1
11.9K
3
2
A witch is invited to a college party and offers a special game of Beer Pong. It is a very special version of hooking up.
The silence in the room was thick enough to chew. All eyes were locked on Keisha and the impossible sight of Tai’s arms buried deep within her. Her face was a mask of pure, unadulterated fury, her body trembling not with fear, but with volcanic rage.
“Maybe I can dig it out with my other hand?” Tai offered, his voice muffled and strained from inside her.
“TAI! DON’T YOU DA—” Keisha’s command was obliterated by a guttural, choking scream as his second hand plunged in after the first, the tight ring of muscle at her entrance stretching with an audible, wet sssskkkrtch to accommodate the double intrusion. Inside, the sensation was beyond anything she could have conceived. It wasn't just a presence; it was a colonizing force. She could feel the precise shape of his fingers, the rough texture of his palms as they brushed against her most intimate internal walls, exploring, mapping her from the inside out. A hot, full pressure began to build deep in her core, a feeling of being packed, filled beyond her limits.
“Vivian,” Keisha hissed, her voice dripping with venom, every word a struggle. “There is currently a Korean man wedged shoulder deep in my anal cavity. Would you PLEASE do something about it before he explodes out through my stomach?”
Vivian’s eyes lit up with demonic glee. “Oooh, do something about it?! I thought you’d never ask!” She practically skipped behind Keisha, placing her small foot squarely on the small of Tai’s back, the only part of him still visible.
The kick wasn’t forceful, but it was decisive. With a sound like a giant cork being pulled from a bottle of thick oil, followed by a deep, resonant FWUMP, Tai’s torso was suddenly propelled inward. Keisha’s eyes shot wide, then instantly rolled back into her head, a strangled grunt the only protest she could muster as her body accepted the violation. Her glorious, sculpted ass cheeks quivered violently before clapping together with a final, wet smack, sealing Tai completely inside her. For a moment, she stood there, stunned, her body humming with the shock of the intrusion.
Then, the real transformation began.
A distinct bulge, the unmistakable outline of a man’s face, pushed against the tight, toned skin of her lower abdomen. Keisha looked down, her horror reflected in the faces of the onlookers. “Wha— what is that?” she gasped, her hands flying to the protrusion. As she touched it, the face within seemed to smile, stretching her skin grotesquely.
The rest of Tai followed in a relentless, internal avalanche. She felt him bundling into her stomach, a tangle of limbs and mass forcing her midsection to distend outward. Her flat, hard-won abs disappeared, replaced by a bloated, pregnant dome that strained her skin. Inside, it was a maelstrom. Tai, disoriented and panicked, began to thrash. His knees jerked, and Keisha’s legs buckled involuntarily. His elbows flailed, and her arms spasmed at her sides. She stumbled, a marionette with a frantic puppeteer trapped inside her, emitting a series of choked yelps and moans with every involuntary movement.
“You said you were going to help!” Keisha accused Vivian, her voice wavering as she struggled to remain upright.
Vivian just blinked. “I did help you. Is he still stuck?”
Keisha’s mental struggle was a silent scream in a dissolving prison. My body! This is MY body! she thought, a mantra of defiance. But with every thrash, Tai’s consciousness seeped into her nerves, his confusion and panic becoming her own. She felt his legs, strong and muscular, sliding into the length of her own. It was a horrifying, stretching sensation, like her bones were being remolded. Her thighs, already powerful, gained a new, thicker solidity. Her calves tightened. And then, with a final, psychic click, control of her legs was severed from her brain and handed over to his. He was in charge of moving them now.
The loss of autonomy was more terrifying than the physical invasion. She tried to command her legs to step forward, but they remained rooted. Instead, Tai, blindly seeking leverage, forced them to collapse.
She fell backward, her enormous new ass—now the seat of his consciousness—thudding onto the carpet with a jiggle that sent a shockwave through her frame. The impact seemed to energize him. Using the new-found anchor of her lower body, he began to push upward, trying to climb out of the fleshy well of her torso.
Keisha’s upper body was dragged across the floor, her back arching, her head lolling. She was a passenger, forced to feel every graze of the carpet, every powerful, uncoordinated jerk. Next, his arms slipped into hers. The feeling was one of overwhelming fullness; her biceps and forearms thickened, gaining a lean, wiry strength that was entirely his. Her hands, once her own, now felt alien, their movements his impulses.
The final assault was on her head. The bulging face in her stomach began its ascent, tunneling up through her organs, a relentless pressure moving up her diaphragm, between her lungs, pushing her breasts aside. She could feel the shape of his nose, his lips, his brow ridge moving up through her core. Her neck distended, a grotesque balloon animal version of itself as his head forced its way into the column. She arched her back, a final, desperate attempt to keep her own head above the rising tide of him, her eyes locking with Vivian’s in a final promise of vengeance.
“Remember, bitch. I WILL get you back for this.”
It was her last coherent thought. His skull pressed up against the base of her own, and with a final, full-body spasm that was entirely his doing, he merged. It was like a key turning in a lock. Her consciousness didn’t vanish; it was simply… submerged, pushed into a tiny, dark corner of her own mind. She was aware, but she was no longer in control. She could only watch, a ghost in her own machine, as her eyes—his eyes now—snapped open.
“Holy shit, was that a ride!” The voice that came from her mouth was Tai’s—his cadence, his excited pitch—but filtered through Keisha’s softer vocal cords, creating a strange, androgynous sound. He sat up, using her hands to grab a fistful of her own wispy raven hair, his amazement palpable. “Thank god I landed on this bean bag when I fell though, I’d hate to damage the goods before I got to sample them!” He chuckled, patting the generous curve of her ass beneath him.
From the corner, Danny, still lounging on the actual beanbag, piped up. “But dude, I’m on the bean bag! You didn’t land on anything bro. That’s just Keisha’s…”
A look of dawning, ecstatic comprehension spread across Keisha’s features—Tai’s expressions now. “OH SWEET MOSES!” he exclaimed, the voice a perfect blend of his shock and her tone. He scrambled to his feet—her feet—with an agility that was all his. His hands, her hands, flew to the monumental cheeks he’d just been sitting on, groping and kneading the flesh with ravenous disbelief.
The sensation was double-layered: Tai’s euphoric discovery and, buried deep within, Keisha’s mortified, screaming silence as she felt her own hands violating her in ways she never had. He shook his—their—hips, watching in a nearby reflective surface as the jiggle propagated in a wave of mesmerizing motion.
“Is this what she feels ALL THE TIME!” he whooped, his laughter echoing in the silent, stunned room. Inside, Keisha fought, a desperate mental push against a wall of overwhelming control. She tried to scream, to regain a muscle, but was pulled into Tai. She was no longer separate but now a part of Tai. Her body was no longer hers. It was now Taisha’s. And Taisha was thrilled.
The silence in the room was thick enough to chew. All eyes were locked on Keisha and the impossible sight of Tai’s arms buried deep within her. Her face was a mask of pure, unadulterated fury, her body trembling not with fear, but with volcanic rage.
“Maybe I can dig it out with my other hand?” Tai offered, his voice muffled and strained from inside her.
“TAI! DON’T YOU DA—” Keisha’s command was obliterated by a guttural, choking scream as his second hand plunged in after the first, the tight ring of muscle at her entrance stretching with an audible, wet sssskkkrtch to accommodate the double intrusion. Inside, the sensation was beyond anything she could have conceived. It wasn't just a presence; it was a colonizing force. She could feel the precise shape of his fingers, the rough texture of his palms as they brushed against her most intimate internal walls, exploring, mapping her from the inside out. A hot, full pressure began to build deep in her core, a feeling of being packed, filled beyond her limits.
“Vivian,” Keisha hissed, her voice dripping with venom, every word a struggle. “There is currently a Korean man wedged shoulder deep in my anal cavity. Would you PLEASE do something about it before he explodes out through my stomach?”
Vivian’s eyes lit up with demonic glee. “Oooh, do something about it?! I thought you’d never ask!” She practically skipped behind Keisha, placing her small foot squarely on the small of Tai’s back, the only part of him still visible.
The kick wasn’t forceful, but it was decisive. With a sound like a giant cork being pulled from a bottle of thick oil, followed by a deep, resonant FWUMP, Tai’s torso was suddenly propelled inward. Keisha’s eyes shot wide, then instantly rolled back into her head, a strangled grunt the only protest she could muster as her body accepted the violation. Her glorious, sculpted ass cheeks quivered violently before clapping together with a final, wet smack, sealing Tai completely inside her. For a moment, she stood there, stunned, her body humming with the shock of the intrusion.
Then, the real transformation began.
A distinct bulge, the unmistakable outline of a man’s face, pushed against the tight, toned skin of her lower abdomen. Keisha looked down, her horror reflected in the faces of the onlookers. “Wha— what is that?” she gasped, her hands flying to the protrusion. As she touched it, the face within seemed to smile, stretching her skin grotesquely.
The rest of Tai followed in a relentless, internal avalanche. She felt him bundling into her stomach, a tangle of limbs and mass forcing her midsection to distend outward. Her flat, hard-won abs disappeared, replaced by a bloated, pregnant dome that strained her skin. Inside, it was a maelstrom. Tai, disoriented and panicked, began to thrash. His knees jerked, and Keisha’s legs buckled involuntarily. His elbows flailed, and her arms spasmed at her sides. She stumbled, a marionette with a frantic puppeteer trapped inside her, emitting a series of choked yelps and moans with every involuntary movement.
“You said you were going to help!” Keisha accused Vivian, her voice wavering as she struggled to remain upright.
Vivian just blinked. “I did help you. Is he still stuck?”
Keisha’s mental struggle was a silent scream in a dissolving prison. My body! This is MY body! she thought, a mantra of defiance. But with every thrash, Tai’s consciousness seeped into her nerves, his confusion and panic becoming her own. She felt his legs, strong and muscular, sliding into the length of her own. It was a horrifying, stretching sensation, like her bones were being remolded. Her thighs, already powerful, gained a new, thicker solidity. Her calves tightened. And then, with a final, psychic click, control of her legs was severed from her brain and handed over to his. He was in charge of moving them now.
The loss of autonomy was more terrifying than the physical invasion. She tried to command her legs to step forward, but they remained rooted. Instead, Tai, blindly seeking leverage, forced them to collapse.
She fell backward, her enormous new ass—now the seat of his consciousness—thudding onto the carpet with a jiggle that sent a shockwave through her frame. The impact seemed to energize him. Using the new-found anchor of her lower body, he began to push upward, trying to climb out of the fleshy well of her torso.
Keisha’s upper body was dragged across the floor, her back arching, her head lolling. She was a passenger, forced to feel every graze of the carpet, every powerful, uncoordinated jerk. Next, his arms slipped into hers. The feeling was one of overwhelming fullness; her biceps and forearms thickened, gaining a lean, wiry strength that was entirely his. Her hands, once her own, now felt alien, their movements his impulses.
The final assault was on her head. The bulging face in her stomach began its ascent, tunneling up through her organs, a relentless pressure moving up her diaphragm, between her lungs, pushing her breasts aside. She could feel the shape of his nose, his lips, his brow ridge moving up through her core. Her neck distended, a grotesque balloon animal version of itself as his head forced its way into the column. She arched her back, a final, desperate attempt to keep her own head above the rising tide of him, her eyes locking with Vivian’s in a final promise of vengeance.
“Remember, bitch. I WILL get you back for this.”
It was her last coherent thought. His skull pressed up against the base of her own, and with a final, full-body spasm that was entirely his doing, he merged. It was like a key turning in a lock. Her consciousness didn’t vanish; it was simply… submerged, pushed into a tiny, dark corner of her own mind. She was aware, but she was no longer in control. She could only watch, a ghost in her own machine, as her eyes—his eyes now—snapped open.
“Holy shit, was that a ride!” The voice that came from her mouth was Tai’s—his cadence, his excited pitch—but filtered through Keisha’s softer vocal cords, creating a strange, androgynous sound. He sat up, using her hands to grab a fistful of her own wispy raven hair, his amazement palpable. “Thank god I landed on this bean bag when I fell though, I’d hate to damage the goods before I got to sample them!” He chuckled, patting the generous curve of her ass beneath him.
From the corner, Danny, still lounging on the actual beanbag, piped up. “But dude, I’m on the bean bag! You didn’t land on anything bro. That’s just Keisha’s…”
A look of dawning, ecstatic comprehension spread across Keisha’s features—Tai’s expressions now. “OH SWEET MOSES!” he exclaimed, the voice a perfect blend of his shock and her tone. He scrambled to his feet—her feet—with an agility that was all his. His hands, her hands, flew to the monumental cheeks he’d just been sitting on, groping and kneading the flesh with ravenous disbelief.
The sensation was double-layered: Tai’s euphoric discovery and, buried deep within, Keisha’s mortified, screaming silence as she felt her own hands violating her in ways she never had. He shook his—their—hips, watching in a nearby reflective surface as the jiggle propagated in a wave of mesmerizing motion.
“Is this what she feels ALL THE TIME!” he whooped, his laughter echoing in the silent, stunned room. Inside, Keisha fought, a desperate mental push against a wall of overwhelming control. She tried to scream, to regain a muscle, but was pulled into Tai. She was no longer separate but now a part of Tai. Her body was no longer hers. It was now Taisha’s. And Taisha was thrilled.
possession
+7 more
6
8.5K
0
1
Stacey and her team are chosen to fight an alien invasion
It all started during what should’ve been just another grueling practice session under the sweltering Texas sun. Sweat stung my eyes, and my muscles screamed in protest with every high kick and flip. I was Stacey Robinson, head cheerleader of the Northwood Wildcats, and we were running the pyramid sequence for what felt like the hundredth time.
That’s when the sky tore open.
Not with a crack of thunder, but with a soft, shimmering hum. A light, gentle as a sunbeam, descended, and out stepped a figure that looked less like an alien invader and more like a yoga instructor from a high-end spa. He was tall, slender, with skin that shimmered like mother-of-pearl and eyes the color of a calm sea. He introduced himself as Nagai, an emissary from a distant star.
“Stacey Robinson,” he said, his voice like a melody. “Your world is in grave, albeit peculiar, danger.”
We all just stared, too shocked to even drop our pom-poms.
He explained that an ancient cosmic ruler, a being of immense vanity and twisted ideals, was approaching Earth. Her name was Queen Adiposa, and her goal was to impose her own standard of beauty upon the universe: to make fat not just acceptable, but the only form of beauty, eradicating all others. Her method? A wave of transformative energy, preceded by an army of minions who looked… well, like unnaturally enthusiastic Planet Fitness trainers in their purple and yellow uniforms, forever chanting about “no judgement.”
“Your spirit, your power, your unity,” Nagai said, his gaze sweeping over my team—Chloe, Hannah, Zoe, Maya, and Brianna. “You six are the only ones who can stop her. You will become my champions. The Supersonic Pussy Rangers.”
We glanced at each other. The name was ridiculous. The situation was insane. But the look in Nagai’s eyes was dead serious.
A wave of his hand, and a flash of light enveloped us. I felt a surge of power, a buzzing energy that settled deep in my core. When the light faded, we were all clad in skintight suits. Mine was a vibrant, commanding red. Chloe got pink, Hannah yellow, Zoe a deep purple, and Maya a cool aqua. And then there was Brianna.
Brianna, already the bustiest of us by a mile, was… naked. But not just naked. Her suit was a shimmering, barely-there layer of light that did nothing to conceal her incredible figure. Nagai hadn’t been kidding about the name. Her breasts were so magnificently large, so breathtakingly full, they truly looked like they could swallow a person’s head whole.
“Your power will manifest when you face your enemy,” Nagai said, just as the ground shook.
Our first monster arrived. It was a hulking beast made of what looked like lumpy, pink flesh, with a single massive eye and a microphone headset. It was flanked by a dozen of those smiling, clapping Planet Fitness minions. “Let’s get this party started! No lunkheads, just gains!” one of them chirped.
We fought. It was chaos. We moved with a speed and strength we never knew we had, our colored suits leaving streaks of light in the air. We kicked and punched, our movements synchronized from years of practice, now amplified into something superhuman. We finally took the monster down with a combined energy blast.
But it wasn’t over. The fallen monster began to glow, its body reassembling and swelling, growing taller and taller until it loomed over the school, a five-story tall abomination of jiggling fat and distorted fitness enthusiasm.
“Now, Stacey!” Nagai’s voice echoed in my mind. “It is time!”
A belt of gleaming silver and red, engraved with strange symbols, appeared in his hands. He tossed it to me. I caught it, and without thinking, I slapped it around my waist. A click, a hum, and then… silence.
The world froze. The monster was a statue mid-roar. The minions were frozen in their mindless clapping. My team hovered in the air around me, their eyes glazed over, caught in Nagai’s powerful stasis.
I was lifted into the air. Chloe (Pink) and Zoe (Purple) floated toward me in a dreamlike daze. My legs, guided by an unseen force, slipped into their open mouths. I felt no resistance, only a warm, incredible pressure as my feet slid down, down, coming to rest deep within their stomachs. It was the strangest, most intimate sensation I’d ever felt.
Next, Hannah (Yellow) and Maya (Aqua) drifted over. My arms entered them, sinking into their bodies through their backsides up to just below my elbows. Their legs unwound themselves and wrapped tightly around my torso, locking into place. I could feel the muscles in their thighs tense against my sides.
Finally, Brianna—Naked—floated toward my chest. She pressed against me, her incredible softness moulding to my form. She wrapped her arms and legs around my own, locking us together, and then let her head fall forward, completely vanishing between the immense, soft pillows of her own breasts, pressed firmly against my chest.
I dropped back to the ground, the impact jolting through me. I could feel Brianna’s body on my front, her breasts bouncing with the landing. I tentatively tried to move.
I thought, step forward.
The movement came, but it wasn’t just my leg. It was Chloe’s and then Zoe’s legs moving in perfect unison with me, their bodies moving as extensions of my own. I was controlling them. I was them. I lifted my arms, and saw Hannah and Maya’s arms mirror the movement perfectly.
“This is your Megazord form,” Nagai’s voice explained, sound returning to my private bubble of time. “You are the core. You command their bodies as your own limbs. They will remember none of this. To release them, you must defeat the enemy. When it is weakened, you must yell ‘FINISHER!’.”
I practiced. A step became a mighty stomp from four powerful legs. A punch became a devastating blow from four clenched fists. The power was dizzying. I felt the distinct sensations from each of my teammates—the sleek strength of Chloe, the flexible power of Zoe, the explosive energy of Hannah, the steady grace of Maya, and the overwhelming, soft warmth of Brianna pressed against me.
“Now, Stacey,” Nagai said. “Finish it.”
Time slammed back into motion with a roar.
The giant monster swung a fist the size of a car at me. I—we—blocked it with a forearm, the impact resonating through our combined bodies. We fought, a giantess of flesh and power against a monster of fat. We were faster, stronger, unified. With a series of powerful blows, we weakened it, until it staggered, dizzy and disoriented.
Now.
I took a deep breath, the motion causing Brianna’s chest to rise and fall against mine.
“FINISHER!” I yelled, my voice echoing with the combined power of six girls.
We leaped, a phenomenal jump that carried our combined form high into the air. We twisted, aiming ourselves downward. The monster looked up, its single eye wide with confusion.
We came down on its head, not on its body.
We landed perfectly, with the soft, warm heart of our formation—Brianna—coming to rest directly over the monster’s head. It let out a muffled, gurgled roar, its head completely smothered, suffocated between the immense, world-encompassing softness of her vagina. It struggled for a moment, then fell still, beginning to dissolve into harmless pink mist.
The belt on my waist clicked. The world dissolved in another flash of light, and I was standing alone, back in my red ranger suit. My team stood around me, blinking, stretching.
“Whoa, did we do it?” Chloe asked, looking at the fading pink mist. “I blacked out for a second there. What a rush!”
They remembered nothing. But I remembered everything. The feeling of their bodies as my own. The incredible, intimate power.
And I knew, with a thrilling certainty that shot right through me, that this was only the beginning. Queen Adiposa would send more monsters. And each time, we would combine. Each time, I would feel that connection, that control.
And each time, I would make my teammates more… mine.
It all started during what should’ve been just another grueling practice session under the sweltering Texas sun. Sweat stung my eyes, and my muscles screamed in protest with every high kick and flip. I was Stacey Robinson, head cheerleader of the Northwood Wildcats, and we were running the pyramid sequence for what felt like the hundredth time.
That’s when the sky tore open.
Not with a crack of thunder, but with a soft, shimmering hum. A light, gentle as a sunbeam, descended, and out stepped a figure that looked less like an alien invader and more like a yoga instructor from a high-end spa. He was tall, slender, with skin that shimmered like mother-of-pearl and eyes the color of a calm sea. He introduced himself as Nagai, an emissary from a distant star.
