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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…
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…
possession Demon Spooky Island
by
AziAzi
· 14 Sep 2025
You and your friends get invited to stay at Spooky Island, and you couldn’t help but be excited for it! Your group arrives at the island and are pleasantly surprised by what you see, unaware of the evil hiding within the island.
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by
AziAzi
· 14 Sep 2025
You were freaking out, some monster had replaced Sydney... and you're not sure what to do. There aren't any return flights until the end of the week, so you have to survive till then. You want to tell your friends about this, but would they even believe you?
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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!
The air in my apartment was thick with exhaustion and the lingering stench of energy drinks. Finals had officially wrecked us—Kevin was sprawled across the couch like a corpse, James was rubbing his temples like he was trying to erase the last 72 hours from memory, and Steve and Russel were slumped on the floor, barely conscious.
Russel scrolled lazily through his phone before suddenly sitting up. "No way. You guys seeing this shit?" He turned the screen toward us, revealing a Reddit thread with the title: "BodyPossession.com is LEGIT—I spent an hour as my hot neighbor and now I’m addicted."
Kevin snorted. "Yeah, and I’m Elon Musk. That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard."
James groaned. "If people could just steal bodies, the world would be a nightmare. Think about it—politicians, celebrities, your ex? Total chaos."
Russel smirked. "Tell that to the thousands of people swearing it works. Says you upload a pic, pay in crypto, and boom—first hour’s free. Like a trial run."
Steve, who had been half-asleep, cracked an eye open. "Okay, hypothetically—if this wasn’t complete bullshit—who would you even possess?"
A slow, stupid grin spread across my face.
I grabbed my laptop. "Only one way to find out."
The guys groaned, half-heartedly protesting, but curiosity got the better of them as they crowded behind me. I typed BodyPossession.com into Google, fully expecting nothing but scam links.
But there it was—first result. No shady redirects, no sketchy warnings. Just a sleek black-and-white homepage with bold letters:
"TEMPORARY BODY HOSTING. FIRST HOUR FREE."
Silence.
Russel exhaled. "What the actual fuck."
Kevin jabbed my arm. "This has got to be fake."
I clicked the gallery. Hundreds of faces loaded—some smiling for the camera, others caught unaware, like the site had scraped every social media profile in existence. A cold tingle slithered down my neck, but I ignored it, scrolling faster.
"Let’s keep it simple," I said, pulling up the Drews’ Instagram—our insanely hot neighbors who lived one floor above us.
Samantha Drew, late 40s but looking like she could pass for a decade younger, full lips and curves that made yoga pants look like a crime. Henry Drew, six-foot-something of sculpted muscle, the kind of guy who probably bench-pressed his kids for fun. Their daughter, Sophie, medical student by day, knockout by night, with that dangerous combo of brains and a body that belonged in a magazine. And the twins—Abby, a lithe, bright-eyed brunette with legs for days, and Lance, her cocky, broad-shouldered counterpart who acted like the dorm showers were his personal runway.
Steve let out a low whistle. "Oh yeah. Mom’s mine."
"The hell she is," James snapped, elbowing him. "Dibs don’t mean shit—this isn’t monopoly."
Russel pinched the bridge of his nose. "Guys. First things first—who the hell gets last pick? Because I know none of you are volunteering."
I tuned them out. My fingers moved before I could second-guess—cropping Henry’s sharply defined jawline from a Cabo vacation pic and dropping it onto the site.
HOST SELECTED: HENRY DREW
FIRST HOUR FREE. SESSION BEGINS IN 10…
Kevin yanked at the laptop. "John, no—think for one goddamn second—!"
Russel just cackled. "Oh, you beautiful, reckless bastard—"
The screen flared white.
Then—nothing.
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!
The air in my apartment was thick with exhaustion and the lingering stench of energy drinks. Finals had officially wrecked us—Kevin was sprawled across the couch like a corpse, James was rubbing his temples like he was trying to erase the last 72 hours from memory, and Steve and Russel were slumped on the floor, barely conscious.
Russel scrolled lazily through his phone before suddenly sitting up. "No way. You guys seeing this shit?" He turned the screen toward us, revealing a Reddit thread with the title: "BodyPossession.com is LEGIT—I spent an hour as my hot neighbor and now I’m addicted."
Kevin snorted. "Yeah, and I’m Elon Musk. That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard."
James groaned. "If people could just steal bodies, the world would be a nightmare. Think about it—politicians, celebrities, your ex? Total chaos."
Russel smirked. "Tell that to the thousands of people swearing it works. Says you upload a pic, pay in crypto, and boom—first hour’s free. Like a trial run."
Steve, who had been half-asleep, cracked an eye open. "Okay, hypothetically—if this wasn’t complete bullshit—who would you even possess?"
A slow, stupid grin spread across my face.
I grabbed my laptop. "Only one way to find out."
The guys groaned, half-heartedly protesting, but curiosity got the better of them as they crowded behind me. I typed BodyPossession.com into Google, fully expecting nothing but scam links.
But there it was—first result. No shady redirects, no sketchy warnings. Just a sleek black-and-white homepage with bold letters:
"TEMPORARY BODY HOSTING. FIRST HOUR FREE."
Silence.
Russel exhaled. "What the actual fuck."
Kevin jabbed my arm. "This has got to be fake."
I clicked the gallery. Hundreds of faces loaded—some smiling for the camera, others caught unaware, like the site had scraped every social media profile in existence. A cold tingle slithered down my neck, but I ignored it, scrolling faster.
"Let’s keep it simple," I said, pulling up the Drews’ Instagram—our insanely hot neighbors who lived one floor above us.