“Stacey Robinson,” he said, his voice like a melody. “Your world is in grave, albeit peculiar, danger.”
We all just stared, too shocked to even drop our pom-poms.
He explained that an ancient cosmic ruler, a being of immense vanity and twisted ideals, was approaching Earth. Her name was Queen Adiposa, and her goal was to impose her own standard of beauty upon the universe: to make fat not just acceptable, but the only form of beauty, eradicating all others. Her method? A wave of transformative energy, preceded by an army of minions who looked… well, like unnaturally enthusiastic Planet Fitness trainers in their purple and yellow uniforms, forever chanting about “no judgement.”
“Your spirit, your power, your unity,” Nagai said, his gaze sweeping over my team—Chloe, Hannah, Zoe, Maya, and Brianna. “You six are the only ones who can stop her. You will become my champions. The Supersonic Pussy Rangers.”
We glanced at each other. The name was ridiculous. The situation was insane. But the look in Nagai’s eyes was dead serious.
A wave of his hand, and a flash of light enveloped us. I felt a surge of power, a buzzing energy that settled deep in my core. When the light faded, we were all clad in skintight suits. Mine was a vibrant, commanding red. Chloe got pink, Hannah yellow, Zoe a deep purple, and Maya a cool aqua. And then there was Brianna.
Brianna, already the bustiest of us by a mile, was… naked. But not just naked. Her suit was a shimmering, barely-there layer of light that did nothing to conceal her incredible figure. Nagai hadn’t been kidding about the name. Her breasts were so magnificently large, so breathtakingly full, they truly looked like they could swallow a person’s head whole.
“Your power will manifest when you face your enemy,” Nagai said, just as the ground shook.
Our first monster arrived. It was a hulking beast made of what looked like lumpy, pink flesh, with a single massive eye and a microphone headset. It was flanked by a dozen of those smiling, clapping Planet Fitness minions. “Let’s get this party started! No lunkheads, just gains!” one of them chirped.
We fought. It was chaos. We moved with a speed and strength we never knew we had, our colored suits leaving streaks of light in the air. We kicked and punched, our movements synchronized from years of practice, now amplified into something superhuman. We finally took the monster down with a combined energy blast.
But it wasn’t over. The fallen monster began to glow, its body reassembling and swelling, growing taller and taller until it loomed over the school, a five-story tall abomination of jiggling fat and distorted fitness enthusiasm.
“Now, Stacey!” Nagai’s voice echoed in my mind. “It is time!”
A belt of gleaming silver and red, engraved with strange symbols, appeared in his hands. He tossed it to me. I caught it, and without thinking, I slapped it around my waist. A click, a hum, and then… silence.
The world froze. The monster was a statue mid-roar. The minions were frozen in their mindless clapping. My team hovered in the air around me, their eyes glazed over, caught in Nagai’s powerful stasis.
I was lifted into the air. Chloe (Pink) and Zoe (Purple) floated toward me in a dreamlike daze. My legs, guided by an unseen force, slipped into their open mouths. I felt no resistance, only a warm, incredible pressure as my feet slid down, down, coming to rest deep within their stomachs. It was the strangest, most intimate sensation I’d ever felt.
Next, Hannah (Yellow) and Maya (Aqua) drifted over. My arms entered them, sinking into their bodies through their backsides up to just below my elbows. Their legs unwound themselves and wrapped tightly around my torso, locking into place. I could feel the muscles in their thighs tense against my sides.
Finally, Brianna—Naked—floated toward my chest. She pressed against me, her incredible softness moulding to my form. She wrapped her arms and legs around my own, locking us together, and then let her head fall forward, completely vanishing between the immense, soft pillows of her own breasts, pressed firmly against my chest.
I dropped back to the ground, the impact jolting through me. I could feel Brianna’s body on my front, her breasts bouncing with the landing. I tentatively tried to move.
I thought, step forward.
The movement came, but it wasn’t just my leg. It was Chloe’s and then Zoe’s legs moving in perfect unison with me, their bodies moving as extensions of my own. I was controlling them. I was them. I lifted my arms, and saw Hannah and Maya’s arms mirror the movement perfectly.
“This is your Megazord form,” Nagai’s voice explained, sound returning to my private bubble of time. “You are the core. You command their bodies as your own limbs. They will remember none of this. To release them, you must defeat the enemy. When it is weakened, you must yell ‘FINISHER!’.”
I practiced. A step became a mighty stomp from four powerful legs. A punch became a devastating blow from four clenched fists. The power was dizzying. I felt the distinct sensations from each of my teammates—the sleek strength of Chloe, the flexible power of Zoe, the explosive energy of Hannah, the steady grace of Maya, and the overwhelming, soft warmth of Brianna pressed against me.
“Now, Stacey,” Nagai said. “Finish it.”
Time slammed back into motion with a roar.
The giant monster swung a fist the size of a car at me. I—we—blocked it with a forearm, the impact resonating through our combined bodies. We fought, a giantess of flesh and power against a monster of fat. We were faster, stronger, unified. With a series of powerful blows, we weakened it, until it staggered, dizzy and disoriented.
Now.
I took a deep breath, the motion causing Brianna’s chest to rise and fall against mine.
“FINISHER!” I yelled, my voice echoing with the combined power of six girls.
We leaped, a phenomenal jump that carried our combined form high into the air. We twisted, aiming ourselves downward. The monster looked up, its single eye wide with confusion.
We came down on its head, not on its body.
We landed perfectly, with the soft, warm heart of our formation—Brianna—coming to rest directly over the monster’s head. It let out a muffled, gurgled roar, its head completely smothered, suffocated between the immense, world-encompassing softness of her vagina. It struggled for a moment, then fell still, beginning to dissolve into harmless pink mist.
The belt on my waist clicked. The world dissolved in another flash of light, and I was standing alone, back in my red ranger suit. My team stood around me, blinking, stretching.
“Whoa, did we do it?” Chloe asked, looking at the fading pink mist. “I blacked out for a second there. What a rush!”
They remembered nothing. But I remembered everything. The feeling of their bodies as my own. The incredible, intimate power.
And I knew, with a thrilling certainty that shot right through me, that this was only the beginning. Queen Adiposa would send more monsters. And each time, we would combine. Each time, I would feel that connection, that control.
And each time, I would make my teammates more… mine.
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When Philip and Jack are given the challenge of going on a panty raid through the sorority next door to secure their place as pledges at Delta Epsilon, Philip's heart sinks.
With the sorority girls having already taken well known countermeasures to deal with any would be panty thieves, he thinks the chances of completing the challenge are near zero.
However, when his best friend Jack claims to have a plan involving a little magic and burrowing the bodies of his crush Vanessa and her roommate Katy, he knows he is in for a long night ahead when things don't exactly end up going to plan...
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 floor of Delta Epsilon’s house was sticky.
Beer, cheap cologne, and stale pizza had seeped into the carpet like a second skin, and Philip had the honor of scrubbing it clean while half a dozen brothers lounged on couches watching basketball highlights.
“Missed a spot,” one of them called, deliberately tilting a red Solo cup so that the last of his drink bled out onto the carpet inches from Philip’s sponge.
Philip clenched his jaw. He’d been degraded all semester, fetching fast food at three in the morning, running errands that skirted the edge of being criminal, serving as human furniture during drinking games. He told himself it would be worth it. Delta Epsilon’s parties were legendary, the kind of place girls lined up to get into. More importantly, alumni connections meant a shot at internships that led to real careers. You suffered now, you cashed in later.
Jack, naturally, thrived. He was perched on the arm of a sofa, balancing a tray of wings for two seniors, grinning like the humiliation was a party of its own.
“How’s that knee grease holding up, Phil?” he teased, eyebrows bouncing. Philip muttered something under his breath, pressing the sponge hard enough to leave his knuckles white. He’d thought pledging with his best friend would make things easier. Instead, Jack’s bottomless energy only made Philip feel like the boring one, always one step away from quitting.
The pledge master, Trent, finally called them over once the brothers had eaten their fill.
“You’ve made it further than many,” he said, addressing both Philip and Jack while tapping the ash off his cigar. “Scrubbing toilets, babysitting drunk brothers, taking whatever punishment we throw at you, you did it all without complaint. But Delta doesn’t hand out membership for free. There’s one last hurdle.”
Jack’s eyes lit up, while Philip felt his stomach knot. Trent leaned forward. “You’ve got until Saturday morning to bring us proof that you’re worthy of being Delta Epsilons. And by proof, I mean the underwear of one of the Theta sisters across the street.”
A ripple of laughter passed through the room. Someone whistled. Another shouted, “Better hope they’re lace!”
Philip’s face burned hot. He’d expected something brutal. A dangerous stunt, or maybe even a tattoo or branding, not…this. Not something that felt like the set-up to a police record for being a creep.
Jack, of course, grinned like he’d just been handed a golden ticket. “Piece of cake,” he said.
“Piece of felony,” Philip muttered.
Trent ignored the comment. “You get caught, that’s your problem. Theta girls are sick of pranks. They’ll eat you alive if they catch you sneaking around. Fail, and you’ll have to re-pledge next semester, if we even let you back in. Succeed, and you’ll be full brothers by sunrise.”
He flicked his cigar ash into an empty beer can, and the matter was closed. Philip and Jack were dismissed like servants, slipping out into the cool night air. The frat house behind them thumped with bass as the next round of drinking games began.
Across the street, the Theta house glowed with warm yellow light, its windows alive with the silhouettes of girls laughing, moving and living in a world that felt forbidden.
Philip shoved his hands into his hoodie pocket. “This is insane. They want us to break into a sorority house. Forget expulsion, that’s actual jail time if we’re caught and reported.”
Jack slung an arm around his shoulder, grinning as if he hadn’t heard a word. “Come on, man. It’s tradition. Everybody who ever wore Delta letters has done something crazy like this. We’ll figure it out. We always do.”
Philip shrugged him off. “You mean you’ll figure it out. And drag me with you.”
Jack’s grin widened. “Exactly. Don’t worry, I’ve got a plan.” That phrase, I’ve got a plan, was the single most dangerous thing Jack could say. Philip knew better, but as he stared up at the Theta house, he couldn’t shake the truth. They’d come too far to back out now.
Philip assumed Jack’s “plan” would be something stupid but doable. Like sneaking into the Theta laundry room, bribing a janitor, or maybe finessing a stolen bra from lost-and-found.
What he didn’t expect, as their deadline creeped ever closer, was Jack pulling a battered paperback out of his backpack like he’d just smuggled the Necronomicon out of the library and declaring their troubles were about to be a thing of the past.
“What is that?” Philip asked, eyeing the faded title embossed with moons and symbols.
“Wiccan Rites and Rituals of the Body,” Jack said with a grin so wide it could split his face. “This baby is going to get us in.”
Philip stared. “That’s not a plan you idiot. That’s…props from a bad horror movie.”
“Correction,” Jack said, flipping through pages until he landed on one marked with a sticky note. “It’s a possession spell. All we need is something personal from the Thetas. Hair is perfect. One strand, and we’re golden.”
Philip blinked. “Hair. You want us to pluck a strand off someone’s head, mix it into some potion, and what? Astral-project into their underwear drawer?”
Jack leaned forward, whispering even though there was nobody else around. “Exactly. But into them, not their underwear drawer.”
For a moment, Philip couldn’t even find words. His friend was dead serious. His blue eyes glittered with the manic light of a man who believed in his own insanity. Philip pinched the bridge of his nose. “Jack, you need help.”
“Correction again. We need help, and this is it. Think about it. We don’t sneak around, we don’t break and enter, we just become them. Walk right in the front door. Grab what we need and walk back out again. Easy as pie.”
Philip wanted to laugh. He wanted to tell Jack this was why pledges got expelled, why college urban legends started with two idiots reading a so-called spell book. But something about Jack’s certainty unsettled him.
“How do you even plan to get the hair?” Philip asked, deciding to humor him.
Jack smirked. “You’re partnered with Vanessa in chem lab. I’m with her roommate, Katy. Both of them happen to belong to the Theta Sorority. Boom. Easy.”
Philip’s stomach lurched. Vanessa, the Vanessa, the girl he’d spent the better part of a semester trying not to stare at. She was sharp, funny, gorgeous, and so out of his league it hurt. The idea of stealing a strand of her hair wasn’t just impossible, it was mortifying.
“Jack, if I even look at her hair the wrong way she’ll know. She’ll tell everyone. I’ll be branded as the campus creep for the rest of my life.”
Jack clapped him on the back. “Relax. I’ll take care of mine. You just…fumble your way through like usual. She likes you, right? I’m sure she’s called you sweet before. She won’t even notice.”
Lab that afternoon was a fluorescent blur of glassware and nerves. Bunsen burners hissed, and the sharp scent of acetone hung in the air. Vanessa tied her glossy black hair into a messy bun as she leaned over the counter, the soft hum she made under her breath cutting through the low chatter of other pairs.
Philip adjusted the clamp on their stand and tried to steady his hands, pretending to check the thermometer while sneaking a glance at her profile. The long lashes, the soft curve of her cheek when she smiled. He’d barely worked up the nerve to say something to her, when the door swung open and Ryan Hale strolled in.
Ryan wasn’t a student in their class, he was a teaching assistant who was busy with his Masters. The kind of nerd who looked more like he belonged in a movie poster than a chemistry lab. The Henry Cavill of the campus. Tall, effortlessly confident, his sleeves rolled to the elbow, showing forearms that probably did not belong to someone who spent his evenings doing titration reports.
“Need a hand, Vanessa?” he asked, his voice deep and smooth enough to make the words sound like an inside joke.
Vanessa’s whole face lit up. “Ryan! You’re still hanging around the underclassmen? I thought you were too cool for basic chem.”
“Guess I missed the fun crowd.” He winked, stepping close enough that Philip caught the faint smell of his cologne. Something woodsy and smug. Philip’s stomach twisted. He busied himself pretending to check their notes, but every word between Vanessa and Ryan pulled his focus like a hook through his ribs.
“Still showing off that perfect technique, huh?” Ryan teased, leaning an elbow on the counter. “Could use someone like you to calibrate my disastrous love life.”
Vanessa laughed, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I told you last time, you need better lab partners, not better lines.”
“Maybe I just need one who actually likes me,” he said, voice dipping into something low and knowing. “You still wearing that purple dress that makes everyone else forget the experiment?”
She grinned, shaking her head. “Keep talking, and you’ll set the sprinklers off again.”
Ryan chuckled, backing away with a little salute. “Worth it.”
Philip’s jaw locked so tight it hurt. He shifted his beaker just to make noise. “Vanessa, uh, the solution’s ready,” he muttered.
She turned back, still smiling, a faint pink on her cheeks. “Right, sorry, I got distracted.” The way she said it made Philip want to vanish into the nearest fume hood.
Ryan gave him a nod that felt more like dismissal. “Good work, man. Don’t let her boss you around too much.”
Philip forced a tight smile. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
When Ryan finally moved on to check another table, the tension in Philip’s shoulders eased only slightly. Vanessa was still smiling to herself, twirling her pencil between her fingers. “He’s such a dork,” she said fondly.
“Yeah,” Philip replied, voice flat. “A real geek.”
She glanced at him, oblivious. “You okay? You look kind of pale.”
“Fine,” he lied. His pulse thundered. He hated how obvious it felt. The jealousy, the ridiculous possessiveness over a girl who barely saw him as more than a partner for lab reports.
Meanwhile, across the room, Jack was all charm. Katy, tall, athletic, focused on the work at hand with cool intensity, rolled her eyes at his constant jokes, but she didn’t seem to actively hate him. Jack’s hands moved casually, as if the experiment was background noise to whatever ridiculous story he was spinning.
Philip’s heart pounded. He couldn’t do it. Not to Vanessa. The thought of deliberately stealing a piece of her felt worse than any frat punishment. But then her bun slipped, and a single strand drifted onto the lab bench.
Philip froze and stared at it like it was radioactive. One perfect strand, right there. All he had to do was pick it up without her noticing. His hand twitched. Sweat beaded at his hairline. Vanessa reached for the pipette, and he panicked. He grabbed the strand too quickly, shoving it into his pocket like a thief.
She glanced at him, puzzled. “You good?” she asked.
Philip’s laugh came out strangled. “Yeah. Totally. Fine. Just, science, you know?”
She gave him a strange look, then turned back to the experiment. Across the room, Jack caught his eye and subtly flashed a triumphant thumbs-up. He mouthed, Got it. Philip wanted to throw up.
After class, they met outside, ducking into a quiet corner near the library. Jack pulled a small plastic baggie from his pocket and wiggled it proudly. Katy’s strand of hair gleaming inside. Philip shoved his hands deep into his hoodie, where Vanessa’s strand burned against his palm like contraband.
“This is insane,” he muttered. “If she’d caught me, I’d have been ruined.”
Jack was practically buzzing. “But she didn’t. We’ve got everything. Today, we drink the potion. Tomorrow, we’re legends.”
Philip stared at him, feeling his chest tighten. It wasn’t the frat house that scared him anymore. It was Jack’s unwavering certainty, the gleam in his eye like he’d already crossed a line Philip couldn’t even see.
Back in their room, Jack had cleared his desk, pushing aside textbooks and laundry to make space for the battered paperback and a mess of supplies that looked like they’d been stolen from a Spirit Halloween clearance bin. Mason jars, candles, a bag of salt and something that Philip really, really hoped was red food coloring.
Philip sat on the bed, arms crossed, trying not to look at the plastic bag in his pocket. Inside was Vanessa’s hair, a single dark strand that felt heavier than lead.
“This is ridiculous,” he muttered. “You’re going to set off the fire alarm, and we’ll get kicked out before we even fail the pledge.”
Jack was hunched over the desk, tongue poking from the corner of his mouth as he measured powder into a chipped coffee mug.
“Correction. You’re going to stop being so negative, because we’re going to waltz into Theta’s house like we own it and take our time finding the perfect proof. Something small, sexy and lacy. Then we hand it to Trent and we’re done. Easiest initiation ever and we’re lifelong members of the Delta Epsilon brotherhood.”
Philip shook his head. “You actually believe all the crap coming out of your mouth, don’t you?”
“Yes. Because I know this is going to work.” Jack’s grin was feral. He held up his mug, fizzing with something dark and faintly purple. “And very soon, you’re going to have to swallow all your pessimistic, dismissive words and admit that I’m the GOAT.” Without waiting for a response, he dropped Katy’s wavy strand of hair into the concoction.
Philip looked at his own brew, waiting for him on the desk. It reeked faintly of vinegar and something metallic. “This looks like cough syrup that went bad.”
Jack grabbed the paperback, muttering words under his breath. Latin? Gibberish? Philip couldn’t tell. The candlelight threw shadows across Jack’s face, making him look more unhinged than usual.
“Jack,” Philip said slowly, “You get that if this doesn’t work, we may be drinking poison?”
“Trust me,” Jack said, gesturing meaningfully at Philip’s mug. Those two words had been the prelude to every disaster Philip had lived through with him. The broken window in high school. The near arrest in freshman year. And now this.
Philip sighed, pulled Vanessa’s hair from his pocket, and dropped it into the liquid. It curled and fizzed, dissolving into the mixture like it had never been.
“Bottoms up,” Jack said cheerfully, chugging the contents in one long pull.
Philip raised his mug. The liquid shimmered oddly, like heat ripples above asphalt. He pinched his nose and tossed it back. It burned. Like swallowing melted pennies chased with bleach. His stomach roiled instantly, bile rising up.
“Jesus Christ,” he choked, slamming the cup down. “That’s not magic, that’s battery acid.”
Jack wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, coughing hard, but his grin didn’t falter. “Wait for it.”
Philip blinked and the dorm room folded in on itself. Candlelight bent sideways and the next breath tasted like coffee and paper. He was not in their room anymore. He was sitting at a table under tall windows, late afternoon light spilling amber over open textbooks and half empty cups.
The scent was library quiet and caffeine. Hair slid across his cheek. Definitely not his. It was long and silky. His hands were smaller, nails pink, wrists delicate. The weight on his chest tugged when he breathed. He was looking through Vanessa’s eyes.
Across from him, Katy sat in a chair with a pen in her hand and her mouth parted in a quiet, startled sound that belonged to Jack. “Holy shit,” Jack whispered in Katy’s voice.
Philip’s pulse spiked. “How the hell did I get here?” he asked under his breath, before the realization hit him fully. Jack’s crazy plan worked. He glanced down, eyes bugging at the soft cleavage he encountered. He was on the verge of completely freaking out. “Keep it together,” he muttered to himself. The sound of Vanessa's voice only sent him spiraling further into chaos.