Samantha Drew, late 40s but looking like she could pass for a decade younger, full lips and curves that made yoga pants look like a crime. Henry Drew, six-foot-something of sculpted muscle, the kind of guy who probably bench-pressed his kids for fun. Their daughter, Sophie, medical student by day, knockout by night, with that dangerous combo of brains and a body that belonged in a magazine. And the twins—Abby, a lithe, bright-eyed brunette with legs for days, and Lance, her cocky, broad-shouldered counterpart who acted like the dorm showers were his personal runway.
Steve let out a low whistle. "Oh yeah. Mom’s mine."
"The hell she is," James snapped, elbowing him. "Dibs don’t mean shit—this isn’t monopoly."
Russel pinched the bridge of his nose. "Guys. First things first—who the hell gets last pick? Because I know none of you are volunteering."
I tuned them out. My fingers moved before I could second-guess—cropping Henry’s sharply defined jawline from a Cabo vacation pic and dropping it onto the site.
HOST SELECTED: HENRY DREW
FIRST HOUR FREE. SESSION BEGINS IN 10…
Kevin yanked at the laptop. "John, no—think for one goddamn second—!"
Russel just cackled. "Oh, you beautiful, reckless bastard—"
The screen flared white.
Then—nothing.
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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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Kent is young guy that has to spend the summer paying off his debt after accidentally damaging his bitch of a neighbour Julie’s car while playing a game with his friend Marcus. Kent resigns himself to working as Julie’s glorified servant, that is until he finds an odd looking idol that allows him to possess her body. Now with a summer of freedom ahead and Julie’s hot body to do with as he pleases, Kent is looking forward to making up for lost time and having some fun.
Note: This is a commissioned work that has not been personally written by me. I have been granted permission to distribute and share the story by the original author.
The push mower's dull rattle droned in Kent’s ears, blades whirring through the grass. His body strained beneath the midday sun, and through damp lashes, he caught the blur of a cherry-red convertible roaring down the road—top down, laughter trailing like exhaust.
“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, wiping away another hand of sweat.
The mower sputtered as he yanked it over a thick patch near Julie’s hydrangeas. He imagined Marcus at the wheel, music cranked, their friends crowded in the back seat, already sunburned and salty from the ocean. They wouldn’t miss him today; they probably hadn’t even noticed he wasn’t around these days.
The sun seared, hammering against his back, arms, the nape of his neck where his hair stuck and tangled. Kent tried not to groan, but it was getting harder not to resent the injustice of it all. He trudged along, kicking dust into the air, each pass of the mower a reminder of how thoroughly he'd been screwed.
Two weeks ago, he’d been carefree, tossing a ball back and forth with Marcus in his front yard. It had all gone wrong so fast: Marcus’ wild throw, laughing at Kent’s half-hearted protest, goading him to catch it. Kent squinted against the sky; his hand fumbled the air. The dull clang was the sound of his afternoon crashing against Julie’s car, leaving a perfect circle of incrimination in the glossy finish.
They'd both stared—Marcus with lips curled around the brink of a "whoops," and Kent with his gut unraveling through his shirt.
Marcus caught his eye and smiled like he’d planned the whole thing. "No one saw. Chill, man!" Kent opened his mouth, closed it, hoped it wasn’t as big a deal as he feared.
It was.
The door slammed with the sharp report of impending disaster, and there was Julie in full fury, an avenging angel with a tan. "Which one of you incompetent brats—" She halted, eyes narrowing at the guilty-looking crease on her convertible’s door. Her voice fell, low and venomous. "—thinks this is funny?"
Kent swallowed. He hated the dryness in his mouth, the stickiness on his palms. He hated the dent in the car, hated Marcus's grin, and hated even more how it slid away into something else. Something innocent, friendly. "Hey, Ms. Bentley. We were just leaving a note."
She crossed the lawn with the gait of someone used to having her way, every step as dangerous as an exclamation mark. "Try again, boys."
"We were—"
"He threw it," Kent interrupted. "It got away from him. We’ll get it fixed."
"Kent..." Marcus raised his eyebrows, a betrayed chorus of one.
"You’re damn right you’ll get it fixed." Julie’s attention speared Kent and held. He could feel Marcus shifting, inching toward the door. "And you’ll work off every cent. Both of you."
The pause stretched longer than the afternoon sun. "I guess I can help," Marcus finally said, with the agonized reluctance of a guy donating a kidney. "If I don’t work weekends, and if Mom doesn’t ground me again—"
"Save it," Kent muttered, already caught, already sentenced. He’d seen this play out before. "I’ll take care of it."
Marcus’s hand clamped on his shoulder with all the sincerity of a condolence card bought half-price. "Thanks, bro. I’ll owe you."
"I know you will," Kent had replied, staring past Julie's gloating smile to where Marcus, framed by sunlight and betrayal, had slouched away.
Back in the present, the sun hadn’t moved. Kent kicked the mower into a new row, ignoring how his arms shook from the effort, ignoring how his thoughts spun through pointless what-ifs. He ducked his head, let the work and heat crush him down until he was too small to bother with.
The next pass went easier. Resignation did that—took the sting out of unfairness like Novocain. Kent mowed numbly, lines and rows blurring into one another until the grass lay behind him.
Two more weeks of this? A lifetime? Might as well. Julie was a woman who knew how to wield silence as well as threats. Not for the first time, Kent wondered why Marcus ever threw the damn ball.
He finished, choked the mower dead, wiped sweat from his eyes. His skin felt crispy and tight. All he needed was a dive, no a dip—of his toe into the pool. That would fix it all.
"Is this a joke to you?" Julie's voice, another thing that refused to wilt in the heat.
Kent was shaken back to the present, and caught in the scent of chlorine and coconut oil threading through the afternoon air. He was standing on the edge of the water as Julie stretched relaxingly, every move as intentional as the flick of her gaze.
Her bikini clung like sweat, and Kent's eyes traced its path against his will.
"This isn't acceptable," she said. "Again."
He wanted to disappear into the chlorinated depths, but she was already lounging back, already dismissing him from her thoughts as she dangled new chores between them like a cat with an injured mouse.
"A kid your age shouldn’t have such a hard time keeping up." Julie's eyes glinted like a promise he wasn't going to get. Kent swallowed a retort, tasted salt on his upper lip instead. She knew the effect she had, both in giving orders and ignoring them. "My daughter could do better."
"I doubt that." The words slipped out with a touch more venom than he'd meant.
Kent turned away, wanting to muffle the clink of ice against her glass with his own hands around her throat. Or maybe his own hands around his own throat. He couldn’t decide.
"I don't need attitude. I need that lawn mowed right."
It was a subtle dance of dominance. One she performed like a pro, even reclining. Julie's skin shone like polished bronze under the sun. The same sun had Kent looking like a washed-up sweat rag by comparison. A rag that hadn't worked off his debt, yet.
Julie glanced back at the pool, effectively tossing him from her thoughts, while he stood dumbly in the tangle of lust, obligation, and a boy’s last ounce of pride.
"You want me to go over it again?" His voice cracked—broke around the words.
Her chin tilted up, uninterested. "If it’s not perfect, you’ll keep doing it until it is. Start with the hedges. I expect more from you."
Kent shuffled away, back toward the toolshed.
Home. Kent made his way home that night, in a huff. The familiar house sat quiet and useless, just like his last three paychecks.
Mom greeted him as he trudged through the kitchen door, hand resting on his shoulder—too gentle to be real sympathy. Dad folded a corner of the paper down, equally gentle. "Get it all finished up?"
Kent slumped into the chair across from them, felt himself sink. "Not quite. She keeps adding stuff—"
Mom shook her head. "She wouldn’t do that if you did it right the first time, honey."
"I did do it right! She’s just—" Beautiful, unreasonable, half-naked, impossible. The words tangled up in each other, fell into a frustrated heap at his feet. "—Julie. I’ll never get it done."
Dad was halfway through a reply when Kent cut in. "Can you at least admit this is bullshit?"
"Language, Kent." Mom’s voice held the same note Julie’s did. "You know why you have to finish. We’ve been over this. A hundred times."
"A thousand," Kent grumbled, feeling very young and very old at once.
"A hundred," Dad agreed, unfolding another section of newspaper.
It wasn’t what Kent wanted, but it was more than he'd get from Julie. "She says it’ll take weeks."
"Not if you stick with it," Mom said.
That sounded suspiciously like something he told himself when he woke up to do it all over again.
"I’m not being unreasonable. Marcus should—"
Dad’s look cut him off. "Marcus should listen to his mother and be more like you. Get your things done instead of complaining. It’ll build character, son."
Kent braced against the edges of their insistence, the too-smooth conviction he felt slipping past him like oil on water. He needed it rougher, sharper, like sandpaper. Instead, they filed him down to nothing, left him to carry the pieces.
"Yeah," he mumbled. "Character."
Kent walked through the inferno to Julie’s again the next morning. The sprinklers had done more to cool the yard than he ever would.
She let him in, and Kent found himself in the toolshed again. He was being dramatic, he knew it, but he saw himself doomed to middle age before he left this hellscape.
That’s why you did it, Marcus. To build character. That’s what Kent wanted to believe.
He hoisted a gas can, hated the way it felt so familiar. "Get it all finished up?" he muttered, mocking more than himself.
At the edge of the yard, Marcus’s words snagged his thoughts. "Thanks, bro. I’ll owe you."
Kent cringed inwardly, the flashback was as unwelcome as Marcus’s easy grin. He wasn’t getting anything out of this. The mower whirred to life again, drowning out the last bit of sanity Kent had.
Task 2: Move an ungodly amount of boxes.
Julie watched from the side of the pool again, an ice cube balanced between her lips, as Kent hauled a heavy box across the patio. His steps were an awkward choreography of anger and heat exhaustion. She stretched a leg, attention already back on her phone. "I’m not running a charity, Kent. I expect all of those moved by the end of the day."
His body screamed for rest, but he plowed forward. If she wanted to break him, it would take more than a few shopping sprees and heat waves to do it.
"Commitment, Kent. I need to see you’re committed to paying what you owe," Julie said. She reached lazily for a magazine. Kent nearly buckled under the weight. The sprinklers sputtered on, mocking him. His arms throbbed, and the boxes felt heavier with every step.
Kent glared back at the pool. "Is this all of them?"
Julie sipped her drink, feigning deep consideration. "We'll see, won’t we?"
The heat was a solid thing. He dragged himself back for the next load, ignored the stubborn itch of humiliation as he passed her sun chair. Julie's skin was already bronzed, glowing against the red of her bikini like Christmas in July. She wasn't even watching. Her complete lack of attention chafed worse than his sticky shirt. Maybe this wasn’t better than the lawn.
Kent shook his head and moved another box.
Julie seemed perfectly at ease, flipping the pages without even glancing at him. In turn, each glance he stole fueled the resentment he was supposed to be working off. No, it grew. Larger than him, larger than life.
Kent sighed. Three trips later and Kent's shoulders felt like they were shredding. Julie's calm was like ice in his throat, grating.
She made a bored gesture in his direction.
"I’m going, I’m going," he muttered, head lowered. Prisoner.
"I almost believe you, dear."