Jack’s grin curled slow and wicked as he looked down at himself and then around them. He started to pull the top of Katy’s tank forward so he could peek at her breasts, before Philip shot him a look that could choke a man at twenty paces.
“Don’t,” Philip hissed. “Katy would never do something like that in public!”
Jack laughed, high and breathy in Katy’s voice. “You’re telling me you’re not even curious? Come on, man. We’re in. This is unreal. Don’t you want to know what it feels like to them when we touch them?”
Philip swallowed hard, trying to calm himself. He gripped the edge of the table to keep himself from spiraling into sensory overload.
“This…this isn’t possible,” he whispered. But the evidence pressed in from every side. The scent of citrus shampoo in his hair, the tug of bra straps against his shoulders, the fullness in his chest when he inhaled. The emptiness where his cock should be.
Philip’s eyes darted anxiously around the library cafe. “We need to get out of here before someone notices something off,” Philip said. “People pick up on the smallest wrong note.” He was terrified that someone would realize the girls were possessed.
He spent way too much time staring at Vanessa, but that didn’t mean he could copy her actions. If anyone watched them closely, they’d know immediately that there were impostors inhabiting Vanessa and Katy.
“We should go back to their room and fool around,” Jack suggested immediately, hands on Katy’s breasts, squeezing idly.
“Jesus, Jack, stop that! They’re in public. We’re in public…”
This was such a mind-fuck. Clearly they were literally possessing Vanessa and Katy’s bodies. Where was Vanessa's consciousness now? Asleep? Aware? He didn’t feel like someone was watching him, so hopefully she had no idea what he was doing. And where were his and Jack’s bodies? Still in their dorm room? Fuck. If he’d known there was any chance of this working, he’d never have gone through with it.
“Come on bestie, let’s go home,” Jack cooed at him. “I’m just dying to get out of these pesky clothes.”
Jack clearly had zero second thoughts about any of this. Then again, Jack had never had a second thought in his life. He rarely had first ones. Philip decided that only made him a bigger idiot for always following his friend’s crazy plans.
Philip took a deep breath, gathered Vanessa’s things and slung her messenger bag over her shoulder before getting up on shaky legs. The plan was to reach Theta house without interacting with anyone who knew the girls.
Vanessa was outgoing and popular, so he kept his eyes trained on the ground to avoid any accidental socializing.
He was doing his best to focus on the mission, but every move betrayed him. Vanessa’s curves shifted differently from his own. Her hips swayed without permission when he walked. The tug of the denim skirt around her thighs was tighter than he was used to, the waistband sitting higher, the soft curtain of hair continuously falling into his eyes. And he kept fighting the urge to run his fingertips over her lustrous, satiny skin.
Philip thanked his lucky stars that it was late afternoon sliding toward evening and most of the Theta girls were either at dinner, in class, or busy with the mixer prep.
The second piece of good luck was the fact that the first year members of the sorority had the downstairs bedrooms and Katy and Vanessa had their names picked out in glittery wooden letters on their door. Which saved him and Jack from being caught wandering aimlessly into someone else’s room and rifling through their underwear.
“Come on,” he hissed at Jack, nearly having heart failure when he heard Vanessa’s sweet, bubbly voice, before remembering it came from his own mouth.
As soon as they entered the room, Philip froze like a deer in headlights.
The room smelled like them. A heady mix of perfume, make-up and detergent. Several photos of Vanessa and Katy were pinned to the notice board. Keys with a little Theta charm lay on a desk. Lip gloss on each bedside table. A folded flyer about the upcoming mixer. Every object made him feel like an intruder in a life that wasn’t his.
Then he looked up and saw his reflection thrown back at him from the floor length mirror fastened to the opposite wall. Vanessa stared back. Her round face framed by shiny black hair, lips glossed in pale pink, eyes wide with Philip’s panic.
“This isn’t possible,” he murmured hoarsely.
Jack crossed the room with Katy’s energetic stride, hair swinging over her shoulder. He leaned down, far too close, eyes alight with mischief.
“Possible or not, it’s happening. And we’ve got hours before it wears off. Wanna play?” Philip’s pulse thundered. He was in Vanessa’s body. Jack was in Katy’s. He had no idea what their real bodies were doing or where, only that they were not here. For the first time since pledging Delta, he realized he was more terrified of his best friend than of any frat brother.
Jack was practically bouncing around like a kid in a candy store, repeatedly mentioning how awesome it is to have tits.
“This is insane,” Philip muttered, running a hand through Vanessa’s long hair. The strands slipped through his fingers like silk, brushing the back of his neck, constantly in his peripheral vision. Every little tickle made him twitch. “I feel like I’m drowning in shampoo.”
Jack snorted. “Yeah. It’s fucking awesome. Look at this.” He shook his head, letting Katy’s long, dark hair fall over her shoulders, framing her face, then bit her lower lip between her teeth and winked at Philip seductively. “Tell me this doesn’t look hot.”
Philip turned away, but not before catching a glimpse of the curve of Katy’s collarbone, the tan line along her shoulder where a sports bra must’ve once sat. He gritted his teeth.
“We’re only here to grab underwear and then we get out. That’s it.” Jack made a distracted sound, which didn’t entirely sound like agreement.
He was testing everything. Squeezing Katy’s biceps and delighting in the subtle muscle definition, stretching out one long leg and flexing her calf muscles, even bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet as if testing how springy she was.
Philip was still focused on the reflection in the mirror. He stepped closer, and the image followed, familiar and foreign all at once. He raised a hand. She raised a hand. Jack appeared beside him, sliding Katy’s body into view. She was taller, leaner, her shoulders broader than Vanessa’s.
Katy was studious and fairly quiet normally, but Jack’s grin warped her into something hungry. A femme fatale in search of her next prey.
“Dude, look at us,” Jack whispered. “We actually pulled it off. We’re fucking hot!”
Philip swallowed, heat crawling up his neck. “We shouldn’t be looking. This is… it’s too much.”
“Too much fun,” Jack corrected. He pressed closer to the mirror, tilting Katy’s head, pursing her lips, sticking out her tongue just to see how it looked. He laughed in delight. “God, the way this mouth moves, it’s unreal.”
Philip tried to drag his eyes away, but curiosity betrayed him. His gaze dipped, catching sight of Vanessa’s chest in the reflection. The neckline of her shirt clung close, clearly showing the outline of her nipples. He bit the inside of his cheek and turned away sharply. He was not going to lift her top and take a peek.
“You’re staring,” Jack teased, slipping behind him and resting Katy’s hands on Vanessa’s hips.
Katy’s reflection loomed over Vanessa’s smaller frame in the mirror. “What’s it like, having the body of your crush? Bet you’ve fantasized about having unfettered access to her before. Touching every inch of her. Running your palms over her perky tits. Cupping her pussy.”
Philip’s face went hot. “Shut up.”
Jack leaned closer, his voice dropping, Katy’s lips brushing dangerously near Philip’s ear. “She’s soft, isn’t she? Curvy. Everything you imagined. And she’s right here. Aching to know what your hands would feel like sliding all over her.”
Philip’s breath caught. He could feel the warmth of Jack’s presence, the whisper of Katy’s hair brushing his cheek. He tried to step away, but Vanessa’s body didn’t obey with the same steadiness as his own.
His hip bumped the desk, throwing him off balance. Jack’s hand shot out, steadying him. Grabbing his hips instead of his arm. Philip stiffened. The pressure of Katy’s palm against Vanessa’s midriff was startling. A hot reminder that this wasn’t a joke anymore.
“Jack,” Philip said, voice low with warning. But Jack only grinned, tightening his grip slightly, fingertips sliding along the hem of Vanessa’s shirt, tickling the strip of skin underneath.
“Relax. We’ve got time before the potion wears off. Why waste it panicking when we could explore?”
Philip shoved his hand away, heart hammering too fast. “We came here for one reason. Don’t fuck this up with your usual bullshit.”
Jack backed off in mock surrender, leaning against the wall and raising Katy’s hands. “Fine, fine. You want to pass up a once in a lifetime opportunity by being a pussy, instead of playing with one, go ahead.”
Philip ignored him and pulled open one of the dresser drawers, coming face to face with the mother lode.
A mass of lace and cotton, bright colors and neutrals, G-strings and briefs and bras, all folded neatly in little piles. He fumbled, pulling out a pair at random, trying not to notice the little bow stitched along the waistband, or theorize about which of the girls it belonged to.
“Got it,” he muttered, stuffing it into his pocket. “We should leave and go and stash this somewhere so we can retrieve it when we’re us again.”
“Plenty of time for that. Are you seriously passing up the opportunity to find out what turns your crush on?”
Philip’s chest heaved, the bra beneath his shirt pinching tighter with the movement. Every tiny sensation was amplified in this shape. He had no idea girls had such sensitive bodies. If Vanessa's neck and shoulders were this responsive to stimuli, what about the more… delicate areas?
Jack leaned against the wall, watching his friend closely. Katy’s arms crossed under her breasts, pushing them up in a way that made Philip avert his eyes.
“You really think you can ignore this?” Jack asked softly. “Ignore her?”
Philip didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Because the truth was, even as he tried to ignore it, every nerve in Vanessa’s body was alive with a tingling feeling he couldn’t shut off.
He told himself he wouldn’t look at the mirror again. That he had the underwear and all that was left to do was wait for the potion to burn off. But every time he moved, Vanessa’s body reminded him he wasn’t himself. The way her thighs brushed together when he shifted his stance. The heat trapped in the curve between her breasts. The way her nipples tightened when she saw the way Katy stared at her. The sudden, sharp contraction of pleasure between her legs.
Each detail was louder than thought. And Jack wouldn’t fucking give him space to breathe.
“You’re wound too tight,” Jack murmured, stepping closer again. Katy’s taller body loomed behind him, all lean lines and toned strength. He set Katy’s hands on Vanessa's shoulders from behind, massaging with deliberate slowness.
“Loosen up.”
Philip froze. The sensation was alien. Slender fingers pressing into the slope of Vanessa’s shoulders, kneading muscle softer than his own. His back arched without meaning to, chest pushing forward. He could feel the heat in his panties and almost smell the pheromones in the air.
“Jack-”
“Shh.”
Katy’s breath ghosted over his ear, warm and taunting. “Allow her to feel it. Her body isn’t fighting me. She likes this.”
Philip hated the way heat rippled through him at the words. The way Vanessa’s nipples pebbled instantly, turning aching and hard beneath her bra when Jack’s thumbs kept sensually running across her muscles.
He tried to step away, but Jack’s grip on her waist drew her back. Katy’s chest pressed flush against Vanessa’s back. Firm breasts molding against soft skin. Philip gasped, a small, betraying sound.
“That’s it,” Jack whispered, lips brushing the shell of Vanessa's ear. “You feel that, don’t you? How different it is?”
Philip bit his lip hard. But it didn’t stop his body from reacting. His chest ached with sensitivity, every brush of fabric against his nipples sparking hot shivers. His hips shifted against Jack’s hold, searching without meaning to. His ass pressing back, almost expecting to feel an erect cock there, relaxing when all he encountered was softness.
Jack slid one hand lower, over Vanessa’s flat stomach, fingertips grazing the waist of her denim skirt. Philip’s pulse spiked. He could feel the shape of her body in ways he’d only imagined.
“God, you’re actually shaking,” Jack teased. He pressed his palm harder, dragging upward until he cupped one of Vanessa’s breasts through her shirt. His hand molded perfectly to the curve, fingers sinking in slightly before closing over the nipples and pinching.
Philip jolted like he’d been shocked. The pressure sent heat exploding through him. So much sharper than he ever imagined. A moan slipped out, broken and needy, before he could stop it. Jack laughed low, his voice a husky echo in Katy’s mouth.
“I knew it. You’re loving this.”
Philip shook his head, but his body betrayed him. Vanessa’s breasts were soft in his own hands when Jack pulled them into place, squeezing and kneading.
The ache in his chest spread downward, a molten restlessness that coiled between his legs, where there was no longer any familiar weight. Only a slick, sensitive heat that made his thighs tense. Jack leaned closer, kissing the side of Vanessa's neck.
Katy’s lips left tingling sparks against her skin. He gasped again, tilting his head back without meaning to, giving Jack room to explore.
“You always wanted to know what she felt like, didn’t you?” Jack murmured between kisses. “Now you do. Every inch. Every little twitch. If you ever get the chance, you could make her cum in minutes.”
Philip squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t want to want this. But Vanessa’s body was singing beneath his skin, her curves hypersensitive to every touch, every squeeze. When Jack dragged his hand lower, cupping the swell of her ass through denim, Philip’s knees went weak. He stumbled, and they tumbled together onto the nearest bed. Vanessa’s smaller frame pinned beneath Katy’s.
Jack landed on top, grinning down, hair falling in a dark curtain around their faces. “Just lie back and enjoy it,” he said, voice husky. “I’ll do all the work and you can take notes in your head.”
Katy’s hips pressed down, grinding just enough for Philip to feel the press of her pussy against Vanessa's. The pleasure nearly made him see stars. What would it feel like if Katy actually touched her clit? Dragged her tongue over it? Sucked it between those soft lips?
Philip whimpered, his hands trapped between them, pressed against the curves of Katy’s sides. He could feel the warmth of skin through fabric. Every nerve screamed with arousal. Jack leaned down, lips hovering over his.
“Tell me you don’t want this.”
Philip’s heart thundered. His lips parted, and he didn’t know if he was going to say I don’t or kiss Katy. His pulse roared in his ears. He could feel the weight of Vanessa’s chest rising and falling too fast, her heartbeat thundering in her ribs like a trapped animal.
Jack hovered over him, Katy’s taller frame caging him against the mattress, their borrowed hair spilling together in a curtain that smelled faintly of fruit.
“This isn’t funny anymore,” Philip rasped, but his voice cracked, betraying the tremor of arousal under the words.
Jack smirked. “I’m not joking.” He lowered Katy’s body until their breasts touched, brushing Katy’s peaked nipples against Vanessa’s rock hard ones. The friction alone made Philip gasp, heat shooting through him. It wasn’t like pressing chest-to-chest with another guy.
The give, the shape, the electric sting of nipples touching, every detail was overwhelming. He had no idea breasts were so receptive to the slightest touch. Vanessa's wasn’t even uncovered and they made him squirm.
“God,” he groaned before he could stop himself. Jack’s grin widened in satisfaction.
“Feels good, doesn’t it? Every touch goes both ways. You squeeze her,” He pressed Katy’s hand down onto one of Vanessa’s breasts, forcing Philip to feel it fully, “And you are her.”
Philip arched into the contact despite himself. His hands moved up without any conscious thought. The weight of her breast in his palm, the nipple reacting instantly under his touch, each tiny spark flooded through him in a way his male body never reacted to anything but pressure on his cock.
He kneaded once, twice, and heat surged low in his stomach, between his thighs, turning his panties damp. His back bowed off the mattress, mouth falling open in a helpless sound.
Jack kissed him then. Katy’s mouth grazing Vanessa's jaw, the corner of her mouth, teasing as it moved around.
Every brush of her sweet lips left a wet, burning mark. Philip turned away, breathless, but Jack followed, biting gently at Vanessa’s neck until Philip gasped.
His thighs clenched hard. Something slick and molten was spreading there, pulsing with every beat of his heart. He could feel the absence, the soft, tender heat where his cock would usually be straining.
The pressure of denim against it only sharpened the ache. He needed Jack to touch Vanessa's pussy. He needed pressure. Jack ground down lightly and Philip bucked up helplessly, his own hands gripping Katy’s hips tight, chasing the friction he’d die without.
“Stop,” he panted, but the word broke halfway, turning into a moan. Jack chuckled low.
“Your body doesn’t want me to stop.” He kissed Vanessa again. Her lips plump, glossy, trembling beneath Katy’s teasing press. Philip’s breath hitched and his tongue flicked nervously against the edge of his teeth.
Every nerve screamed to close the distance, to taste what it felt like to kiss as a girl, to be kissed as a girl. Jack deepened the grind of their hips. Philip’s breath hitched sharply, a helpless whimper leaving his throat.
Heat surged through his belly, down his thighs, the ache between his legs swelling into a throbbing need. He arched against Katy, nails digging into her waist. There’s no way he was going to be able to say no. Jack had to make him cum.
Jack pulled back slightly, asking with twinkling eyes, “Shall we see how good Katy is at eating pussy?”
Philip knew what his answer should be, but his entire body was throbbing, yes yes yes.
Their mouths hovered a fraction apart, breaths mingling. The world narrowed to that single point of contact waiting to happen. Philip’s lips parted, ready, needy.
“Vanessa? Katy?” The voice cut through the fog like a blade, followed by the rap of knuckles on the door.
Philip’s eyes flew wide. Jack froze above him, both of them panting hard. “Vanessa, Katy!” another girl called from the hall. “We need you for the final discussions for tonight’s mixer!”
Silence. Only their ragged breaths, the hot press of bodies still locked together. Jack swore under his breath, rolling off Vanessa reluctantly.
“Just when things were about to get really good.”
Philip scrambled upright, Vanessa’s hair tangling in his face, chest heaving, nipples still hard and aching. He shoved shaky hands through the strands, trying to compose himself, though the slick heat between his thighs throbbed in open defiance.
He knew they should have kept their heads. If they let curiosity drag them off course they would blow the whole point of the night. The spell would end when it wanted and they had no idea when that would be.
Another knock. “Come on, you two! Hurry up! Megan saw you get in earlier, I know you’re in there.”
Jack smirked, tugging Katy’s tank top straight as if they hadn’t just been seconds from fucking each other into oblivion.
“Guess there’s more fun ahead. Don’t think you’re off the hook though, I’m still going to eat that pussy later and I fully expect to get repaid in kind.”
Philip sat frozen, heart still hammering, his mind spinning so fast he worried he might throw up.
With the sorority girls having already taken well known countermeasures to deal with any would be panty thieves, he thinks the chances of completing the challenge are near zero.
However, when his best friend Jack claims to have a plan involving a little magic and burrowing the bodies of his crush Vanessa and her roommate Katy, he knows he is in for a long night ahead when things don't exactly end up going to plan...
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 floor of Delta Epsilon’s house was sticky.
Beer, cheap cologne, and stale pizza had seeped into the carpet like a second skin, and Philip had the honor of scrubbing it clean while half a dozen brothers lounged on couches watching basketball highlights.
“Missed a spot,” one of them called, deliberately tilting a red Solo cup so that the last of his drink bled out onto the carpet inches from Philip’s sponge.
Philip clenched his jaw. He’d been degraded all semester, fetching fast food at three in the morning, running errands that skirted the edge of being criminal, serving as human furniture during drinking games. He told himself it would be worth it. Delta Epsilon’s parties were legendary, the kind of place girls lined up to get into. More importantly, alumni connections meant a shot at internships that led to real careers. You suffered now, you cashed in later.
Jack, naturally, thrived. He was perched on the arm of a sofa, balancing a tray of wings for two seniors, grinning like the humiliation was a party of its own.
“How’s that knee grease holding up, Phil?” he teased, eyebrows bouncing. Philip muttered something under his breath, pressing the sponge hard enough to leave his knuckles white. He’d thought pledging with his best friend would make things easier. Instead, Jack’s bottomless energy only made Philip feel like the boring one, always one step away from quitting.
The pledge master, Trent, finally called them over once the brothers had eaten their fill.
“You’ve made it further than many,” he said, addressing both Philip and Jack while tapping the ash off his cigar. “Scrubbing toilets, babysitting drunk brothers, taking whatever punishment we throw at you, you did it all without complaint. But Delta doesn’t hand out membership for free. There’s one last hurdle.”
Jack’s eyes lit up, while Philip felt his stomach knot. Trent leaned forward. “You’ve got until Saturday morning to bring us proof that you’re worthy of being Delta Epsilons. And by proof, I mean the underwear of one of the Theta sisters across the street.”
A ripple of laughter passed through the room. Someone whistled. Another shouted, “Better hope they’re lace!”
Philip’s face burned hot. He’d expected something brutal. A dangerous stunt, or maybe even a tattoo or branding, not…this. Not something that felt like the set-up to a police record for being a creep.
Jack, of course, grinned like he’d just been handed a golden ticket. “Piece of cake,” he said.
“Piece of felony,” Philip muttered.
Trent ignored the comment. “You get caught, that’s your problem. Theta girls are sick of pranks. They’ll eat you alive if they catch you sneaking around. Fail, and you’ll have to re-pledge next semester, if we even let you back in. Succeed, and you’ll be full brothers by sunrise.”
He flicked his cigar ash into an empty beer can, and the matter was closed. Philip and Jack were dismissed like servants, slipping out into the cool night air. The frat house behind them thumped with bass as the next round of drinking games began.
Across the street, the Theta house glowed with warm yellow light, its windows alive with the silhouettes of girls laughing, moving and living in a world that felt forbidden.
Philip shoved his hands into his hoodie pocket. “This is insane. They want us to break into a sorority house. Forget expulsion, that’s actual jail time if we’re caught and reported.”
Jack slung an arm around his shoulder, grinning as if he hadn’t heard a word. “Come on, man. It’s tradition. Everybody who ever wore Delta letters has done something crazy like this. We’ll figure it out. We always do.”
Philip shrugged him off. “You mean you’ll figure it out. And drag me with you.”
Jack’s grin widened. “Exactly. Don’t worry, I’ve got a plan.” That phrase, I’ve got a plan, was the single most dangerous thing Jack could say. Philip knew better, but as he stared up at the Theta house, he couldn’t shake the truth. They’d come too far to back out now.
Philip assumed Jack’s “plan” would be something stupid but doable. Like sneaking into the Theta laundry room, bribing a janitor, or maybe finessing a stolen bra from lost-and-found.
What he didn’t expect, as their deadline creeped ever closer, was Jack pulling a battered paperback out of his backpack like he’d just smuggled the Necronomicon out of the library and declaring their troubles were about to be a thing of the past.
“What is that?” Philip asked, eyeing the faded title embossed with moons and symbols.
“Wiccan Rites and Rituals of the Body,” Jack said with a grin so wide it could split his face. “This baby is going to get us in.”
Philip stared. “That’s not a plan you idiot. That’s…props from a bad horror movie.”
“Correction,” Jack said, flipping through pages until he landed on one marked with a sticky note. “It’s a possession spell. All we need is something personal from the Thetas. Hair is perfect. One strand, and we’re golden.”
Philip blinked. “Hair. You want us to pluck a strand off someone’s head, mix it into some potion, and what? Astral-project into their underwear drawer?”
Jack leaned forward, whispering even though there was nobody else around. “Exactly. But into them, not their underwear drawer.”
For a moment, Philip couldn’t even find words. His friend was dead serious. His blue eyes glittered with the manic light of a man who believed in his own insanity. Philip pinched the bridge of his nose. “Jack, you need help.”
“Correction again. We need help, and this is it. Think about it. We don’t sneak around, we don’t break and enter, we just become them. Walk right in the front door. Grab what we need and walk back out again. Easy as pie.”
Philip wanted to laugh. He wanted to tell Jack this was why pledges got expelled, why college urban legends started with two idiots reading a so-called spell book. But something about Jack’s certainty unsettled him.
“How do you even plan to get the hair?” Philip asked, deciding to humor him.
Jack smirked. “You’re partnered with Vanessa in chem lab. I’m with her roommate, Katy. Both of them happen to belong to the Theta Sorority. Boom. Easy.”
Philip’s stomach lurched. Vanessa, the Vanessa, the girl he’d spent the better part of a semester trying not to stare at. She was sharp, funny, gorgeous, and so out of his league it hurt. The idea of stealing a strand of her hair wasn’t just impossible, it was mortifying.
“Jack, if I even look at her hair the wrong way she’ll know. She’ll tell everyone. I’ll be branded as the campus creep for the rest of my life.”
Jack clapped him on the back. “Relax. I’ll take care of mine. You just…fumble your way through like usual. She likes you, right? I’m sure she’s called you sweet before. She won’t even notice.”
Lab that afternoon was a fluorescent blur of glassware and nerves. Bunsen burners hissed, and the sharp scent of acetone hung in the air. Vanessa tied her glossy black hair into a messy bun as she leaned over the counter, the soft hum she made under her breath cutting through the low chatter of other pairs.
Philip adjusted the clamp on their stand and tried to steady his hands, pretending to check the thermometer while sneaking a glance at her profile. The long lashes, the soft curve of her cheek when she smiled. He’d barely worked up the nerve to say something to her, when the door swung open and Ryan Hale strolled in.
Ryan wasn’t a student in their class, he was a teaching assistant who was busy with his Masters. The kind of nerd who looked more like he belonged in a movie poster than a chemistry lab. The Henry Cavill of the campus. Tall, effortlessly confident, his sleeves rolled to the elbow, showing forearms that probably did not belong to someone who spent his evenings doing titration reports.
“Need a hand, Vanessa?” he asked, his voice deep and smooth enough to make the words sound like an inside joke.
Vanessa’s whole face lit up. “Ryan! You’re still hanging around the underclassmen? I thought you were too cool for basic chem.”
“Guess I missed the fun crowd.” He winked, stepping close enough that Philip caught the faint smell of his cologne. Something woodsy and smug. Philip’s stomach twisted. He busied himself pretending to check their notes, but every word between Vanessa and Ryan pulled his focus like a hook through his ribs.
“Still showing off that perfect technique, huh?” Ryan teased, leaning an elbow on the counter. “Could use someone like you to calibrate my disastrous love life.”
Vanessa laughed, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I told you last time, you need better lab partners, not better lines.”
“Maybe I just need one who actually likes me,” he said, voice dipping into something low and knowing. “You still wearing that purple dress that makes everyone else forget the experiment?”
She grinned, shaking her head. “Keep talking, and you’ll set the sprinklers off again.”
Ryan chuckled, backing away with a little salute. “Worth it.”
Philip’s jaw locked so tight it hurt. He shifted his beaker just to make noise. “Vanessa, uh, the solution’s ready,” he muttered.
She turned back, still smiling, a faint pink on her cheeks. “Right, sorry, I got distracted.” The way she said it made Philip want to vanish into the nearest fume hood.
Ryan gave him a nod that felt more like dismissal. “Good work, man. Don’t let her boss you around too much.”
Philip forced a tight smile. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
When Ryan finally moved on to check another table, the tension in Philip’s shoulders eased only slightly. Vanessa was still smiling to herself, twirling her pencil between her fingers. “He’s such a dork,” she said fondly.
“Yeah,” Philip replied, voice flat. “A real geek.”
She glanced at him, oblivious. “You okay? You look kind of pale.”
“Fine,” he lied. His pulse thundered. He hated how obvious it felt. The jealousy, the ridiculous possessiveness over a girl who barely saw him as more than a partner for lab reports.
Meanwhile, across the room, Jack was all charm. Katy, tall, athletic, focused on the work at hand with cool intensity, rolled her eyes at his constant jokes, but she didn’t seem to actively hate him. Jack’s hands moved casually, as if the experiment was background noise to whatever ridiculous story he was spinning.
Philip’s heart pounded. He couldn’t do it. Not to Vanessa. The thought of deliberately stealing a piece of her felt worse than any frat punishment. But then her bun slipped, and a single strand drifted onto the lab bench.
Philip froze and stared at it like it was radioactive. One perfect strand, right there. All he had to do was pick it up without her noticing. His hand twitched. Sweat beaded at his hairline. Vanessa reached for the pipette, and he panicked. He grabbed the strand too quickly, shoving it into his pocket like a thief.
She glanced at him, puzzled. “You good?” she asked.
Philip’s laugh came out strangled. “Yeah. Totally. Fine. Just, science, you know?”
She gave him a strange look, then turned back to the experiment. Across the room, Jack caught his eye and subtly flashed a triumphant thumbs-up. He mouthed, Got it. Philip wanted to throw up.
After class, they met outside, ducking into a quiet corner near the library. Jack pulled a small plastic baggie from his pocket and wiggled it proudly. Katy’s strand of hair gleaming inside. Philip shoved his hands deep into his hoodie, where Vanessa’s strand burned against his palm like contraband.
“This is insane,” he muttered. “If she’d caught me, I’d have been ruined.”
Jack was practically buzzing. “But she didn’t. We’ve got everything. Today, we drink the potion. Tomorrow, we’re legends.”
Philip stared at him, feeling his chest tighten. It wasn’t the frat house that scared him anymore. It was Jack’s unwavering certainty, the gleam in his eye like he’d already crossed a line Philip couldn’t even see.
Back in their room, Jack had cleared his desk, pushing aside textbooks and laundry to make space for the battered paperback and a mess of supplies that looked like they’d been stolen from a Spirit Halloween clearance bin. Mason jars, candles, a bag of salt and something that Philip really, really hoped was red food coloring.
Philip sat on the bed, arms crossed, trying not to look at the plastic bag in his pocket. Inside was Vanessa’s hair, a single dark strand that felt heavier than lead.
“This is ridiculous,” he muttered. “You’re going to set off the fire alarm, and we’ll get kicked out before we even fail the pledge.”
Jack was hunched over the desk, tongue poking from the corner of his mouth as he measured powder into a chipped coffee mug.
“Correction. You’re going to stop being so negative, because we’re going to waltz into Theta’s house like we own it and take our time finding the perfect proof. Something small, sexy and lacy. Then we hand it to Trent and we’re done. Easiest initiation ever and we’re lifelong members of the Delta Epsilon brotherhood.”
Philip shook his head. “You actually believe all the crap coming out of your mouth, don’t you?”
“Yes. Because I know this is going to work.” Jack’s grin was feral. He held up his mug, fizzing with something dark and faintly purple. “And very soon, you’re going to have to swallow all your pessimistic, dismissive words and admit that I’m the GOAT.” Without waiting for a response, he dropped Katy’s wavy strand of hair into the concoction.
Philip looked at his own brew, waiting for him on the desk. It reeked faintly of vinegar and something metallic. “This looks like cough syrup that went bad.”
Jack grabbed the paperback, muttering words under his breath. Latin? Gibberish? Philip couldn’t tell. The candlelight threw shadows across Jack’s face, making him look more unhinged than usual.
“Jack,” Philip said slowly, “You get that if this doesn’t work, we may be drinking poison?”
“Trust me,” Jack said, gesturing meaningfully at Philip’s mug. Those two words had been the prelude to every disaster Philip had lived through with him. The broken window in high school. The near arrest in freshman year. And now this.
Philip sighed, pulled Vanessa’s hair from his pocket, and dropped it into the liquid. It curled and fizzed, dissolving into the mixture like it had never been.
“Bottoms up,” Jack said cheerfully, chugging the contents in one long pull.
Philip raised his mug. The liquid shimmered oddly, like heat ripples above asphalt. He pinched his nose and tossed it back. It burned. Like swallowing melted pennies chased with bleach. His stomach roiled instantly, bile rising up.
“Jesus Christ,” he choked, slamming the cup down. “That’s not magic, that’s battery acid.”
Jack wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, coughing hard, but his grin didn’t falter. “Wait for it.”
Philip blinked and the dorm room folded in on itself. Candlelight bent sideways and the next breath tasted like coffee and paper. He was not in their room anymore. He was sitting at a table under tall windows, late afternoon light spilling amber over open textbooks and half empty cups.
The scent was library quiet and caffeine. Hair slid across his cheek. Definitely not his. It was long and silky. His hands were smaller, nails pink, wrists delicate. The weight on his chest tugged when he breathed. He was looking through Vanessa’s eyes.
Across from him, Katy sat in a chair with a pen in her hand and her mouth parted in a quiet, startled sound that belonged to Jack. “Holy shit,” Jack whispered in Katy’s voice.
Philip’s pulse spiked. “How the hell did I get here?” he asked under his breath, before the realization hit him fully. Jack’s crazy plan worked. He glanced down, eyes bugging at the soft cleavage he encountered. He was on the verge of completely freaking out. “Keep it together,” he muttered to himself. The sound of Vanessa's voice only sent him spiraling further into chaos.
Jack’s grin curled slow and wicked as he looked down at himself and then around them. He started to pull the top of Katy’s tank forward so he could peek at her breasts, before Philip shot him a look that could choke a man at twenty paces.
“Don’t,” Philip hissed. “Katy would never do something like that in public!”
Jack laughed, high and breathy in Katy’s voice. “You’re telling me you’re not even curious? Come on, man. We’re in. This is unreal. Don’t you want to know what it feels like to them when we touch them?”
Philip swallowed hard, trying to calm himself. He gripped the edge of the table to keep himself from spiraling into sensory overload.
“This…this isn’t possible,” he whispered. But the evidence pressed in from every side. The scent of citrus shampoo in his hair, the tug of bra straps against his shoulders, the fullness in his chest when he inhaled. The emptiness where his cock should be.
Philip’s eyes darted anxiously around the library cafe. “We need to get out of here before someone notices something off,” Philip said. “People pick up on the smallest wrong note.” He was terrified that someone would realize the girls were possessed.
He spent way too much time staring at Vanessa, but that didn’t mean he could copy her actions. If anyone watched them closely, they’d know immediately that there were impostors inhabiting Vanessa and Katy.
“We should go back to their room and fool around,” Jack suggested immediately, hands on Katy’s breasts, squeezing idly.
“Jesus, Jack, stop that! They’re in public. We’re in public…”
This was such a mind-fuck. Clearly they were literally possessing Vanessa and Katy’s bodies. Where was Vanessa's consciousness now? Asleep? Aware? He didn’t feel like someone was watching him, so hopefully she had no idea what he was doing. And where were his and Jack’s bodies? Still in their dorm room? Fuck. If he’d known there was any chance of this working, he’d never have gone through with it.
“Come on bestie, let’s go home,” Jack cooed at him. “I’m just dying to get out of these pesky clothes.”
Jack clearly had zero second thoughts about any of this. Then again, Jack had never had a second thought in his life. He rarely had first ones. Philip decided that only made him a bigger idiot for always following his friend’s crazy plans.
Philip took a deep breath, gathered Vanessa’s things and slung her messenger bag over her shoulder before getting up on shaky legs. The plan was to reach Theta house without interacting with anyone who knew the girls.
Vanessa was outgoing and popular, so he kept his eyes trained on the ground to avoid any accidental socializing.
He was doing his best to focus on the mission, but every move betrayed him. Vanessa’s curves shifted differently from his own. Her hips swayed without permission when he walked. The tug of the denim skirt around her thighs was tighter than he was used to, the waistband sitting higher, the soft curtain of hair continuously falling into his eyes. And he kept fighting the urge to run his fingertips over her lustrous, satiny skin.
Philip thanked his lucky stars that it was late afternoon sliding toward evening and most of the Theta girls were either at dinner, in class, or busy with the mixer prep.
The second piece of good luck was the fact that the first year members of the sorority had the downstairs bedrooms and Katy and Vanessa had their names picked out in glittery wooden letters on their door. Which saved him and Jack from being caught wandering aimlessly into someone else’s room and rifling through their underwear.
“Come on,” he hissed at Jack, nearly having heart failure when he heard Vanessa’s sweet, bubbly voice, before remembering it came from his own mouth.
As soon as they entered the room, Philip froze like a deer in headlights.
The room smelled like them. A heady mix of perfume, make-up and detergent. Several photos of Vanessa and Katy were pinned to the notice board. Keys with a little Theta charm lay on a desk. Lip gloss on each bedside table. A folded flyer about the upcoming mixer. Every object made him feel like an intruder in a life that wasn’t his.
Then he looked up and saw his reflection thrown back at him from the floor length mirror fastened to the opposite wall. Vanessa stared back. Her round face framed by shiny black hair, lips glossed in pale pink, eyes wide with Philip’s panic.
“This isn’t possible,” he murmured hoarsely.
Jack crossed the room with Katy’s energetic stride, hair swinging over her shoulder. He leaned down, far too close, eyes alight with mischief.
“Possible or not, it’s happening. And we’ve got hours before it wears off. Wanna play?” Philip’s pulse thundered. He was in Vanessa’s body. Jack was in Katy’s. He had no idea what their real bodies were doing or where, only that they were not here. For the first time since pledging Delta, he realized he was more terrified of his best friend than of any frat brother.
Jack was practically bouncing around like a kid in a candy store, repeatedly mentioning how awesome it is to have tits.
“This is insane,” Philip muttered, running a hand through Vanessa’s long hair. The strands slipped through his fingers like silk, brushing the back of his neck, constantly in his peripheral vision. Every little tickle made him twitch. “I feel like I’m drowning in shampoo.”
Jack snorted. “Yeah. It’s fucking awesome. Look at this.” He shook his head, letting Katy’s long, dark hair fall over her shoulders, framing her face, then bit her lower lip between her teeth and winked at Philip seductively. “Tell me this doesn’t look hot.”
Philip turned away, but not before catching a glimpse of the curve of Katy’s collarbone, the tan line along her shoulder where a sports bra must’ve once sat. He gritted his teeth.
“We’re only here to grab underwear and then we get out. That’s it.” Jack made a distracted sound, which didn’t entirely sound like agreement.
He was testing everything. Squeezing Katy’s biceps and delighting in the subtle muscle definition, stretching out one long leg and flexing her calf muscles, even bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet as if testing how springy she was.
Philip was still focused on the reflection in the mirror. He stepped closer, and the image followed, familiar and foreign all at once. He raised a hand. She raised a hand. Jack appeared beside him, sliding Katy’s body into view. She was taller, leaner, her shoulders broader than Vanessa’s.
Katy was studious and fairly quiet normally, but Jack’s grin warped her into something hungry. A femme fatale in search of her next prey.
“Dude, look at us,” Jack whispered. “We actually pulled it off. We’re fucking hot!”
Philip swallowed, heat crawling up his neck. “We shouldn’t be looking. This is… it’s too much.”
“Too much fun,” Jack corrected. He pressed closer to the mirror, tilting Katy’s head, pursing her lips, sticking out her tongue just to see how it looked. He laughed in delight. “God, the way this mouth moves, it’s unreal.”
Philip tried to drag his eyes away, but curiosity betrayed him. His gaze dipped, catching sight of Vanessa’s chest in the reflection. The neckline of her shirt clung close, clearly showing the outline of her nipples. He bit the inside of his cheek and turned away sharply. He was not going to lift her top and take a peek.
“You’re staring,” Jack teased, slipping behind him and resting Katy’s hands on Vanessa’s hips.
Katy’s reflection loomed over Vanessa’s smaller frame in the mirror. “What’s it like, having the body of your crush? Bet you’ve fantasized about having unfettered access to her before. Touching every inch of her. Running your palms over her perky tits. Cupping her pussy.”
Philip’s face went hot. “Shut up.”
Jack leaned closer, his voice dropping, Katy’s lips brushing dangerously near Philip’s ear. “She’s soft, isn’t she? Curvy. Everything you imagined. And she’s right here. Aching to know what your hands would feel like sliding all over her.”
Philip’s breath caught. He could feel the warmth of Jack’s presence, the whisper of Katy’s hair brushing his cheek. He tried to step away, but Vanessa’s body didn’t obey with the same steadiness as his own.
His hip bumped the desk, throwing him off balance. Jack’s hand shot out, steadying him. Grabbing his hips instead of his arm. Philip stiffened. The pressure of Katy’s palm against Vanessa’s midriff was startling. A hot reminder that this wasn’t a joke anymore.
“Jack,” Philip said, voice low with warning. But Jack only grinned, tightening his grip slightly, fingertips sliding along the hem of Vanessa’s shirt, tickling the strip of skin underneath.
“Relax. We’ve got time before the potion wears off. Why waste it panicking when we could explore?”
Philip shoved his hand away, heart hammering too fast. “We came here for one reason. Don’t fuck this up with your usual bullshit.”
Jack backed off in mock surrender, leaning against the wall and raising Katy’s hands. “Fine, fine. You want to pass up a once in a lifetime opportunity by being a pussy, instead of playing with one, go ahead.”
Philip ignored him and pulled open one of the dresser drawers, coming face to face with the mother lode.
A mass of lace and cotton, bright colors and neutrals, G-strings and briefs and bras, all folded neatly in little piles. He fumbled, pulling out a pair at random, trying not to notice the little bow stitched along the waistband, or theorize about which of the girls it belonged to.
“Got it,” he muttered, stuffing it into his pocket. “We should leave and go and stash this somewhere so we can retrieve it when we’re us again.”
“Plenty of time for that. Are you seriously passing up the opportunity to find out what turns your crush on?”
Philip’s chest heaved, the bra beneath his shirt pinching tighter with the movement. Every tiny sensation was amplified in this shape. He had no idea girls had such sensitive bodies. If Vanessa's neck and shoulders were this responsive to stimuli, what about the more… delicate areas?
Jack leaned against the wall, watching his friend closely. Katy’s arms crossed under her breasts, pushing them up in a way that made Philip avert his eyes.
“You really think you can ignore this?” Jack asked softly. “Ignore her?”
Philip didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Because the truth was, even as he tried to ignore it, every nerve in Vanessa’s body was alive with a tingling feeling he couldn’t shut off.