Kent rubbed his shoulder, wished he could ignore it as easily as she ignored him. He wanted to break something, maybe her resolve. Maybe his own.
Halfway through the stack, the boxes became heavier. How? Kent’s eyes bulged as her struggled to keep a box in his arms, needing to use his legs to stabilise it.
"Careful," she called without looking up, her foot dangling in the pool. The water, like the entire house, was a universe away. His jaw tightened like the strings of a cheap violin. His actions were almost noble if nobility felt like dirt, grit, and sarcasm. Maybe he wouldn’t get what he wanted—freedom, the beach, even Julie’s attention—but he could work until nothing mattered.
Task 3: Clean the attic.
Kent sneezed.
The attic smelled like dead things, old things, dust and age and memories. Light filtered through a single window, and dust motes mocked him as they danced around. He waved a hand in front of his face, spitting out dirt and frustration in equal measure.
Julie’s voice floated up the stairs, a siren call to hell. "Get it all done, Kent."
He choked on a reply and another sneeze. This was the worst. His arms screamed for relief, but he grabbed a broom instead. Webs clung to every part of the room, and Kent wondered if a spider bit him what kind of superpowers he’d get. Maybe he’d turn into a kid who had some actual free time.
Kent swept the floor with the same dedication that had gotten him here in the first place. He imagined Marcus at the beach, surrounded by friends and bikinis that weren’t his boss’s. The broom handle dug into his blistered palms, and he pushed harder, until the pile of dust and dirt became a small mountain of failure.
He coughed, doubled over. This was pointless. He rubbed his face with a dirty shirt sleeve, smeared the mess across his cheek. A week ago he might have cared.
The broom thudded against the wall. He leaned against it, feeling the sting of dust and sweat in his eyes. It was a lost cause. The whole thing.
Something caught his eye. A figure, cloaked under a dusty wool blanket. He reached for it, more curious than he should have been, and pulled the fabric away.
A doll? An idol?
Kent almost laughed at the absurdity. An old-fashioned thing, with yellowing lace and painted eyes that stared past him like Julie did. He wiped his hands on his shirt, reached for it, fingers closing around the figure. Maybe it—
One touch, and it was the last contact he had, the last time he felt a thing.
One step, and he felt himself shift and separate, pulling apart like a zipper splitting seams that held his mind and body tight. There was a ripping sensation, a fraying sensation, and then a lightness so complete Kent thought he might disappear entirely.
“What the hell is this?!” he screamed in his mind.
Kent looked down at his hands, saw them glowing a pale blue that didn’t hide what was behind them. See-through? Transparent? He was floating-feather light, above the attic floor. Above the mess he’d made of it, above his own body, which was slumped where he’d left it.
His first thought was to panic. His second thought was that he already had. He drifted forward, then back. What just happened?
Was he dead?
No, that wasn’t right. Dead people didn’t get mad, and Kent was mad as hell. He was anything but dead.
He was alive, more alive than he ever felt. Alive, free of the heat and the drudgery and the persistent ache of muscle and bone. Alive, free, and…shimmering?
Kent felt the spark of something he hadn’t felt in weeks. Possibility.
His spirit stretched into the attic's corners, testing his new reach, dancing through the crowded loft. He shot past his old body, tempted to wave. He'd give it up again without a second thought. Let Julie wonder what magic swapped out her slave, wonder what left her so completely she couldn’t yell at it.
Kent skipped through the abandoned boxes, gliding over ancient bags, years of forgotten excess. One flick of his ghostly finger set the attic in motion, objects swaying like they finally believed in ghosts.
They had to believe. Kent wasn't even trying, not yet. He might have spent the entire day haunting her past, finding new things to set loose.
He stuck his head through the attic wall, through the attic floor, and stared at the room below. It was upside down, or maybe he was? Not that it mattered when he could fly—when he could phase. He could phase through walls. Kent laughed at the brilliance of it, the sheer giddiness of going where no one wanted him. He stretched his spirit like a growing boy, like a growing thought, and shot down into Julie’s world.
He peeked out through the window, head first of course. Then his shoulders followed, then his legs. Next thing, Kent was soaring over the manicured lawn that he manicured. He stopped short of her lawn chair, hovering in the blistering summer heat. He felt none of it. Nice!
The chair, the yard, the entire universe looked different when it wasn't pushing him around. A magazine perched on the small table next to her. She relaxed, as fully and completely as if he'd never existed.
Kent watched, waiting to see if she'd notice the power shift. Notice him. It was all he could do not to burst with thrill of possibilities.
But nothing happened. No matter how long he stared at her, she barely felt his eyes on her.
Then he nudged it, pushing at the magazine with a single finger. It slipped from the table, fluttering down onto the grass.
She glanced at it, not even removing her sunglasses. "Wind’s picking up," she mumbled, and leaned back into her own self-absorption.
"Okay," he thought to himself. "If you want to play, let’s play."
Kent pulled at the towel that draped her sun chair. It slipped to the ground with a thud. This time, Julie's eyes popped open. She stared around the yard like she'd just seen him flung from the roof, like her furniture flung itself from the roof.
Her eyes were slits, suspicious, curious, but not afraid. "Ha ha," Kent heard her say. Fine.
He tugged next at the sunscreen, nudging it off her lap, and watching it roll into the water. Julie sat up. Her brow furrowed, and after a long second she slowly slid the sunglasses down her nose. Kent almost laughed. She was so used to getting her way, she couldn't comprehend the universe acting out.
“It’s not funny,” she shouted at cosmic injustice, and at Kent. “Who’s there?”