He told himself he wouldn’t look at the mirror again. That he had the underwear and all that was left to do was wait for the potion to burn off. But every time he moved, Vanessa’s body reminded him he wasn’t himself. The way her thighs brushed together when he shifted his stance. The heat trapped in the curve between her breasts. The way her nipples tightened when she saw the way Katy stared at her. The sudden, sharp contraction of pleasure between her legs.
Each detail was louder than thought. And Jack wouldn’t fucking give him space to breathe.
“You’re wound too tight,” Jack murmured, stepping closer again. Katy’s taller body loomed behind him, all lean lines and toned strength. He set Katy’s hands on Vanessa's shoulders from behind, massaging with deliberate slowness.
“Loosen up.”
Philip froze. The sensation was alien. Slender fingers pressing into the slope of Vanessa’s shoulders, kneading muscle softer than his own. His back arched without meaning to, chest pushing forward. He could feel the heat in his panties and almost smell the pheromones in the air.
“Jack-”
“Shh.”
Katy’s breath ghosted over his ear, warm and taunting. “Allow her to feel it. Her body isn’t fighting me. She likes this.”
Philip hated the way heat rippled through him at the words. The way Vanessa’s nipples pebbled instantly, turning aching and hard beneath her bra when Jack’s thumbs kept sensually running across her muscles.
He tried to step away, but Jack’s grip on her waist drew her back. Katy’s chest pressed flush against Vanessa’s back. Firm breasts molding against soft skin. Philip gasped, a small, betraying sound.
“That’s it,” Jack whispered, lips brushing the shell of Vanessa's ear. “You feel that, don’t you? How different it is?”
Philip bit his lip hard. But it didn’t stop his body from reacting. His chest ached with sensitivity, every brush of fabric against his nipples sparking hot shivers. His hips shifted against Jack’s hold, searching without meaning to. His ass pressing back, almost expecting to feel an erect cock there, relaxing when all he encountered was softness.
Jack slid one hand lower, over Vanessa’s flat stomach, fingertips grazing the waist of her denim skirt. Philip’s pulse spiked. He could feel the shape of her body in ways he’d only imagined.
“God, you’re actually shaking,” Jack teased. He pressed his palm harder, dragging upward until he cupped one of Vanessa’s breasts through her shirt. His hand molded perfectly to the curve, fingers sinking in slightly before closing over the nipples and pinching.
Philip jolted like he’d been shocked. The pressure sent heat exploding through him. So much sharper than he ever imagined. A moan slipped out, broken and needy, before he could stop it. Jack laughed low, his voice a husky echo in Katy’s mouth.
“I knew it. You’re loving this.”
Philip shook his head, but his body betrayed him. Vanessa’s breasts were soft in his own hands when Jack pulled them into place, squeezing and kneading.
The ache in his chest spread downward, a molten restlessness that coiled between his legs, where there was no longer any familiar weight. Only a slick, sensitive heat that made his thighs tense. Jack leaned closer, kissing the side of Vanessa's neck.
Katy’s lips left tingling sparks against her skin. He gasped again, tilting his head back without meaning to, giving Jack room to explore.
“You always wanted to know what she felt like, didn’t you?” Jack murmured between kisses. “Now you do. Every inch. Every little twitch. If you ever get the chance, you could make her cum in minutes.”
Philip squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t want to want this. But Vanessa’s body was singing beneath his skin, her curves hypersensitive to every touch, every squeeze. When Jack dragged his hand lower, cupping the swell of her ass through denim, Philip’s knees went weak. He stumbled, and they tumbled together onto the nearest bed. Vanessa’s smaller frame pinned beneath Katy’s.
Jack landed on top, grinning down, hair falling in a dark curtain around their faces. “Just lie back and enjoy it,” he said, voice husky. “I’ll do all the work and you can take notes in your head.”
Katy’s hips pressed down, grinding just enough for Philip to feel the press of her pussy against Vanessa's. The pleasure nearly made him see stars. What would it feel like if Katy actually touched her clit? Dragged her tongue over it? Sucked it between those soft lips?
Philip whimpered, his hands trapped between them, pressed against the curves of Katy’s sides. He could feel the warmth of skin through fabric. Every nerve screamed with arousal. Jack leaned down, lips hovering over his.
“Tell me you don’t want this.”
Philip’s heart thundered. His lips parted, and he didn’t know if he was going to say I don’t or kiss Katy. His pulse roared in his ears. He could feel the weight of Vanessa’s chest rising and falling too fast, her heartbeat thundering in her ribs like a trapped animal.
Jack hovered over him, Katy’s taller frame caging him against the mattress, their borrowed hair spilling together in a curtain that smelled faintly of fruit.
“This isn’t funny anymore,” Philip rasped, but his voice cracked, betraying the tremor of arousal under the words.
Jack smirked. “I’m not joking.” He lowered Katy’s body until their breasts touched, brushing Katy’s peaked nipples against Vanessa’s rock hard ones. The friction alone made Philip gasp, heat shooting through him. It wasn’t like pressing chest-to-chest with another guy.
The give, the shape, the electric sting of nipples touching, every detail was overwhelming. He had no idea breasts were so receptive to the slightest touch. Vanessa's wasn’t even uncovered and they made him squirm.
“God,” he groaned before he could stop himself. Jack’s grin widened in satisfaction.
“Feels good, doesn’t it? Every touch goes both ways. You squeeze her,” He pressed Katy’s hand down onto one of Vanessa’s breasts, forcing Philip to feel it fully, “And you are her.”
Philip arched into the contact despite himself. His hands moved up without any conscious thought. The weight of her breast in his palm, the nipple reacting instantly under his touch, each tiny spark flooded through him in a way his male body never reacted to anything but pressure on his cock.
He kneaded once, twice, and heat surged low in his stomach, between his thighs, turning his panties damp. His back bowed off the mattress, mouth falling open in a helpless sound.
Jack kissed him then. Katy’s mouth grazing Vanessa's jaw, the corner of her mouth, teasing as it moved around.
Every brush of her sweet lips left a wet, burning mark. Philip turned away, breathless, but Jack followed, biting gently at Vanessa’s neck until Philip gasped.
His thighs clenched hard. Something slick and molten was spreading there, pulsing with every beat of his heart. He could feel the absence, the soft, tender heat where his cock would usually be straining.
The pressure of denim against it only sharpened the ache. He needed Jack to touch Vanessa's pussy. He needed pressure. Jack ground down lightly and Philip bucked up helplessly, his own hands gripping Katy’s hips tight, chasing the friction he’d die without.
“Stop,” he panted, but the word broke halfway, turning into a moan. Jack chuckled low.
“Your body doesn’t want me to stop.” He kissed Vanessa again. Her lips plump, glossy, trembling beneath Katy’s teasing press. Philip’s breath hitched and his tongue flicked nervously against the edge of his teeth.
Every nerve screamed to close the distance, to taste what it felt like to kiss as a girl, to be kissed as a girl. Jack deepened the grind of their hips. Philip’s breath hitched sharply, a helpless whimper leaving his throat.
Heat surged through his belly, down his thighs, the ache between his legs swelling into a throbbing need. He arched against Katy, nails digging into her waist. There’s no way he was going to be able to say no. Jack had to make him cum.
Jack pulled back slightly, asking with twinkling eyes, “Shall we see how good Katy is at eating pussy?”
Philip knew what his answer should be, but his entire body was throbbing, yes yes yes.
Their mouths hovered a fraction apart, breaths mingling. The world narrowed to that single point of contact waiting to happen. Philip’s lips parted, ready, needy.
“Vanessa? Katy?” The voice cut through the fog like a blade, followed by the rap of knuckles on the door.
Philip’s eyes flew wide. Jack froze above him, both of them panting hard. “Vanessa, Katy!” another girl called from the hall. “We need you for the final discussions for tonight’s mixer!”
Silence. Only their ragged breaths, the hot press of bodies still locked together. Jack swore under his breath, rolling off Vanessa reluctantly.
“Just when things were about to get really good.”
Philip scrambled upright, Vanessa’s hair tangling in his face, chest heaving, nipples still hard and aching. He shoved shaky hands through the strands, trying to compose himself, though the slick heat between his thighs throbbed in open defiance.
He knew they should have kept their heads. If they let curiosity drag them off course they would blow the whole point of the night. The spell would end when it wanted and they had no idea when that would be.
Another knock. “Come on, you two! Hurry up! Megan saw you get in earlier, I know you’re in there.”
Jack smirked, tugging Katy’s tank top straight as if they hadn’t just been seconds from fucking each other into oblivion.
“Guess there’s more fun ahead. Don’t think you’re off the hook though, I’m still going to eat that pussy later and I fully expect to get repaid in kind.”
Philip sat frozen, heart still hammering, his mind spinning so fast he worried he might throw up.
mtf
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A story of the Unseen and Forgotten
Chapter One: The Summoning
The runes on the stone floor flared to life as the last drop of my blood sizzled against the ancient symbols. The air thickened, smelling of burnt copper and something impossibly sweet—her scent, though I didn’t know it yet.
Then, like sunlight breaking through a storm, she appeared.
The elf princess stood naked in the circle, her skin the color of twilight, long silver hair cascading down her back like liquid moonlight. Pointed ears twitched in alarm as those luminous green eyes locked onto me, wide with dawning terror.
"Human," she hissed, voice like wind through autumn leaves. "What have you done?"
I licked my lips, my pulse hammering. The spell was supposed to be simple: summon, contain, consume. I needed her body. Her power. All of her.
But gods, I hadn’t expected her to be so... alive.
The binding circle held, the magic searing into her ankles when she tried to step forward. "Release me!" she demanded, but the words trembled.
"No," I said, stepping closer. "You don’t understand. I’m not letting you out." My fingers hovered just beyond the barrier, aching to touch. "I’m letting in."
Her breath hitched as realization struck—this wasn’t a kidnapping.
It was a trade.
The second part of the spell pulsed through my veins, a dark, hungry weight spreading through my chest. I could feel it, the rip between our souls, the way her essence strained against mine like silk caught on thorns.
"Stop!" she gasped, but it was too late. My vision blurred—no, doubled—and then—
---
You assimilate her soul into yours so completely, that you become her entirely. Now other magic will see you as her.
---
Chapter Two: The Devouring
Her scream tore through the chamber as the spell’s teeth sank in—not into flesh, but deeper. Into her.
I felt it the moment the first thread of her soul unraveled, silken and electric, sliding into me like honeyed fire. Her knees buckled, but the circle held her upright, her body trembling as I drank her in.
Mine.
Her memories flickered behind my eyes—endless forests, the weight of a crown, the whisper of wind against bare skin. The taste of starlight on her tongue. I groaned, fingers digging into my own arms as her essence coiled around mine, merging, melting.
"No—no, stop—" Her voice was weaker now, a fading echo. "You can’t—"
"I can," I whispered—and then her voice spilled from my lips.
Her gasp was my gasp. Her shudder, mine. The circle’s light pulsed, and I watched, dizzy, as my hands—no, hers—rose between us, slender and moon-pale. My reflection shimmered in her wide eyes: her face, her lips parting in a ragged breath.
The last resistance snapped.
Her body collapsed, empty, as her soul dissolved into me with a final, shuddering sigh. I staggered, clutching my—her—chest, feeling the wild drum of her heart. My heart.
The magic settled like a second skin.
I ran trembling fingers down my new body—the curve of my hips, the points of my ears, the slick heat between my thighs. A laugh bubbled up, high and musical—her laugh—as I turned toward the mirror.
The elf princess stared back.
And she smiled.
---
Your run your hand sover your generous curves as you explore your body.
---
Chapter Three: Awakening the Stolen Flesh
My fingers trailed down the slope of my throat, marveling at the silken texture of new skin. The elf princess’s body was perfect—each curve sculpted by grace, each breath a whisper of untouched sensuality. I let out a slow exhale, my—her—lips parting as I brushed my fingertips over a peaked nipple.
A shiver raced through me.
“Gods…” The word slipped out in her voice, sweet and musical, laced with my own dark amusement. My other hand slid lower, fingers tracing the dip of my waist, the flare of my hips. No clothes. None needed. Elves saw no shame in flesh, and now, neither did I.
I turned toward the cracked mirror propped against the chamber wall, watching myself—her—move with liquid elegance. The swell of my breasts, the pale pink of my nipples, the way my waist narrowed invitingly before flaring into luscious hips and toned thighs. I bit her lower lip, arousal tightening low in my stomach.
Mine.
Experimentally, I let a finger drag down my stomach, lower, lower—until I reached the delicate heat between my thighs. A sharp gasp escaped me at the first brush of contact. So sensitive.
The princess had been untouched. I wouldn’t be.
I sank to my knees, refusing to look away from my reflection as my fingers delved deeper, parting soft folds, reveling in the slickness already gathering there. Every touch sent sparks through my stolen nerves. My back arched, silver hair falling over my shoulders as pleasure coiled tighter—
Then the door rattled.
---
"Lynna, we came to save you." Her personal knight/handmaiden says. "You mother felt the dark magic that took you away."
---
Chapter Four: The Deception Begins
The voice was like tempered steel—fierce, loyal, and oh-so-fragile in its concern. My fingers stilled, but I didn’t pull away. Not yet. Through lowered lashes, I watched the door creak open to reveal the intruder.
A warrior woman stood framed in the dim light, clad in supple leather armor that hugged her toned form, her dark braid slung over one shoulder. A longsword was strapped to her hip, but her amber eyes held no threat—only devotion. Her knight.
Handmaiden. Protector. Lover?
The princess’s memories surged up in answer—Valria. Always at my side. Always watching… always wanting. A smirk curled my lips. Interesting.
I let my legs slide wider, just a fraction, watching her gaze flicker down before snapping back up, her cheeks darkening. Caught you.
“L-Lynna,” Valria stammered, her usual discipline cracking. “Your mother felt the disturbance. She sent me to—are you—?” Her throat worked as I trailed a lazy finger back up my thigh.
“To save me?” I sighed, leaning back on my palms, letting the torchlight play over every bare inch of Lynna’s stolen body. “From what, exactly?”
Valria’s sword hand twitched, torn between drawing steel and touching. Oh, she’s been wanting. The princess’s memories whispered of stolen glances, of heated silences, of chances never taken.
“You’re… unharmed?” Valria breathed, stepping closer.
“Come see for yourself.” I tilted my head, letting my voice drip with Lynna’s sweetness—but laced with something darker. Something mine.
---
"This sad little human,'" you say pointing at your old body, "thought he could enslave me. Unfortunately as part of his plan, I have been cursed with lust."
---
Chapter Five: A Curse Worth Keeping
A slow, wicked smile curled her—my—lips as I gestured dismissively at the lifeless husk sprawled on the stone floor. My old body. Pathetic. Empty.
Valria’s gaze darted between me and the corpse, her warrior’s instincts clashing with something far more personal. “A—lust curse?” she repeated, her voice thick.
I arched my back, letting my silver hair spill over my shoulders like molten moonlight, my lithe form sprawled shamelessly before her. “Mmm. A terrible affliction.” I dragged my fingers down my collarbone, tracing the curve of my breast, delighting in the way Valria’s breath hitched. “I need constant relief. A devoted handmaiden might need to… attend me.”
Her sword clattered to the ground.
The sound was delicious. I stretched, letting my thighs part just enough to tease, watching her pupils swallow the amber of her eyes.
“You—you’re serious?” Valria whispered.
“Do I look like I’m in jest?” I purred, tilting my hips up in invitation. “The curse is quite insistent.” I bit my lower lip, letting a needy whimper escape. “Unless you’d rather I suffer?”
Valria moved without thinking—the loyal knight always rushing to her princess’s aid. But this time, when her hands closed around my waist, it wasn’t to protect.
It was to claim.
(Would you like to explore Valria’s “treatment” of the curse in detail, or would you prefer to fast-forward to the throne room, where Queen Ashera awaits her “daughter’s” return?)
---
Explore the "treatment"
---
Chapter Six: The Knight's Devotion
Valria’s hands trembled against my waist—warm, calloused, so unlike the softness she now touched. The scent of leather and steel clung to her, mixing with the heady sweetness of my new body’s arousal.
She couldn’t resist.
And I? I reveled in it.
“Tell me what to do,” she rasped, her voice rough with barely checked hunger.
I laced my fingers behind my head, stretching languidly beneath her gaze. “You’re the knight sworn to serve your princess,” I murmured, arching a teasing brow. “Surely you can… deduce what’s needed.”
A growl rumbled from her throat. Then her mouth crashed down on mine.
Her kiss was untamed, possessive—years of pent-up longing poured into a single searing touch. I moaned into her lips, twining my arms around her neck, pulling her harder against me. Her armor bit into my skin, but the pain only sharpened the pleasure.
Yes.
She tore her mouth away, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down my throat. “Lynna,” she panted against my pulse. “Gods, I’ve wanted—”
I dug my nails into her shoulders. “Show me.”
Valria needed no further encouragement.
Would you prefer a fade-to-black here, or a deeper dive into the “treatment” on the stone floor?
---
Continue the "treatment"
---
Chapter Six: The Knight's Devotion (Continued)
Valria's sword-calloused hands mapped every inch of my stolen body with rough reverence, her lips leaving burning trails across my collarbone. I arched against her, my back lifting off the cold stone as her teeth grazed one peaked nipple.
"All these years," she growled against my skin, "watching you walk through court bare as the dawn..." Her hand slid between my thighs, fingers parting slick folds. "Knowing I had to remain... proper..."
I moaned, wrapping my legs around her waist. "Not proper now," I gasped as two thick fingers plunged deep without warning. My head fell back with a cry, back arching. The princess's body was untouched, every sensation heightened - I felt every ridge of her gauntlet, every shift of her wrist as she began a relentless rhythm.
"Look at you," Valria breathed, watching me writhe beneath her. "Like starlight in my hands." Her thumb found that perfect little bundle of nerves and pressed hard, just as her fingers curled just so inside me.
White heat exploded behind my eyes. The princess's body convulsed, clamping down as I came with a scream that echoed off the chamber walls, pleasure so intense it bordered on pain. Valria's free hand muffled my cries with rough kisses as she worked me through the aftershocks.
"You're not done," she murmured when my breathing finally steadied. "Not until this curse is properly satisfied." In one fluid motion, she flipped me onto my stomach, my bare chest scraping against the stone floor. "And I intend to be very thorough."
(Would you like to explore Valria claiming her princess more completely, or reveal the growing darkness in Lynna's stolen eyes as she begins corrupting her knight's devotion?)
---
The claiming
---
Chapter Seven: The Knight's Submission
Her palm came down on the curve of my bare backside with a sharp crack that echoed through the chamber. I gasped, pleasure-pain lighting up nerves that had never been touched this way before. The princess might have been noble, untouchable—but I was remaking her into something far more interesting.
Valria’s fingers tangled in my silver hair, yanking my head back as her other hand slid around my waist, fingers dipping between my thighs from behind. “You’re shaking,” she murmured against my ear, her voice thick with dark satisfaction. “Is the mighty princess overwhelmed?”
I laughed—low, throaty, Lynna’s voice but mine, holding a hunger the real princess never could have summoned. “Hardly.” I pressed back against her, feeling the hard leather of her armor against my bare skin. “Unless my brave knight is frightened of a little curse?”
A growl rumbled through her chest.
Then she was on me.
Her armor clattered to the floor, piece by piece, until nothing but sweat-slick skin separated us. The weight of her pressed me into the stone, the heat of her body searing against my back. I bit my lip as her hand slid down again, fingers slipping inside me with none of the hesitation she’d shown before.
Good girl. She moved inside me with relentless focus, her other arm locking around my waist, holding me flush against her. I could feel her own need, the hard press of her thigh between mine, the way her breath hitched when I rocked back against her.
“You think you’re saving me, don’t you?” I panted, my fingers curling against the unforgiving stone.
Valria didn’t answer—not with words. Instead, her free hand found my hips, gripping hard enough to bruise, pulling me onto her fingers with every thrust. The slap of skin against skin filled the room, mingling with our gasps, my moans.
Then—her teeth sank into my shoulder.
Fuck.
Pleasure fractured through me, sharp and blinding. My body convulsed around her fingers, back arching, a scream spilling free as wave after wave tore through me. Valria held me through it, her touch turning almost tender as she slowed, dragging out the last sweet pulses of sensation.
When I finally sagged against the floor, boneless and spent, she leaned over me. “Better?” she murmured, breath hot against my ear.
I turned my head, catching her lips in a slow, filthy kiss. “For now.” My fingers traced her jaw. “But curses like this… they linger.”
Valria’s eyes darkened—with hunger, with something deeper. Something dangerous.
I grinned.
Perfect.
(Will you savor your dominance over Valria, or begin your return to court—where the real fun begins? Or perhaps the Queen’s seers have already sensed something amiss with her “daughter”…?)