Kent hovered above her, a cheeky grin spread across his face. The rules had changed—she was playing the game now, and he was the game master. Kent shoved at the drink in her hand, watched as it splashed cold ice, and lemonade on her sun-warmed skin. Julie yelped, surprised. An ice cube melted between her fingers, over her navel, all along the exact same path Kent’s thoughts wanted to travel.
This time, she stood.
However, it was the wrong move.
Kent yanked at the string on her bikini, wild and reckless. The top slipped loose, and before he could whoop with victory, the world stopped.
It happened again.
The same shifting, the same separation. Julie’s spirit rose out of her body like steam from a kettle. She stared down at herself, and then right through him. Kent froze. Her spirit paused, hovered.
Then Kent did what he did best.
He panicked.
How to fix this? How to fix this? How to not get caught?
Kent grabbed at Julie’s astral form, desperate to reverse what he’d done. Instead, it became even worse. When he came to his sense again, his astral form was anew—only it wasn’t. He was inside Julie’s spirit, possessing her essence.
“What the hell is this?!” he screamed again. This time, out loud.
Kent looked down at himself, but all he saw was Julie’s astral body. Her real one took that very moment to slump sideways, falling on the lawn chair with all the grace of a corpse.
A beautiful, half-naked, very vulnerable corpse.
Kent—Julie—stood in shock, mind racing through the possibilities. He could leave her like this. She’d never know. But then another thought crashed over him, stronger than the first: If he didn’t get caught, he’d never get the chance again.
He dove for Julie’s body, not feeling the grass beneath his feet or the sun on his bare shoulders, feeling only the thrill of new freedom around him. It was a game, and he was winning. Kent entered her body through her astral form, through the space where she had left herself open to him.
He settled in.
Kent sat up, eyes going wide when he moved Julie’s body with his own will. The bikini top hung loose, her skin tingled from the lemonade, and he felt everything. Was everything. He was inside her, but more than that—he was her.
Kent—Julie—drew a breath and another, chest rising and falling in thrilling confirmation of what he’d done. This was crazy.
He looked down at himself, taking in the naked curve of Julie’s breasts, feeling the rich sensation of being in her skin—the weight of her breast sat on her chest, the sway of her streaky blonde hair tickling her back, the air on her damp stomach. He had never felt so much, so intensely, and it was all his.
He moved his hand, watched her manicured fingers respond, marveled at how it felt to have nails like these. The sensations were overwhelming, a tidal wave of newness crashing through him, and he was at the center of it all.
Kent rose from the lounge chair, feeling Julie’s legs unfurl beneath him. Her legs. His legs. He took a step and stumbled slightly—her body was so different from his own—but he laughed, a melodic sound that he’s only ever heard from an outsider’s perspective. Now, it was all around him.
He—Julie—stretched, arching her back, reveling in the supple bend of her spine. He swayed from side to side, his eyes drawn to her breasts as they moved with him, to the way her stomach stretched and flattened under her skin. He was gleeful, reckless, and ready to explore.
Kent hopped in place, feeling the heaviness of having breasts that large, of having them jiggle and shift with Julie’s every motion. He hugged her arms around herself, squeezing tight, feeling the way her soft skin gave under her own touch.
“My God,” he said under his breath. He reached up and cupped Julie’s breasts, felt the fullness of them in his new hands. This was better than he could have imagined. “The things I could do…”
A wicked grin spread across his face, a thought forming in his mind that he couldn’t let go of even if he tried. The lemonade was drying on his—her—skin, a sticky sweetness that called out to him. He trailed a finger across Julie’s stomach, felt the tacky residue there. He brought the finger to his mouth, tasted it, and shivered at the sensation. Her body was alive with feeling, with want—Kent’s wants.
“What a silly little blonde I am,” he said, mocking Julie with her own voice. “To spill lemonade all over my tits.”
Kent laughed, delighted with how it felt to be Julie, with how it felt to be free. He let her arms fall to her sides, let them hang loose as he enjoyed the sensation of heaviness on her chest, of the tightness in her bikini top still tied around his waist, and then with no warning at all, he tore it off.
He threw the top in an exaggerated motion that reminded him of Julie, letting it flop somewhere on the grass. With a satisfied sigh, he lay back down on the lounge chair, eager to savor it all. The sun was hot, and it warmed her skin, heating up the stickiness that covered him.
“Kent!” he called, dragging out the syllables of his own name. “The attic better be spotless. Ah, ah,” he tutted in Julie’s voice, as if he were really talking to himself. “I don’t need attitude. I need the attic clean, and I need it now!”
He laughed again, louder this time, and watched the way Julie’s breasts shook with it. He cupped them again, feeling the weight of them, the heat of them under his hands. He kneaded them, felt her nipples harden under his palms. “Yes please.”
The way she responded was electric, was addictive. He circled her nipples with her fingers, feeling the give and pull of her flesh under his touch. He pinched them, tugged at them, and gasped as the sensation rippled through her entire body.
Kent—Julie—arched off the lounge chair, relishing in the newfound closeness of her own skin against itself. Her body, his body now, was a treasure trove of feeling. Guilt was one of them, but Kent discarded it the moment he felt the heat of Julie’s skin.
His new skin.
Kent let his fingers wander, hesitating nowhere, exploring each inch of Julie’s body with an urgency that was all his own. His hands moved from her breasts to her stomach, reveling in the tautness of it, the smoothness. This was incredible. Nothing like his own body, nothing like the weak and overworked thing he’d left behind to gather dust.
The lemonade was a slick trail that led him further down, but Kent wanted to savour every part of Julie’s body.
He grabbed the abandoned cup and found two melting ice cubes in it. Without thinking, he placed one against the pulse point of her neck and felt the cold travel through him, felt it race along her veins in a shiver that made him gasp. He ran it down to her breasts, tracing the hard ice along the soft skin, watching as it left a shiny trail in its wake.
He groaned with pleasure as heat met chill, as her body—his body—reacted to every small sensation.
Kent teased the ice around Julie’s nipples, feeling it melt fast against her warmth, feeling the slickness of water and lemonade mix on her skin. This was too good. Too intense. He pressed harder, drawing circles until nothing but a wet pool remained. Then he took the second ice cube and slid it down her stomach, felt it slip over Julie’s navel, felt it dip lower. He shivered with raw want, with a hunger that was all his own.
Her body was so needy.
Kent couldn’t get enough of her breasts, wanted to hold them, squeeze them, lose himself in the swell and the softness. He ran his hands over her glistening skin, slick and sweet. He rolled Julie’s nipples between her fingers again, felt a tight heat coil at her center, felt the pleasure spread. He was giddy, greedy, and relentless.
Another pinch, another nipple. Kent felt harden beneath his touch—her touch—their touch. He groaned at the intensity of it, the foreignness of it. His fingers were relentless, trailing over Julie’s breasts, thumbs teasing every part of her perky pink nipples. They were like something he'd never felt, like she'd never let him feel. Moans pulled from somewhere within, or perhaps somewhere very far beyond him, mingled with the summer air.
His arousal grew, a heaviness that pulled in his stomach, one that wasn’t accompanied by the swelling of a cock—no. This was all heat and wetness. He could feel the warmth of it spreading, the want of it filling him, and he was unstoppable now, a force with no fear.
He couldn’t resist. Kent settled back against the lounge chair, really made himself comfortable, and let Julie’s fingers trail along her sides. His fingers hooked Julie’s bikini bottom strings, tugging it up higher, so high the fabric pulled tight through her legs, through pussy lips. Her wetness was slick against the bikini bottom, and he moaned, feeling the pressure, the friction of it.
“Holy shit,” he murmured, looking down at how the fabric tucked snug against Julie’s body, feeling the way her pussy responded to the tightness. It had him biting Julie’s lips, moaning softly.
Kent let the strings snap back, rolled his hips against the chair, felt every bit of Julie’s body respond with a raw hunger that was all his own. Then, he loosened one side, then the other, freeing the bikini bottom from her hips and sliding it slowly down. He watched it peel off with a slow stickiness, felt every inch of the cool air as it hit her bare skin, hit her exposed pussy. It left her bare and open to the world. Open to him.
Kent loved every second of it—he wanted more.
He let his hands roam, feeling the soft curve of Julie’s thighs, feeling their warmth, their strength, the way they flexed and tensed as he touched her.
The lemonade was everywhere now, a sweet slickness that begged for more attention. He slid his hands between her legs, feeling them part beneath his touch, feeling the wetness there—a different kind of wetness, one that made him ache, one that made his gasp.
Julie’s pussy.
It was soft, wet. So much wetter than any part of him used to be.
His fingers traced over the smooth skin of Julie’s waxed mound, and Kent knew he was lost to it. He spread her lips with Julie’s fingers, found wetness there, and the heat. It was incredible.
His fingers were sure of themselves, even if the feelings they caused were not. He couldn’t handle it as curiosity fuelled every actions—Kent traced the outer vaginal folds of Julie’s pussy, toying with the heat that roared inside him, that wanted him to dip his fingers in, to move faster, to make Julie come. He rubbed her clit in circles he could feel all the way through himself, all the way up to his nipples, all the way back down. He was breathing hard now, fast and shallow as a dog in heat.
His mind couldn’t handle it, but her body could. His body could. Kent’s fingers massaged her clit in slow, maddening circles, building the intensity of it, building the pressure. He could feel her start to float away from herself, from everything, and Kent whimpered as he felt it too.
He pushed two fingers inside her, felt the wetness close around them. It was tight and hot and nothing like what he’d imagined, but better, better than he’d imagined. He moved his fingers in and out, feeling the slickness grow, feeling her body respond to it. His thumb circled her clit, his other hand squeezing her breast—the sounds, they were music to his ears.
Kent pushed her fingers deep again, fucking into her with growing urgency. He was past the point of caring, past the point of restraint. He pumped her pussy, felt her tighten around the fingers, felt her breath catch in her throat as she started to let go, to really let go.
It was intoxicating, with each squelch, each stroke, a musk scent filled the air—a scent that Julie’s and his. He was so wet, so turned on, Kent was losing his mind. He gathered slickness on his fingertips, savoring it as he brought fingers to his mouth. Her lips parted; her tongue tasted it—tasted herself—and Kent shivered at the sensation, at how different it was from anything he'd known.
Kent moaned, Julie’s voice responded, and it was heaven. His fingers moved faster, more desperate. He was so close, so close to everything.
“Fuuuck,” Kent said, felt the pleasure build and coil. His other hand kneaded her breasts while he licked and sucked at his fingers, alternating between the two until both were coated in sweat and juice and the taste of summer freedom.
It was almost more than he could handle.
He pressed fingers against himself again, dipping deeper this time. Dipping farther into her—inside himself—felt the slick heat of her pussy wrap around him, pull him in. His breath came faster now. His hands moved with a mind of their own, slick against her skin, wet against his thighs.
Julie’s breathing was erratic, and Kent stretched out, arm falling behind his head, mouth parting on every moan, every whine. He turned his head, nose brushing against Julie’s armpit; she’d never let anyone near there before—not even herself.
He groaned again.
Kent-as-Julie buried her face in the hollow crook where arm met shoulder; her shoulder; their shoulder; felt another wave of dizziness at how hot and alive she smelled; tasted another drop of sweat as it ran down his cheek; hers; theirs.