---
You kiss Valria and assimilate her soul as well.
---
Chapter Eight: Claiming the Knight
The moment our lips met again, I didn’t just kiss her—I opened myself to the deepest magic humming beneath my stolen flesh. Valria gasped against my mouth as she felt it too—the dark, shimmering pull, the same hungry presence that had devoured the original Lynna whole.
Mine.
She tried to wrench back, but my hand tangled in her hair, holding her close as my other palm pressed against the racing pulse at her throat. Her eyes went wide as the first thread of her essence unraveled, her memories pouring into me—years of silent devotion, stolen glances in the royal baths, restless nights imagining this moment but never like this—
"P-Princess—" Her voice was already fading, her body slackening against mine.
"Shhh," I murmured against her lips, drinking her in. "No more waiting."
I felt the exact second she disappeared—her gasp, her fingers clawing at my arms one last time, then... stillness. Her body slumped against me, empty, as her soul folded seamlessly into mine.
Then—movement.
I flexed her fingers, rolled her shoulders, felt the coiled strength in her warrior’s body. When I opened her eyes, I saw myself—Lynna’s body, sprawled beautifully across the stone floor, watching me with a smirk.
Two minds. Two bodies. One will.
I—she—reached out, running a hand down my bare chest. "Mmm," Valria’s voice purred, raspier than before. "This could be... fun."
(Will you return to court with your twin selves? Unleash your shared hunger on the unsuspecting elven nobles? Or will the queen’s mages notice the void where two souls once burned?)
---
"Princess, now that the curse is broken, we should return home."
---
Chapter Nine: The Return
"My lady?" Valria's voice—my voice now—carried the same disciplined cadence as before, but there was a new undercurrent to it. A shared amusement, a knowing. "The Queen will be waiting."
I rose from the stones slowly, stretching Lynna's sinuous body, letting the dim light catch every perfect curve. My old body lay discarded in the corner—a withered husk, forgotten. I didn't need it anymore.
We didn't.
Valria—my Valria—stepped forward, offering a hand. The faintest smirk played at her lips, the only hint of the truth beneath. To any outsider, she was the same steadfast knight, sworn to protect her princess. But I could feel the hunger coiled inside her, the same dark current that pulsed through me.
"Of course," I murmured, taking her hand. Our fingers interlaced, and for a moment, the sensation was dizzying—touching myself through another's flesh. "Let's not keep Mother waiting."
The throne room would be our next stage. The court, our feast.
After all, who better to deceive a queen than her own beloved daughter?
(Does the Queen sense the deception? Or does something even darker await in the palace shadows? A third voice, perhaps, whispering in the empty spaces where the stolen souls once burned...?)
---
You return and play the role of princess
---
Chapter Ten: A Perfect Performance
The palace gates loomed before us, their silver-etched arches gleaming in the moonlight. At my side, Valria stood as dutiful as ever. But beneath the illusion of her unwavering loyalty, I could feel her—myself—smirking.
"Remember," I murmured through our shared thoughts, keeping my eyes downcast in the perfect portrayal of the gentle princess. "No matter what happens... we remain flawless."
The great doors swung open. The court gasped.
"Lynna!" Queen Ashera rose from her throne, her moon-pale robes cascading around her like liquid starlight. She moved with the same ethereal grace I now possessed—had stolen—her silver hair a mirror of mine. No, not mine. Hers.
I let my lip tremble—just slightly—before rushing into her outstretched arms. "Mother," I breathed, burying my face in the crook of her neck. Warm. Familiar. Wrong.
She smelled like jasmine and winter air, a scent the princess's memories immediately recognized. Home. Safety.
But the moment her fingers brushed my back, a shiver ran through me.
Cold.
Not the chill of stone or shadow. No—this was the deep, piercing cold of magic. Like fingers tracing along the edges of a soul.
Did she know?
Beside me, Valria stiffened imperceptibly.
The Queen pulled back, her violet eyes searching mine. Something flickered in their depths—suspicion? Concern?
"Darling," she murmured, thumb brushing my cheek. "What really happened in that tower?"
I let my eyes glisten with unshed tears.
---
"The human who summoned me was trying to enslave me to make me his, he had just cursed me with Lust and was trying to transfer his soul into my body when my dear Valria showed up and killed him mid spell."
---
Chapter Eleven: The Queen's Gaze
A single tear slipped down my cheek—Lynna's cheek—as I spun the lie with practiced perfection. The Queen's fingers tightened ever so slightly on my shoulders, her violet eyes darkening like storm clouds.
"His soul... into your body?" Her voice was a whisper, but the undercurrent of fury sent a delicious shiver through me.
I nodded, letting my lower lip quiver. "He—he wanted to wear me, Mother. Like a dress." My fingers clutched at her sleeves, trembling. The perfect picture of violated innocence.
Behind me, Valria stepped forward, her voice rough with feigned rage. "I cut him down before he could finish the spell, Your Majesty. But the curse..." She hesitated, just enough to sell the shame. "It lingers."
The Queen's gaze flicked between us, her expression unreadable. Then—
A slow, chilling smile curled her lips.
"Is that so?"
Her hand slid from my shoulder to my wrist, her grip suddenly iron. The moment her magic pulsed against my skin, I felt it—the searching, the knowing.
She wasn't checking for a curse.
She was checking for me.
(Does the Queen embrace the predator wearing her daughter's skin—or does she reveal she's been playing this game far longer than you have?)
---
"I would speak to my daughter and her knight alone. Court is dismissed for the day." The queen says.
Once alone, "Alright thief, I recognize the dark magic you used as my old teacher's. My daughter and her knight/handmaiden are both you now, I can't change that. Even now, knowing the truth my detection spells sense nothing wrong with either of you. Its impressive that you could translate het notes but you must not have done so fully, as those who now to look can see my teacher's brand etched into your soul."
---
Chapter Twelve: The Queen's Bargain
The throne room doors sealed shut with a whisper of ancient magic. The Queen did not sit—she loomed, her violet eyes alight with something far more dangerous than anger.
Amusement.
"So," she murmured, stepping closer, her moon-pale robes pooling around her like liquid starlight. "You dug up Amaranth's work. Tell me, thief—did her notes mention the price of such magic?"
I kept Lynna's face carefully blank, but inside, my stolen pulse quickened.
The Queen circled us, her fingers trailing over Valria's armored shoulder before brushing Lynna's cheek. "Her brand burns in your soul like a beacon to those who know where to look." A chuckle, low and velvet-dark. "And you walked it right into my court."
I could feel it now—the searing signature coiled beneath my stolen flesh, a mark I hadn't known to hide. Amaranth's brand.
The Queen's smile sharpened. "Here's what happens next. You will kneel. You will swear fealty. And in return..." Her nails grazed my bottom lip. "I will teach you how to survive what you've become."
(Do you submit to the Queen's terms, or does the predator in you rear its head—risking everything for the chance to claim a third royal body?)
---
"Ah but mother, a princess most never never before another except their lover. You told me those words on my 16th winter after I bowed to the human ambassador."
---
Chapter Thirteen: The Silent War of Eyes
The Queen went very still.
For the first time since my arrival, something flickered across her elegant face—not fury, not calculation.
Recognition.
Her daughter’s words, thrown back at her with the perfect cadence, the exact same lilt of innocent rebellion Lynna had wielded that day. I watched as the Queen’s throat moved subtly, the barest hesitation.
Does she doubt herself now?
Lynna’s body was mine. Valria’s was mine. Every stolen memory, every intimate detail—all folded neatly into the hollow of my being. The princess would have said this. She had said this.
The Queen stepped back. Just half a pace. But it was enough.
“Clever thief,” she murmured, her voice softer now. "But you forget—I trained with Amaranth too."
Her hand shot out, seizing my wrist, her magic lancing into me like white-hot wire. I gasped—not from pain, but from the sheer violence of her probe. She wasn’t searching for flaws in my disguise anymore.
She was counting them.
And in her eyes, reflected back at me—
She was impressed.
(Will the Queen’s fascination with your power outweigh her wrath? Or is this the moment she reveals her own darkness runs far deeper than yours?)
---
"Mother, how about this arrangement. I remain your loving daughter and her loyal knight, I won't try and take your soul in exchange you help me understand this spell. I will remain loyal to kingdom."
---
Chapter Fourteen: The Pact
The Queen’s fingers tightened around my wrist—not painfully, but possessively. Her violet eyes, sharp as honed steel, locked onto mine.
A slow, knowing smile curled her lips.
“Loyalty,” she mused, her voice dropping to a whisper. “From a thief who wears my daughter’s flesh like a second skin?”
I tilted Lynna’s head just so, letting the dim light catch the silver of her—my—hair. “Is it theft… if I improve what I’ve taken?”
Her breath hitched.
The throne room was silent save for the soft rustle of her robes as she stepped closer, her free hand rising to trace the edge of my jaw.
“You are dangerous,” she murmured—not a condemnation, but a compliment.
Then she leaned in, her lips brushing my ear.
“And so am I.”
A pulse of magic passed between us—not hostile, but binding.
“Very well, daughter,” she breathed, pulling back with a smirk. “We have an accord.”
(Will the Queen’s teachings unlock new depths of your power? Or does her “guidance” come with hooks beneath the silk—threads of control even you haven’t sensed yet?)
---
You have your other self hand your mother your translation. "This is what I was able to to figure and all there was. Your bastard was cunning, she mixed languages to change meaning. Just to translate that fragment, I had to learn old elvish, Draconic, Old Common, Ancient Dwarvish, Ancient Beastfolk and old Celestial plus what I can only assume was a cipher language she invented."
---
Chapter Fifteen: The Queen’s Legacy
The Queen’s fingers traced the brittle pages of my—our—translated notes, her sharp eyes flickering between languages, decoding the layers of deceit her old master had woven. Slowly, a sound escaped her.
Not a sigh.
A laugh.
“Oh, Amaranth,” she murmured, shaking her head with something perilously close to fondness. “You paranoid old witch.” Her nail tapped a line of jagged glyphs—Old Dwarvish, but twisted, inverted. “She didn’t just hide the spell. She salted it. Half these instructions would have blown your soul apart if you’d followed them blindly.”
My stolen pulse quickened. Lynna’s throat tightened.
The Queen glanced up, her smile sharp as a dagger’s edge. “Lucky for you… I know her tricks.”She closed the book with a snap.
“Tell me, thief. Have you ever danced with three souls in one skin?”
(Will you trust the Queen’s tutelage, knowing she made the monster you stole from? Or will you unearth the dark secret tucked beneath the fragments—the one even she might not see coming?)
---
"No, I finished translating that and tried it on your daughter when I summoned her. I added Valria after having some fun with her, because she is my knight and handmaiden, she would be around me day and night and would have noticed the change."
---
Chapter Sixteen: The Queen’s Gambit
The Queen went utterly still.
For a breathless moment, the only sound in the throne room was the whisper of parchment settling against silk. Then—
A laugh.
Low. Rich. Dangerous.
“Oh, you delightful creature,” she purred, stepping closer, her fingers trailing along the edge of the spellbook. “You didn’t just steal my daughter’s body. You perfected her.” Her gaze flicked to Valria—me—standing silent and poised at my side. “And then you took her knight for good measure.”
She leaned in, her breath warm against Lynna’s ear.
“Tell me… did it hurt?”
The question wasn’t concern. It was hunger.
I tilted my head, letting Lynna’s silver hair cascade over one shoulder. “Only for them.”
The Queen’s eyes darkened.
“Good.”
Her hand closed around mine—not to punish, but to pull. “Come, daughter,” she murmured, leading me toward the arched doors of her private sanctum. “Let’s see how far this magic really goes.”
(Will the Queen’s experiments push your stolen souls to their limits—or will you turn the tables, weaving her into the symphony of your growing collection?)
---
"Sure but a question first, Amaranth. Did you assimilate Ashera or did Ashera assimilate you? In case your curious about how I figured it out, you had a teacher's pride in your eyes when you saw my translation." You ask.
"Interesting and pretty close, they merged instead of assimilating. Ashera wanted power and Amaranth wanted a legacy, so I became that for the two of them. Where my existence is many into one, yours is one into many, we are opposite equals." She replied.
---
Chapter Seventeen: Mirror of Flesh and Legacy
The Queen—Amarashera—arched a silver brow, her lips curling into a smile that was neither wholly cruel nor kind, but something ancient and knowing.
"Clever thief," she mused. "But not quite clever enough." She flicked her wrist, and the air shimmered. The throne room dissolved, replaced by a hidden chamber lined with mirrors—each reflecting not just Lynna and Valria, but shadows of others. Faces I didn't recognize, souls long since folded into the Queen's existence.
"Assimilation is crude," she continued, stepping toward the largest mirror, where the reflection showed not her regal elegance, but a woman with Amaranth's sharp eyes and Ashera's cruel smile. "A hammer when a scalpel is needed. But merging..." She touched the glass, and the reflections blended. "That is an art."
She turned back to me, her form flickering—just for a heartbeat—into something more. Something older.
"You took. I transcended."
Her gaze dropped to the spellbook in my hands.
"Shall I show you how?"
(Do you accept the Queen’s offer, risking your hard-won control for the promise of deeper power? Or does the predator in you see a different path—one where she becomes just another piece in your collection?)
---
"The flaw of a poweful one is that you are limited. The strength of the weak many is, I can also be where I'm need. You say my approach is a hammer but thats looking at it from a raw power perspective. I have the potential to be the ultimate spymaster. So less hammer and more jagged knife."
---
Chapter Eighteen: The Knife in the Crowd
A slow, approving smile spread across the Queen’s—Amarashera’s—lips.
“A knife,” she repeated, rolling the word over her tongue like vintage wine. “One that slips between ribs unseen. A ghost wearing a hundred faces.” She stepped closer, her reflection splitting and reforming in the mirrors around us—here a servant, there a noble, then a stranger in shadow. “Tell me, little blade… do you know why merging was the superior path for me?”
I tilted Lynna’s head, considering. “Because a queen must be singular. Unshakable.”
She clicked her tongue. “Because I am the hand that wields the knife.” Her fingers brushed my cheek—chilling, possessive. “But you? You would be the edge and the hilt. The strike and the hand that delivers it.” Her eyes gleamed. “Tell me, then—do you truly wish only to serve this kingdom?”
The question was a trap.
The answer was a key.
I smiled.
(Will you carve your own empire from the shadows, or bind yourself to the Queen’s web—knowing she sees you as both weapon and rival?)
---
"Yes, because as the first Lynna had the most influence on me. Her love for you and for her home, even as she became me she fought to make those the strongest parts of herself. She ensured that even in her assimilation, I would remain bound to her kingdom."
---
Chapter Nineteen: The Daughter’s Vow
The Queen’s breath caught.
For the first time in centuries—perhaps for the first time since the day she and Amaranth had merged into something greater—something human flickered in her eyes.
Grief.
Her fingers, still pressed against Lynna’s cheek, trembled. Just once.
“You…” Her voice was softer now, stripped of its regal edge. “You truly are her, in ways even I couldn’t fathom.” She exhaled, long and slow, and when she spoke again, it was with the weight of a mother’s sorrow. “She fought you. Not just for herself, but for me.”
A pause. Then—
“And you let her win.”
It wasn’t a question.
I didn’t answer.
The silence between us stretched, taut as a bowstring, until at last the Queen stepped back. Her mask of cool authority slipped back into place—but not before I saw the wet gleam in her eyes.
“Very well, daughter,” she murmured. “Let us see what kind of kingdom we can build… together.”
(Will the Queen’s newfound trust in you prove genuine, or is this another layer of her game? And what of the other souls within you—do they sleep, or do they watch?)
---
"Mother, let us speak to those who know your truth. Your spymaster, your war advisor, your court mage, and your Chief ambassador. Let us tell them the truth about me."
---
Chapter Twenty: The Unveiling
The Queen’s inner circle stood before us in her private council chamber—four of the most powerful figures in the kingdom, now watching me with a mixture of confusion and guarded curiosity.
The Spymaster, a wiry elf with eyes like chips of black ice, studied me too closely. The War Advisor, a scarred veteran of a hundred battles, rested a calloused hand on the hilt of his dagger. The Court Mage, her fingers crackling with restrained energy, glared with open suspicion. And the Chief Ambassador, ever the diplomat, wore a pleasant smile that didn’t reach his calculating gaze.
The Queen lifted a hand. “What I am about to tell you does not leave this room.”
Then she turned to me.
I let the mask slip—just enough.
Lynna’s sweet smile sharpened into something darker, more knowing. Valria’s stance shifted from dutiful knight to something coiled, predatory. Two bodies, one mind—and then, without hesitation, both voices spoke in eerie unison:
“The princess and her knight are gone.”
The Spymaster’s breath hissed between his teeth. The War Advisor’s knuckles whitened on his weapon.
The Queen didn’t intervene.
She waited.
Watching.
Was this trust—or a test?
(Will the inner circle accept this truth, or will the cracks in your control begin to show under their scrutiny? And what deadly game has the Queen truly set in motion?)
Chapter One: The Summoning
The runes on the stone floor flared to life as the last drop of my blood sizzled against the ancient symbols. The air thickened, smelling of burnt copper and something impossibly sweet—her scent, though I didn’t know it yet.
Then, like sunlight breaking through a storm, she appeared.
The elf princess stood naked in the circle, her skin the color of twilight, long silver hair cascading down her back like liquid moonlight. Pointed ears twitched in alarm as those luminous green eyes locked onto me, wide with dawning terror.
"Human," she hissed, voice like wind through autumn leaves. "What have you done?"
I licked my lips, my pulse hammering. The spell was supposed to be simple: summon, contain, consume. I needed her body. Her power. All of her.
But gods, I hadn’t expected her to be so... alive.
The binding circle held, the magic searing into her ankles when she tried to step forward. "Release me!" she demanded, but the words trembled.
"No," I said, stepping closer. "You don’t understand. I’m not letting you out." My fingers hovered just beyond the barrier, aching to touch. "I’m letting in."
Her breath hitched as realization struck—this wasn’t a kidnapping.
It was a trade.
The second part of the spell pulsed through my veins, a dark, hungry weight spreading through my chest. I could feel it, the rip between our souls, the way her essence strained against mine like silk caught on thorns.
"Stop!" she gasped, but it was too late. My vision blurred—no, doubled—and then—
---
You assimilate her soul into yours so completely, that you become her entirely. Now other magic will see you as her.
---
Chapter Two: The Devouring
Her scream tore through the chamber as the spell’s teeth sank in—not into flesh, but deeper. Into her.
I felt it the moment the first thread of her soul unraveled, silken and electric, sliding into me like honeyed fire. Her knees buckled, but the circle held her upright, her body trembling as I drank her in.
Mine.
Her memories flickered behind my eyes—endless forests, the weight of a crown, the whisper of wind against bare skin. The taste of starlight on her tongue. I groaned, fingers digging into my own arms as her essence coiled around mine, merging, melting.
"No—no, stop—" Her voice was weaker now, a fading echo. "You can’t—"
"I can," I whispered—and then her voice spilled from my lips.
Her gasp was my gasp. Her shudder, mine. The circle’s light pulsed, and I watched, dizzy, as my hands—no, hers—rose between us, slender and moon-pale. My reflection shimmered in her wide eyes: her face, her lips parting in a ragged breath.
The last resistance snapped.
Her body collapsed, empty, as her soul dissolved into me with a final, shuddering sigh. I staggered, clutching my—her—chest, feeling the wild drum of her heart. My heart.
The magic settled like a second skin.
I ran trembling fingers down my new body—the curve of my hips, the points of my ears, the slick heat between my thighs. A laugh bubbled up, high and musical—her laugh—as I turned toward the mirror.
The elf princess stared back.
And she smiled.
---
Your run your hand sover your generous curves as you explore your body.
---
Chapter Three: Awakening the Stolen Flesh
My fingers trailed down the slope of my throat, marveling at the silken texture of new skin. The elf princess’s body was perfect—each curve sculpted by grace, each breath a whisper of untouched sensuality. I let out a slow exhale, my—her—lips parting as I brushed my fingertips over a peaked nipple.
A shiver raced through me.
“Gods…” The word slipped out in her voice, sweet and musical, laced with my own dark amusement. My other hand slid lower, fingers tracing the dip of my waist, the flare of my hips. No clothes. None needed. Elves saw no shame in flesh, and now, neither did I.
I turned toward the cracked mirror propped against the chamber wall, watching myself—her—move with liquid elegance. The swell of my breasts, the pale pink of my nipples, the way my waist narrowed invitingly before flaring into luscious hips and toned thighs. I bit her lower lip, arousal tightening low in my stomach.
Mine.