He took a deep inhale, sniffing himself—herself—into a frenzy. She smelled of expensive perfume and a raw muskiness that came form sitting under the summer sun—she smelled of sex. It was new, and it was familiar, and it made him bite down on the skin there as his fingers moved faster, as he felt the pressure build and build.
Kent wanted to consume her.
His tongue darted out as his fingers kept moving, faster still, guided by instinct or greed or maybe just teenage hormones run amok. Julie’s skin tasted salty-sweet; her sweat tasted like freedom.
The world narrowed to the space between Julie’s legs, and Kent gave up entirely on restraint. He moved faster now, thrusting with an urgency that left him panting for breath.
Every touch sent shockwaves through him. It was a new kind of heat—a heat so intense it bordered on pain then circled back again. The sun bore down on him, too, like a spotlight as he squirmed and writhed beneath its attention.
It was happening.
He was going to come.
Kent rocked against the chair, against her fingers, against himself. He was so close.
His back arched off the chair as waves crashed over him: tidal waves, rogue waves; hard enough to knock sense loose from his head; hard enough that it didn’t matter when Julie's voice bubbled up inside, “Oh God oh God oh Godddddd…!”
He panted, fingers wet with her juice, body slick with her sweat, his mind blown. Kent lay still when it subsided—limp with satisfaction yet buzzing with energy.
A lazy smile spread across his face—her face as he let the warmth settle in. He was sated but hungry for so much more; dizzy from exertion yet clear-headed for once about what kind of summer awaited him now: One where Marcus didn’t owe him shit anymore.
One where Marcus didn’t owe him shit anymore.
Note: This is a commissioned work that has not been personally written by me. I have been granted permission to distribute and share the story by the original author.
The push mower's dull rattle droned in Kent’s ears, blades whirring through the grass. His body strained beneath the midday sun, and through damp lashes, he caught the blur of a cherry-red convertible roaring down the road—top down, laughter trailing like exhaust.
“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, wiping away another hand of sweat.
The mower sputtered as he yanked it over a thick patch near Julie’s hydrangeas. He imagined Marcus at the wheel, music cranked, their friends crowded in the back seat, already sunburned and salty from the ocean. They wouldn’t miss him today; they probably hadn’t even noticed he wasn’t around these days.
The sun seared, hammering against his back, arms, the nape of his neck where his hair stuck and tangled. Kent tried not to groan, but it was getting harder not to resent the injustice of it all. He trudged along, kicking dust into the air, each pass of the mower a reminder of how thoroughly he'd been screwed.
Two weeks ago, he’d been carefree, tossing a ball back and forth with Marcus in his front yard. It had all gone wrong so fast: Marcus’ wild throw, laughing at Kent’s half-hearted protest, goading him to catch it. Kent squinted against the sky; his hand fumbled the air. The dull clang was the sound of his afternoon crashing against Julie’s car, leaving a perfect circle of incrimination in the glossy finish.
They'd both stared—Marcus with lips curled around the brink of a "whoops," and Kent with his gut unraveling through his shirt.
Marcus caught his eye and smiled like he’d planned the whole thing. "No one saw. Chill, man!" Kent opened his mouth, closed it, hoped it wasn’t as big a deal as he feared.
It was.
The door slammed with the sharp report of impending disaster, and there was Julie in full fury, an avenging angel with a tan. "Which one of you incompetent brats—" She halted, eyes narrowing at the guilty-looking crease on her convertible’s door. Her voice fell, low and venomous. "—thinks this is funny?"
Kent swallowed. He hated the dryness in his mouth, the stickiness on his palms. He hated the dent in the car, hated Marcus's grin, and hated even more how it slid away into something else. Something innocent, friendly. "Hey, Ms. Bentley. We were just leaving a note."
She crossed the lawn with the gait of someone used to having her way, every step as dangerous as an exclamation mark. "Try again, boys."
"We were—"
"He threw it," Kent interrupted. "It got away from him. We’ll get it fixed."
"Kent..." Marcus raised his eyebrows, a betrayed chorus of one.
"You’re damn right you’ll get it fixed." Julie’s attention speared Kent and held. He could feel Marcus shifting, inching toward the door. "And you’ll work off every cent. Both of you."
The pause stretched longer than the afternoon sun. "I guess I can help," Marcus finally said, with the agonized reluctance of a guy donating a kidney. "If I don’t work weekends, and if Mom doesn’t ground me again—"
"Save it," Kent muttered, already caught, already sentenced. He’d seen this play out before. "I’ll take care of it."
Marcus’s hand clamped on his shoulder with all the sincerity of a condolence card bought half-price. "Thanks, bro. I’ll owe you."
"I know you will," Kent had replied, staring past Julie's gloating smile to where Marcus, framed by sunlight and betrayal, had slouched away.
Back in the present, the sun hadn’t moved. Kent kicked the mower into a new row, ignoring how his arms shook from the effort, ignoring how his thoughts spun through pointless what-ifs. He ducked his head, let the work and heat crush him down until he was too small to bother with.
The next pass went easier. Resignation did that—took the sting out of unfairness like Novocain. Kent mowed numbly, lines and rows blurring into one another until the grass lay behind him.
Two more weeks of this? A lifetime? Might as well. Julie was a woman who knew how to wield silence as well as threats. Not for the first time, Kent wondered why Marcus ever threw the damn ball.
He finished, choked the mower dead, wiped sweat from his eyes. His skin felt crispy and tight. All he needed was a dive, no a dip—of his toe into the pool. That would fix it all.
"Is this a joke to you?" Julie's voice, another thing that refused to wilt in the heat.