Experimentally, I let a finger drag down my stomach, lower, lower—until I reached the delicate heat between my thighs. A sharp gasp escaped me at the first brush of contact. So sensitive.
The princess had been untouched. I wouldn’t be.
I sank to my knees, refusing to look away from my reflection as my fingers delved deeper, parting soft folds, reveling in the slickness already gathering there. Every touch sent sparks through my stolen nerves. My back arched, silver hair falling over my shoulders as pleasure coiled tighter—
Then the door rattled.
---
"Lynna, we came to save you." Her personal knight/handmaiden says. "You mother felt the dark magic that took you away."
---
Chapter Four: The Deception Begins
The voice was like tempered steel—fierce, loyal, and oh-so-fragile in its concern. My fingers stilled, but I didn’t pull away. Not yet. Through lowered lashes, I watched the door creak open to reveal the intruder.
A warrior woman stood framed in the dim light, clad in supple leather armor that hugged her toned form, her dark braid slung over one shoulder. A longsword was strapped to her hip, but her amber eyes held no threat—only devotion. Her knight.
Handmaiden. Protector. Lover?
The princess’s memories surged up in answer—Valria. Always at my side. Always watching… always wanting. A smirk curled my lips. Interesting.
I let my legs slide wider, just a fraction, watching her gaze flicker down before snapping back up, her cheeks darkening. Caught you.
“L-Lynna,” Valria stammered, her usual discipline cracking. “Your mother felt the disturbance. She sent me to—are you—?” Her throat worked as I trailed a lazy finger back up my thigh.
“To save me?” I sighed, leaning back on my palms, letting the torchlight play over every bare inch of Lynna’s stolen body. “From what, exactly?”
Valria’s sword hand twitched, torn between drawing steel and touching. Oh, she’s been wanting. The princess’s memories whispered of stolen glances, of heated silences, of chances never taken.
“You’re… unharmed?” Valria breathed, stepping closer.
“Come see for yourself.” I tilted my head, letting my voice drip with Lynna’s sweetness—but laced with something darker. Something mine.
---
"This sad little human,'" you say pointing at your old body, "thought he could enslave me. Unfortunately as part of his plan, I have been cursed with lust."
---
Chapter Five: A Curse Worth Keeping
A slow, wicked smile curled her—my—lips as I gestured dismissively at the lifeless husk sprawled on the stone floor. My old body. Pathetic. Empty.
Valria’s gaze darted between me and the corpse, her warrior’s instincts clashing with something far more personal. “A—lust curse?” she repeated, her voice thick.
I arched my back, letting my silver hair spill over my shoulders like molten moonlight, my lithe form sprawled shamelessly before her. “Mmm. A terrible affliction.” I dragged my fingers down my collarbone, tracing the curve of my breast, delighting in the way Valria’s breath hitched. “I need constant relief. A devoted handmaiden might need to… attend me.”
Her sword clattered to the ground.
The sound was delicious. I stretched, letting my thighs part just enough to tease, watching her pupils swallow the amber of her eyes.
“You—you’re serious?” Valria whispered.
“Do I look like I’m in jest?” I purred, tilting my hips up in invitation. “The curse is quite insistent.” I bit my lower lip, letting a needy whimper escape. “Unless you’d rather I suffer?”
Valria moved without thinking—the loyal knight always rushing to her princess’s aid. But this time, when her hands closed around my waist, it wasn’t to protect.
It was to claim.
(Would you like to explore Valria’s “treatment” of the curse in detail, or would you prefer to fast-forward to the throne room, where Queen Ashera awaits her “daughter’s” return?)
---
Explore the "treatment"
---
Chapter Six: The Knight's Devotion
Valria’s hands trembled against my waist—warm, calloused, so unlike the softness she now touched. The scent of leather and steel clung to her, mixing with the heady sweetness of my new body’s arousal.
She couldn’t resist.
And I? I reveled in it.
“Tell me what to do,” she rasped, her voice rough with barely checked hunger.
I laced my fingers behind my head, stretching languidly beneath her gaze. “You’re the knight sworn to serve your princess,” I murmured, arching a teasing brow. “Surely you can… deduce what’s needed.”
A growl rumbled from her throat. Then her mouth crashed down on mine.
Her kiss was untamed, possessive—years of pent-up longing poured into a single searing touch. I moaned into her lips, twining my arms around her neck, pulling her harder against me. Her armor bit into my skin, but the pain only sharpened the pleasure.
Yes.
She tore her mouth away, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down my throat. “Lynna,” she panted against my pulse. “Gods, I’ve wanted—”
I dug my nails into her shoulders. “Show me.”
Valria needed no further encouragement.
Would you prefer a fade-to-black here, or a deeper dive into the “treatment” on the stone floor?
---
Continue the "treatment"
---
Chapter Six: The Knight's Devotion (Continued)
Valria's sword-calloused hands mapped every inch of my stolen body with rough reverence, her lips leaving burning trails across my collarbone. I arched against her, my back lifting off the cold stone as her teeth grazed one peaked nipple.
"All these years," she growled against my skin, "watching you walk through court bare as the dawn..." Her hand slid between my thighs, fingers parting slick folds. "Knowing I had to remain... proper..."
I moaned, wrapping my legs around her waist. "Not proper now," I gasped as two thick fingers plunged deep without warning. My head fell back with a cry, back arching. The princess's body was untouched, every sensation heightened - I felt every ridge of her gauntlet, every shift of her wrist as she began a relentless rhythm.
"Look at you," Valria breathed, watching me writhe beneath her. "Like starlight in my hands." Her thumb found that perfect little bundle of nerves and pressed hard, just as her fingers curled just so inside me.
White heat exploded behind my eyes. The princess's body convulsed, clamping down as I came with a scream that echoed off the chamber walls, pleasure so intense it bordered on pain. Valria's free hand muffled my cries with rough kisses as she worked me through the aftershocks.
"You're not done," she murmured when my breathing finally steadied. "Not until this curse is properly satisfied." In one fluid motion, she flipped me onto my stomach, my bare chest scraping against the stone floor. "And I intend to be very thorough."
(Would you like to explore Valria claiming her princess more completely, or reveal the growing darkness in Lynna's stolen eyes as she begins corrupting her knight's devotion?)
---
The claiming
---
Chapter Seven: The Knight's Submission
Her palm came down on the curve of my bare backside with a sharp crack that echoed through the chamber. I gasped, pleasure-pain lighting up nerves that had never been touched this way before. The princess might have been noble, untouchable—but I was remaking her into something far more interesting.
Valria’s fingers tangled in my silver hair, yanking my head back as her other hand slid around my waist, fingers dipping between my thighs from behind. “You’re shaking,” she murmured against my ear, her voice thick with dark satisfaction. “Is the mighty princess overwhelmed?”
I laughed—low, throaty, Lynna’s voice but mine, holding a hunger the real princess never could have summoned. “Hardly.” I pressed back against her, feeling the hard leather of her armor against my bare skin. “Unless my brave knight is frightened of a little curse?”
A growl rumbled through her chest.
Then she was on me.
Her armor clattered to the floor, piece by piece, until nothing but sweat-slick skin separated us. The weight of her pressed me into the stone, the heat of her body searing against my back. I bit my lip as her hand slid down again, fingers slipping inside me with none of the hesitation she’d shown before.
Good girl. She moved inside me with relentless focus, her other arm locking around my waist, holding me flush against her. I could feel her own need, the hard press of her thigh between mine, the way her breath hitched when I rocked back against her.
“You think you’re saving me, don’t you?” I panted, my fingers curling against the unforgiving stone.
Valria didn’t answer—not with words. Instead, her free hand found my hips, gripping hard enough to bruise, pulling me onto her fingers with every thrust. The slap of skin against skin filled the room, mingling with our gasps, my moans.
Then—her teeth sank into my shoulder.
Fuck.
Pleasure fractured through me, sharp and blinding. My body convulsed around her fingers, back arching, a scream spilling free as wave after wave tore through me. Valria held me through it, her touch turning almost tender as she slowed, dragging out the last sweet pulses of sensation.
When I finally sagged against the floor, boneless and spent, she leaned over me. “Better?” she murmured, breath hot against my ear.
I turned my head, catching her lips in a slow, filthy kiss. “For now.” My fingers traced her jaw. “But curses like this… they linger.”
Valria’s eyes darkened—with hunger, with something deeper. Something dangerous.
I grinned.
Perfect.
(Will you savor your dominance over Valria, or begin your return to court—where the real fun begins? Or perhaps the Queen’s seers have already sensed something amiss with her “daughter”…?)
---
You kiss Valria and assimilate her soul as well.
---
Chapter Eight: Claiming the Knight
The moment our lips met again, I didn’t just kiss her—I opened myself to the deepest magic humming beneath my stolen flesh. Valria gasped against my mouth as she felt it too—the dark, shimmering pull, the same hungry presence that had devoured the original Lynna whole.
Mine.
She tried to wrench back, but my hand tangled in her hair, holding her close as my other palm pressed against the racing pulse at her throat. Her eyes went wide as the first thread of her essence unraveled, her memories pouring into me—years of silent devotion, stolen glances in the royal baths, restless nights imagining this moment but never like this—
"P-Princess—" Her voice was already fading, her body slackening against mine.
"Shhh," I murmured against her lips, drinking her in. "No more waiting."
I felt the exact second she disappeared—her gasp, her fingers clawing at my arms one last time, then... stillness. Her body slumped against me, empty, as her soul folded seamlessly into mine.
Then—movement.
I flexed her fingers, rolled her shoulders, felt the coiled strength in her warrior’s body. When I opened her eyes, I saw myself—Lynna’s body, sprawled beautifully across the stone floor, watching me with a smirk.
Two minds. Two bodies. One will.
I—she—reached out, running a hand down my bare chest. "Mmm," Valria’s voice purred, raspier than before. "This could be... fun."
(Will you return to court with your twin selves? Unleash your shared hunger on the unsuspecting elven nobles? Or will the queen’s mages notice the void where two souls once burned?)
---
"Princess, now that the curse is broken, we should return home."
---
Chapter Nine: The Return
"My lady?" Valria's voice—my voice now—carried the same disciplined cadence as before, but there was a new undercurrent to it. A shared amusement, a knowing. "The Queen will be waiting."
I rose from the stones slowly, stretching Lynna's sinuous body, letting the dim light catch every perfect curve. My old body lay discarded in the corner—a withered husk, forgotten. I didn't need it anymore.
We didn't.
Valria—my Valria—stepped forward, offering a hand. The faintest smirk played at her lips, the only hint of the truth beneath. To any outsider, she was the same steadfast knight, sworn to protect her princess. But I could feel the hunger coiled inside her, the same dark current that pulsed through me.
"Of course," I murmured, taking her hand. Our fingers interlaced, and for a moment, the sensation was dizzying—touching myself through another's flesh. "Let's not keep Mother waiting."
The throne room would be our next stage. The court, our feast.
After all, who better to deceive a queen than her own beloved daughter?
(Does the Queen sense the deception? Or does something even darker await in the palace shadows? A third voice, perhaps, whispering in the empty spaces where the stolen souls once burned...?)
---
You return and play the role of princess
---
Chapter Ten: A Perfect Performance
The palace gates loomed before us, their silver-etched arches gleaming in the moonlight. At my side, Valria stood as dutiful as ever. But beneath the illusion of her unwavering loyalty, I could feel her—myself—smirking.
"Remember," I murmured through our shared thoughts, keeping my eyes downcast in the perfect portrayal of the gentle princess. "No matter what happens... we remain flawless."
The great doors swung open. The court gasped.
"Lynna!" Queen Ashera rose from her throne, her moon-pale robes cascading around her like liquid starlight. She moved with the same ethereal grace I now possessed—had stolen—her silver hair a mirror of mine. No, not mine. Hers.
I let my lip tremble—just slightly—before rushing into her outstretched arms. "Mother," I breathed, burying my face in the crook of her neck. Warm. Familiar. Wrong.
She smelled like jasmine and winter air, a scent the princess's memories immediately recognized. Home. Safety.
But the moment her fingers brushed my back, a shiver ran through me.
Cold.
Not the chill of stone or shadow. No—this was the deep, piercing cold of magic. Like fingers tracing along the edges of a soul.
Did she know?
Beside me, Valria stiffened imperceptibly.
The Queen pulled back, her violet eyes searching mine. Something flickered in their depths—suspicion? Concern?
"Darling," she murmured, thumb brushing my cheek. "What really happened in that tower?"
I let my eyes glisten with unshed tears.
---
"The human who summoned me was trying to enslave me to make me his, he had just cursed me with Lust and was trying to transfer his soul into my body when my dear Valria showed up and killed him mid spell."
---
Chapter Eleven: The Queen's Gaze
A single tear slipped down my cheek—Lynna's cheek—as I spun the lie with practiced perfection. The Queen's fingers tightened ever so slightly on my shoulders, her violet eyes darkening like storm clouds.
"His soul... into your body?" Her voice was a whisper, but the undercurrent of fury sent a delicious shiver through me.
I nodded, letting my lower lip quiver. "He—he wanted to wear me, Mother. Like a dress." My fingers clutched at her sleeves, trembling. The perfect picture of violated innocence.
Behind me, Valria stepped forward, her voice rough with feigned rage. "I cut him down before he could finish the spell, Your Majesty. But the curse..." She hesitated, just enough to sell the shame. "It lingers."
The Queen's gaze flicked between us, her expression unreadable. Then—
A slow, chilling smile curled her lips.
"Is that so?"
Her hand slid from my shoulder to my wrist, her grip suddenly iron. The moment her magic pulsed against my skin, I felt it—the searching, the knowing.
She wasn't checking for a curse.
She was checking for me.
(Does the Queen embrace the predator wearing her daughter's skin—or does she reveal she's been playing this game far longer than you have?)
---
"I would speak to my daughter and her knight alone. Court is dismissed for the day." The queen says.
Once alone, "Alright thief, I recognize the dark magic you used as my old teacher's. My daughter and her knight/handmaiden are both you now, I can't change that. Even now, knowing the truth my detection spells sense nothing wrong with either of you. Its impressive that you could translate het notes but you must not have done so fully, as those who now to look can see my teacher's brand etched into your soul."
---
Chapter Twelve: The Queen's Bargain
The throne room doors sealed shut with a whisper of ancient magic. The Queen did not sit—she loomed, her violet eyes alight with something far more dangerous than anger.
Amusement.
"So," she murmured, stepping closer, her moon-pale robes pooling around her like liquid starlight. "You dug up Amaranth's work. Tell me, thief—did her notes mention the price of such magic?"
I kept Lynna's face carefully blank, but inside, my stolen pulse quickened.
The Queen circled us, her fingers trailing over Valria's armored shoulder before brushing Lynna's cheek. "Her brand burns in your soul like a beacon to those who know where to look." A chuckle, low and velvet-dark. "And you walked it right into my court."
I could feel it now—the searing signature coiled beneath my stolen flesh, a mark I hadn't known to hide. Amaranth's brand.
The Queen's smile sharpened. "Here's what happens next. You will kneel. You will swear fealty. And in return..." Her nails grazed my bottom lip. "I will teach you how to survive what you've become."
(Do you submit to the Queen's terms, or does the predator in you rear its head—risking everything for the chance to claim a third royal body?)
---
"Ah but mother, a princess most never never before another except their lover. You told me those words on my 16th winter after I bowed to the human ambassador."
---
Chapter Thirteen: The Silent War of Eyes
The Queen went very still.
For the first time since my arrival, something flickered across her elegant face—not fury, not calculation.
Recognition.
Her daughter’s words, thrown back at her with the perfect cadence, the exact same lilt of innocent rebellion Lynna had wielded that day. I watched as the Queen’s throat moved subtly, the barest hesitation.
Does she doubt herself now?
Lynna’s body was mine. Valria’s was mine. Every stolen memory, every intimate detail—all folded neatly into the hollow of my being. The princess would have said this. She had said this.
The Queen stepped back. Just half a pace. But it was enough.
“Clever thief,” she murmured, her voice softer now. "But you forget—I trained with Amaranth too."
Her hand shot out, seizing my wrist, her magic lancing into me like white-hot wire. I gasped—not from pain, but from the sheer violence of her probe. She wasn’t searching for flaws in my disguise anymore.
She was counting them.
And in her eyes, reflected back at me—
She was impressed.
(Will the Queen’s fascination with your power outweigh her wrath? Or is this the moment she reveals her own darkness runs far deeper than yours?)
---
"Mother, how about this arrangement. I remain your loving daughter and her loyal knight, I won't try and take your soul in exchange you help me understand this spell. I will remain loyal to kingdom."
---
Chapter Fourteen: The Pact
The Queen’s fingers tightened around my wrist—not painfully, but possessively. Her violet eyes, sharp as honed steel, locked onto mine.
A slow, knowing smile curled her lips.
“Loyalty,” she mused, her voice dropping to a whisper. “From a thief who wears my daughter’s flesh like a second skin?”
I tilted Lynna’s head just so, letting the dim light catch the silver of her—my—hair. “Is it theft… if I improve what I’ve taken?”
Her breath hitched.
The throne room was silent save for the soft rustle of her robes as she stepped closer, her free hand rising to trace the edge of my jaw.
“You are dangerous,” she murmured—not a condemnation, but a compliment.
Then she leaned in, her lips brushing my ear.
“And so am I.”
A pulse of magic passed between us—not hostile, but binding.
“Very well, daughter,” she breathed, pulling back with a smirk. “We have an accord.”
(Will the Queen’s teachings unlock new depths of your power? Or does her “guidance” come with hooks beneath the silk—threads of control even you haven’t sensed yet?)
---
You have your other self hand your mother your translation. "This is what I was able to to figure and all there was. Your bastard was cunning, she mixed languages to change meaning. Just to translate that fragment, I had to learn old elvish, Draconic, Old Common, Ancient Dwarvish, Ancient Beastfolk and old Celestial plus what I can only assume was a cipher language she invented."
---
Chapter Fifteen: The Queen’s Legacy
The Queen’s fingers traced the brittle pages of my—our—translated notes, her sharp eyes flickering between languages, decoding the layers of deceit her old master had woven. Slowly, a sound escaped her.
Not a sigh.
A laugh.
“Oh, Amaranth,” she murmured, shaking her head with something perilously close to fondness. “You paranoid old witch.” Her nail tapped a line of jagged glyphs—Old Dwarvish, but twisted, inverted. “She didn’t just hide the spell. She salted it. Half these instructions would have blown your soul apart if you’d followed them blindly.”
My stolen pulse quickened. Lynna’s throat tightened.
The Queen glanced up, her smile sharp as a dagger’s edge. “Lucky for you… I know her tricks.”She closed the book with a snap.
“Tell me, thief. Have you ever danced with three souls in one skin?”
(Will you trust the Queen’s tutelage, knowing she made the monster you stole from? Or will you unearth the dark secret tucked beneath the fragments—the one even she might not see coming?)
---
"No, I finished translating that and tried it on your daughter when I summoned her. I added Valria after having some fun with her, because she is my knight and handmaiden, she would be around me day and night and would have noticed the change."
---
Chapter Sixteen: The Queen’s Gambit
The Queen went utterly still.
For a breathless moment, the only sound in the throne room was the whisper of parchment settling against silk. Then—
A laugh.
Low. Rich. Dangerous.
“Oh, you delightful creature,” she purred, stepping closer, her fingers trailing along the edge of the spellbook. “You didn’t just steal my daughter’s body. You perfected her.” Her gaze flicked to Valria—me—standing silent and poised at my side. “And then you took her knight for good measure.”
She leaned in, her breath warm against Lynna’s ear.
“Tell me… did it hurt?”
The question wasn’t concern. It was hunger.
I tilted my head, letting Lynna’s silver hair cascade over one shoulder. “Only for them.”
The Queen’s eyes darkened.
“Good.”
Her hand closed around mine—not to punish, but to pull. “Come, daughter,” she murmured, leading me toward the arched doors of her private sanctum. “Let’s see how far this magic really goes.”
(Will the Queen’s experiments push your stolen souls to their limits—or will you turn the tables, weaving her into the symphony of your growing collection?)
---
"Sure but a question first, Amaranth. Did you assimilate Ashera or did Ashera assimilate you? In case your curious about how I figured it out, you had a teacher's pride in your eyes when you saw my translation." You ask.
"Interesting and pretty close, they merged instead of assimilating. Ashera wanted power and Amaranth wanted a legacy, so I became that for the two of them. Where my existence is many into one, yours is one into many, we are opposite equals." She replied.
---
Chapter Seventeen: Mirror of Flesh and Legacy
The Queen—Amarashera—arched a silver brow, her lips curling into a smile that was neither wholly cruel nor kind, but something ancient and knowing.
"Clever thief," she mused. "But not quite clever enough." She flicked her wrist, and the air shimmered. The throne room dissolved, replaced by a hidden chamber lined with mirrors—each reflecting not just Lynna and Valria, but shadows of others. Faces I didn't recognize, souls long since folded into the Queen's existence.
"Assimilation is crude," she continued, stepping toward the largest mirror, where the reflection showed not her regal elegance, but a woman with Amaranth's sharp eyes and Ashera's cruel smile. "A hammer when a scalpel is needed. But merging..." She touched the glass, and the reflections blended. "That is an art."
She turned back to me, her form flickering—just for a heartbeat—into something more. Something older.
"You took. I transcended."
Her gaze dropped to the spellbook in my hands.
"Shall I show you how?"
(Do you accept the Queen’s offer, risking your hard-won control for the promise of deeper power? Or does the predator in you see a different path—one where she becomes just another piece in your collection?)
---
"The flaw of a poweful one is that you are limited. The strength of the weak many is, I can also be where I'm need. You say my approach is a hammer but thats looking at it from a raw power perspective. I have the potential to be the ultimate spymaster. So less hammer and more jagged knife."
---
Chapter Eighteen: The Knife in the Crowd
A slow, approving smile spread across the Queen’s—Amarashera’s—lips.
“A knife,” she repeated, rolling the word over her tongue like vintage wine. “One that slips between ribs unseen. A ghost wearing a hundred faces.” She stepped closer, her reflection splitting and reforming in the mirrors around us—here a servant, there a noble, then a stranger in shadow. “Tell me, little blade… do you know why merging was the superior path for me?”
I tilted Lynna’s head, considering. “Because a queen must be singular. Unshakable.”
She clicked her tongue. “Because I am the hand that wields the knife.” Her fingers brushed my cheek—chilling, possessive. “But you? You would be the edge and the hilt. The strike and the hand that delivers it.” Her eyes gleamed. “Tell me, then—do you truly wish only to serve this kingdom?”
The question was a trap.
The answer was a key.
I smiled.
(Will you carve your own empire from the shadows, or bind yourself to the Queen’s web—knowing she sees you as both weapon and rival?)
---
"Yes, because as the first Lynna had the most influence on me. Her love for you and for her home, even as she became me she fought to make those the strongest parts of herself. She ensured that even in her assimilation, I would remain bound to her kingdom."
---
Chapter Nineteen: The Daughter’s Vow
The Queen’s breath caught.
For the first time in centuries—perhaps for the first time since the day she and Amaranth had merged into something greater—something human flickered in her eyes.
Grief.
Her fingers, still pressed against Lynna’s cheek, trembled. Just once.
“You…” Her voice was softer now, stripped of its regal edge. “You truly are her, in ways even I couldn’t fathom.” She exhaled, long and slow, and when she spoke again, it was with the weight of a mother’s sorrow. “She fought you. Not just for herself, but for me.”
A pause. Then—
“And you let her win.”
It wasn’t a question.
I didn’t answer.
The silence between us stretched, taut as a bowstring, until at last the Queen stepped back. Her mask of cool authority slipped back into place—but not before I saw the wet gleam in her eyes.
“Very well, daughter,” she murmured. “Let us see what kind of kingdom we can build… together.”
(Will the Queen’s newfound trust in you prove genuine, or is this another layer of her game? And what of the other souls within you—do they sleep, or do they watch?)
---
"Mother, let us speak to those who know your truth. Your spymaster, your war advisor, your court mage, and your Chief ambassador. Let us tell them the truth about me."
---
Chapter Twenty: The Unveiling
The Queen’s inner circle stood before us in her private council chamber—four of the most powerful figures in the kingdom, now watching me with a mixture of confusion and guarded curiosity.
The Spymaster, a wiry elf with eyes like chips of black ice, studied me too closely. The War Advisor, a scarred veteran of a hundred battles, rested a calloused hand on the hilt of his dagger. The Court Mage, her fingers crackling with restrained energy, glared with open suspicion. And the Chief Ambassador, ever the diplomat, wore a pleasant smile that didn’t reach his calculating gaze.
The Queen lifted a hand. “What I am about to tell you does not leave this room.”
Then she turned to me.
I let the mask slip—just enough.
Lynna’s sweet smile sharpened into something darker, more knowing. Valria’s stance shifted from dutiful knight to something coiled, predatory. Two bodies, one mind—and then, without hesitation, both voices spoke in eerie unison:
“The princess and her knight are gone.”
The Spymaster’s breath hissed between his teeth. The War Advisor’s knuckles whitened on his weapon.
The Queen didn’t intervene.
She waited.
Watching.
Was this trust—or a test?
(Will the inner circle accept this truth, or will the cracks in your control begin to show under their scrutiny? And what deadly game has the Queen truly set in motion?)
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AziAzi · 14 Sep 2025 -
John quickly joins in with his friends, and thus starts the wild night the friends were going to have...
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John smirked as he started taking off Henry's shirt, revealing the man's sculpted torso inch by inch. But when his shorts dropped and that thick, veined cock sprang up at full mast, every woman in the room let out shocked gasps.
"Holy shit," James breathed through Samantha's lips, her eyes wide as saucers. "No wonder Mrs. Drew got pregnant three times with that thing."
Steve, currently wearing Lance's body, gave an impressed whistle. "And here I thought mine was impressive," he admitted, shaking his head. "But yours? That's like comparing a baseball bat to a fucking redwood tree."
Kevin and Russel broke apart from their heated embrace, both women's bodies flushed and glistening as they approached me with hungry eyes. Kevin ran Sophie's hands down Henry's chest while Russel bit Abby's plump lower lip, their excitement palpable.
"So big brother," Kevin purred in Sophie's voice, fingers tracing my abs, "who gets the first ride?" Russel pressed Abby's body against my side, adding in a husky whisper, "Yeah, pick your favorite."
I grabbed Kevin by Sophie's slender waist, pulling her flush against me. "You," I growled, remembering that housewarming party where Sophie's tight sundress had nearly short-circuited my brain. "Ever since I saw you carrying those moving boxes in that little sundress."
Kevin let out a delighted squeal as I effortlessly threw Sophie's body over my shoulder, carrying her toward the bedroom while she playfully kicked her legs. One firm toss and she bounced onto the king-sized bed, already spreading Sophie's toned thighs wide.
"You know what's crazy?" Kevin said breathlessly, running Sophie's hands up her own body. "We even got access to memories! Sophie's still a virgin. Can you believe that? This fucking body and she's been saving it like some prude." He grinned wickedly, hooking Sophie's fingers into her panties. "Think we should fix that? I mean, if anyone's gonna pop her cherry, shouldn't it be her own dad?"
John growled his approval, crawling onto the bed with barely restrained hunger. His large hands cupped Sophie's pert breasts possessively before he dipped his head, capturing one taut nipple between Henry's lips. Kevin gasped sharply as John swirled Henry's tongue in slow, teasing circles—his body arching instinctively into the delicious friction.
"Oh my god," Kevin moaned in Sophie's light, breathy voice, tangling his fingers in Henry's thick hair. "Feels even better than I imagined..." He gasped sharply when John suddenly suctioned harder, rolling Sophie's stiff peak between his teeth. At the same time, John's other hand slid down Sophie's toned stomach, slipping easily between her slick folds.
Kevin jerked at the first press of Henry's thick fingers against Sophie's tight entrance, hips bucking off the mattress. "Shit—J-John—" he whimpered, toes curling as John worked two fingers knuckle-deep inside Sophie's untouched pussy. The tight heat clamped around Henry's digits drew a deep groan from John's throat, and he pistoned his hand faster—thumb circling Sophie's swollen clit with firm pressure.
Kevin threw Sophie's head back with a wanton cry, thighs trembling. The obscene squelch of her arousal filled the room as John finger-fucked her ruthlessly, dragging Sophie's virgin walls open with every thrust. "Fuck, fuck—she's so tight," Kevin panted frantically, gripping Henry's shoulders with shaking hands. The taboo thrill shot through him—this was Sophie's own father violating her untouched body, and Kevin had front-row seats to every dirty second.
"Is this how you imagined Daddy taking your first time, princess?" John growled against her neck, biting the sensitive skin there before thrusting a third finger inside without warning. Kevin screamed—Sophie's back bowing violently off the bed—as John stretched her unbearably tight around Henry's pistoning fingers. The wet slap of skin-on-skin echoed lewdly as John worked her faster, whispering dirty praise about Sophie's tight little cunt milking her father's fingers so well.
John pulled his fingers free with a wet pop, chuckling darkly at the way Kevin whimpered at the sudden emptiness. Before Kevin could protest, John gripped Sophie's blonde hair firmly, guiding her red, swollen lips toward Henry's throbbing cock.
"Open," John commanded, his voice rough with authority.
Kevin hesitated for just a second before parting Sophie's lips obediently, allowing the massive length to press against her plush mouth. "God, I hate that you're the one calling the shots," Kevin muttered in Sophie's voice, breath hitching as the fat head prodded past her lips. "Fuck, I wish I was in Henry's body right now—you'd be the one choking on me—"
John clenched Henry's jaw tighter, forcing more of his cock down Sophie's throat with a punishing thrust. "You wanted to be the hot neighbor," he reminded, his voice thick with amusement. "Now be a good girl and suck your daddy's cock like you've always wanted."
Kevin groaned—half in frustration, half in reluctant pleasure—as Sophie's throat stretched obscenely around Henry's girth. But then, after a few deep, sloppy strokes, Kevin seemed to decide fuck it and doubled down. He hollowed Sophie's cheeks expertly, bobbing her head with increasing enthusiasm, swirling her tongue along the veined underside while soft, wet noises spilled from her lips. John groaned, gripping Sophie's hair tighter as she sucked like her life depended on it.
Then, just as the rhythm picked up, Kevin pulled off with a lewd gasp. "Wait—hold on," he panted, Sophie's lips slick and swollen. "This isn't enough." He cupped Sophie's heavy tits teasingly, squeezing them together as he looked up at John with a wicked glint in her eyes. "I want to do this right. Get up here."
John didn't hesitate. He climbed onto his knees, legs straddling Sophie as she adjusted beneath him, pressing her breasts tightly around his cock. Kevin let out a shuddering breath as Henry's skin slid between Sophie's soft cleavage. "Fuck yes," he whispered, locking eyes with John as he guided him deeper.
John groaned, grinding into the pillowy heat of Sophie's tits while Kevin's mouth worked the swollen tip between each thrust. Every push forward made Sophie's supple flesh jiggle, the pink tips of her nipples brushing against Henry's length—just enough friction, just enough softness—until John's stomach coiled tight with impending release.
"Good girl," he growled through gritted teeth, watching Sophie's lips stretch around him, her tits glistening with spit and pre-cum as he fucked between them harder. "Fucking perfect."
Kevin hummed in agreement around his cock—then moaned greedily as John's hips jerked forward one final time, painting Sophie's face and chest in thick, hot streaks.
John pulled back, wiping Henry's sweaty forehead as he admired Sophie's flushed, cum-splattered face. Kevin licked Sophie's lips clean with a satisfied smirk.
"Not gonna lie," Kevin panted in Sophie's sultry voice, "that was fucking incredible. But I think we can do better." He rolled onto all fours on the bed, glancing over Sophie's porcelain shoulder with an eager glint in her eye. "You wanna fuck me doggy-style? But there's a condition."
John raised an eyebrow, running Henry's large hands down Sophie's arched back. "Oh?"
Kevin reached for Henry's phone with a wicked grin. "We record it. And we do it in front of the mirror." He tossed the phone onto the nightstand, propping it up to capture the entire reflection. "I wanna watch this pretty little slut get ruined."
John's breath hitched—this was better than he'd imagined. "Fuck yeah, we're doing that."
He guided Sophie's trembling body to the edge of the bed, right in front of the standing mirror. Kevin positioned Sophie's hands against the footboard, arching her back deeper—her round ass high in the air, dripping arousal down her thighs.
John knelt behind her, gripping her hips hard enough to bruise as he aligned Henry's thick cock with Sophie's glistening entrance. "Tell me what you see," he demanded, pressing forward just enough to tease.
Kevin moaned, locking eyes with their reflection as the swollen tip stretched Sophie obscenely wide. "I see Daddy's dick splitting his tight little girl open," he whispered, voice shaking with anticipation.
Then John thrust in fully, and Kevin screamed—Sophie's mouth falling open in pleasure as Henry's massive length buried itself inside her virgin walls, stuffing her to the hilt. John hissed through clenched teeth, gripping Sophie's hips like a vise as he watched the lewd spectacle in the mirror—Sophie's bouncing tits, her flushed face, the way Henry's cock disappeared inside her with every brutal plunge.
"Fuck, look at you," John growled, increasing the tempo, each snap of his hips making Sophie's body jolt forward. "Watching yourself take it like this… you love it, don't you?"
Kevin could only nod frantically, Sophie's blonde hair whipping wildly as John pounded into her harder, their movements perfectly captured on film. "S-She's… she's taking all of Daddy!" Kevin cried in broken moans, clawing at the sheets while John fucked Sophie's tight cunt ruthlessly. "Look at her—she's—OH GOD—"
The mirror reflected everything—the sweat on Henry's muscles, the trembling of Sophie's thighs, the slick mess between her legs. John groaned as he felt Sophie clamp down around him, her body quaking with an overwhelming orgasm. He didn't let up, chasing his own release until, with a final violent thrust, he stilled deep inside her—grinding against Sophie's clenching walls as he unloaded with a guttural roar.
Kevin collapsed forward, Sophie's body utterly spent as John pulled out slowly. The phone was still recording—evidence of their debauchery for blackmail, bragging rights, or worse.
Kevin turned her head, giving John a satisfied smirk in the mirror. "Told you it'd be hotter like this."
John just chuckled, swatting Sophie's ass—red and stinging from the pounding—before collapsing beside her. "No fucking argument here."
John adjusted the phone's angle with a wicked grin, sweat dripping from Henry's brow as he gave Sophie's ass a sharp slap. "Round two starts now," he growled, flipping her onto her back. Kevin gasped dramatically as John pinned Sophie beneath Henry's massive frame, spreading her legs obscenely wide for the recording. "Pure missionary—let's make this one cinematic."
The bed groaned beneath them as John sheathed himself to the hilt in one brutal stroke, Kevin's breathy moans rising in pitch. "Oh God, Daddy, you feel so deep like this!" Sophie's back arched beautifully as Kevin wrapped her legs around Henry's waist, her fingernails raking down his shoulders while the camera captured every detail—the way her flushed tits jiggled with each punishing thrust, the obscene glisten of her swollen lips stretched tight around Henry's girth.
"Fuck, she takes it so well," John panted, watching the phone screen as he snapped his hips harder. Kevin threw Sophie's head back with a scream when John's free hand found her clit, rubbing tight circles as his thrusts turned uneven. "Gonna make you cum on Daddy's cock again—"
Kevin's responding whimper cut off as his borrowed body convulsed, Sophie's tight walls fluttering wildly around John's length. The phone trembled in John's grip as he kept filming through his own climax, groaning at the perfect shot of Sophie's bliss-drunk expression when he spilled inside her.
"Switch!" John ordered breathlessly once he'd caught his wind. In seconds he had Sophie straddling him, Kevin grinding down with sinful expertise. "That's it, ride me proper," John encouraged, guiding Sophie's hands to his chest as they faced the mirror. Kevin bit Sophie's lower lip, rolling her hips in filthy circles that drew ragged moans from both of them. "Keep watching the mirror, baby—see how pretty you look getting railed by your own dad?"
The pace turned punishing—Kevin driving Sophie's hips down to meet every upward thrust, their combined moans crescendoing as sweat-slicked skin slapped together. John barely had time to recover before Kevin dragged him into the mating press, pinning Sophie's petite frame beneath Henry's muscular bulk.
"One more," Kevin panted in Sophie's wrecked voice, guiding Henry's cock back inside her swollen pussy. John groaned at the tight heat, angling his thrusts to hit impossibly deep as the phone captured the lewd bulge in Sophie's stomach with each movement. "F-filling me up s-so good—"
Their rhythm faltered when Kevin twisted suddenly, shifting them into Amazon position with Sophie towering over John. Both men gasped at the new angle—Kevin lowering Sophie's body with torturous slowness until Henry was buried to the balls. "Holy shit," John choked out, watching in the mirror as Sophie's tight ass rose and fell in perfect sync with their ragged breathing.
Right as the coil in John's gut tightened beyond bearing—just as Henry's cock twitched violently inside Sophie's fluttering walls—the world tilted violently. The Drews' bedroom dissolved into blackness mid-thrust.
John came to with a jolt, his own bony knees knocking against the coffee table as he blinked at the familiar living room. The laptop screen blinked mockingly:
SESSION TERMINATED. WANT MORE? YOU KNOW WHAT TO DO.
Kevin collapsed onto the carpet with a shudder, Sophie's phantom pleasure still coursing through his nervous system. "Goddammit," he groaned, palming his aching erection through his jeans. "I was literally about to cum inside Sophie when we got booted." He licked his lips, remembering the way Henry's massive cock had stretched her tight little pussy to the brink. "Fucking timer—I was about to cum when everything went black!"
Steve grabbed James by the collar of his shirt with a snarl. "You selfish bastard! I was this close to nailing Abby's tight little pussy!" He shook James hard, making him stumble back against the couch. "But oh no, you had to keep Lance's gorgeous cock all to yourself for the whole damned hour!"
James rolled his eyes while absently adjusting himself through his jeans, still half-hard from the phantom sensation of Samantha's desperate arousal. "Come on, man, you saw how she was acting—that woman's a goddamn nympho at heart. Could you really blame me for getting carried away?" He gave an exaggerated sigh, shaking his head with a smirk. "Besides, don't act like you weren't loving every second of watching her writhe under Lance. I saw the way you were staring, Steve. You're just pissed I got to enjoy her first."
Russel knocked over a pizza box with an aggravated shout, his lanky limbs nearly tangling as he shot to his feet. "At least you fuckers got to touch someone!" He gestured wildly at his crotch. "I spent the whole goddamn hour trapped in Abby's body, feeling how goddamn horny she is constantly, and couldn't do shit about it!" His face reddened at the memory. "That girl's basically a live wire—brush against her wrong and she's soaking!"
John casually tossed his crypto wallet onto the coffee table with a smirk, the display showing a hefty balance. "Cool your jets, you bunch of horny losers." He tapped the laptop awake, illuminating five flushed faces with its eerie glow. "We've got enough for two more hours. So who's ready to go back in?"
Kevin practically teleported to the keyboard, Sophie's phantom wetness still teasing his synapses. "Fucking Sophie first this time," he declared, hammering at the keys. "I'm finishing what I started—that tight virgin pussy's getting wrecked proper."
Russel's longer arms easily shoved Kevin aside. "Like hell! Abby owes me orgasms, and I'm collecting every last one!" His fingers flew across the keys as he searched for Abby's picture. "Gonna make that perky cheerleader body cum so hard she forgets her own name."
Steve cracked his knuckles with a feral grin. "Don't care whose body I land in, but if I get Lance again?" His tongue swiped across his lips. "Samantha Drew's getting split in half. Might keep her that way all night."
James licked his lips, his fingers twitching with anticipation as he imagined sinking back into Samantha's voluptuous form. "Fuck yeah, another round with those perfect curves," he groaned, adjusting himself through his jeans. "But this time," he added with a sly grin, "I won't hog all the fun." He shot a pointed look at Steve. "Lance's cock is all yours, buddy. And Kev, Russ—Sophie and Abby's tight little bodies are practically begging for it."
He cracked his knuckles, eyes gleaming with mischief. "Hell, maybe I'll even let one of you fuck Samantha while I'm in her. Wouldn't that be a trip?" The guys exchanged glances, considering the filthy possibilities. James just chuckled darkly. "But you better believe I'm taking that body for a proper test drive first." His hand drifted to his waistband again, unable to resist the phantom memory of Samantha's soft, responsive flesh. "God, I can still feel how wet she gets..."
John smirked as he scrolled to Henry's photo and slammed it onto the site without hesitation. "Save the arguments for later," he said, dumping their crypto into the portal with a flourish. "I call dibs on Dad again—that cock's too good to waste on you amateurs."
The others opened their mouths to protest, but John was already clicking CONFIRM. The screen flared white—
And the world went black.
The last thing John heard was Russel's furious "Oh you dick—" before silence swallowed him whole.
Next Chapters
Chapter 4 in BodyPossession.com
by
AziAzi
· 14 Sep 2025
The boys finally get back into the Drew’s bodies. Steve, Kevin, and Russel enjoy some sibling bonding, while John and James take the parent’s bodies out for a spin.
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