Kent was shaken back to the present, and caught in the scent of chlorine and coconut oil threading through the afternoon air. He was standing on the edge of the water as Julie stretched relaxingly, every move as intentional as the flick of her gaze.
Her bikini clung like sweat, and Kent's eyes traced its path against his will.
"This isn't acceptable," she said. "Again."
He wanted to disappear into the chlorinated depths, but she was already lounging back, already dismissing him from her thoughts as she dangled new chores between them like a cat with an injured mouse.
"A kid your age shouldn’t have such a hard time keeping up." Julie's eyes glinted like a promise he wasn't going to get. Kent swallowed a retort, tasted salt on his upper lip instead. She knew the effect she had, both in giving orders and ignoring them. "My daughter could do better."
"I doubt that." The words slipped out with a touch more venom than he'd meant.
Kent turned away, wanting to muffle the clink of ice against her glass with his own hands around her throat. Or maybe his own hands around his own throat. He couldn’t decide.
"I don't need attitude. I need that lawn mowed right."
It was a subtle dance of dominance. One she performed like a pro, even reclining. Julie's skin shone like polished bronze under the sun. The same sun had Kent looking like a washed-up sweat rag by comparison. A rag that hadn't worked off his debt, yet.
Julie glanced back at the pool, effectively tossing him from her thoughts, while he stood dumbly in the tangle of lust, obligation, and a boy’s last ounce of pride.
"You want me to go over it again?" His voice cracked—broke around the words.
Her chin tilted up, uninterested. "If it’s not perfect, you’ll keep doing it until it is. Start with the hedges. I expect more from you."
Kent shuffled away, back toward the toolshed.
Home. Kent made his way home that night, in a huff. The familiar house sat quiet and useless, just like his last three paychecks.
Mom greeted him as he trudged through the kitchen door, hand resting on his shoulder—too gentle to be real sympathy. Dad folded a corner of the paper down, equally gentle. "Get it all finished up?"
Kent slumped into the chair across from them, felt himself sink. "Not quite. She keeps adding stuff—"
Mom shook her head. "She wouldn’t do that if you did it right the first time, honey."
"I did do it right! She’s just—" Beautiful, unreasonable, half-naked, impossible. The words tangled up in each other, fell into a frustrated heap at his feet. "—Julie. I’ll never get it done."
Dad was halfway through a reply when Kent cut in. "Can you at least admit this is bullshit?"
"Language, Kent." Mom’s voice held the same note Julie’s did. "You know why you have to finish. We’ve been over this. A hundred times."
"A thousand," Kent grumbled, feeling very young and very old at once.
"A hundred," Dad agreed, unfolding another section of newspaper.
It wasn’t what Kent wanted, but it was more than he'd get from Julie. "She says it’ll take weeks."
"Not if you stick with it," Mom said.
That sounded suspiciously like something he told himself when he woke up to do it all over again.
"I’m not being unreasonable. Marcus should—"
Dad’s look cut him off. "Marcus should listen to his mother and be more like you. Get your things done instead of complaining. It’ll build character, son."
Kent braced against the edges of their insistence, the too-smooth conviction he felt slipping past him like oil on water. He needed it rougher, sharper, like sandpaper. Instead, they filed him down to nothing, left him to carry the pieces.
"Yeah," he mumbled. "Character."
Kent walked through the inferno to Julie’s again the next morning. The sprinklers had done more to cool the yard than he ever would.
She let him in, and Kent found himself in the toolshed again. He was being dramatic, he knew it, but he saw himself doomed to middle age before he left this hellscape.
That’s why you did it, Marcus. To build character. That’s what Kent wanted to believe.
He hoisted a gas can, hated the way it felt so familiar. "Get it all finished up?" he muttered, mocking more than himself.
At the edge of the yard, Marcus’s words snagged his thoughts. "Thanks, bro. I’ll owe you."
Kent cringed inwardly, the flashback was as unwelcome as Marcus’s easy grin. He wasn’t getting anything out of this. The mower whirred to life again, drowning out the last bit of sanity Kent had.
Task 2: Move an ungodly amount of boxes.
Julie watched from the side of the pool again, an ice cube balanced between her lips, as Kent hauled a heavy box across the patio. His steps were an awkward choreography of anger and heat exhaustion. She stretched a leg, attention already back on her phone. "I’m not running a charity, Kent. I expect all of those moved by the end of the day."
His body screamed for rest, but he plowed forward. If she wanted to break him, it would take more than a few shopping sprees and heat waves to do it.
"Commitment, Kent. I need to see you’re committed to paying what you owe," Julie said. She reached lazily for a magazine. Kent nearly buckled under the weight. The sprinklers sputtered on, mocking him. His arms throbbed, and the boxes felt heavier with every step.
Kent glared back at the pool. "Is this all of them?"
Julie sipped her drink, feigning deep consideration. "We'll see, won’t we?"
The heat was a solid thing. He dragged himself back for the next load, ignored the stubborn itch of humiliation as he passed her sun chair. Julie's skin was already bronzed, glowing against the red of her bikini like Christmas in July. She wasn't even watching. Her complete lack of attention chafed worse than his sticky shirt. Maybe this wasn’t better than the lawn.
Kent shook his head and moved another box.
Julie seemed perfectly at ease, flipping the pages without even glancing at him. In turn, each glance he stole fueled the resentment he was supposed to be working off. No, it grew. Larger than him, larger than life.
Kent sighed. Three trips later and Kent's shoulders felt like they were shredding. Julie's calm was like ice in his throat, grating.
She made a bored gesture in his direction.
"I’m going, I’m going," he muttered, head lowered. Prisoner.
"I almost believe you, dear."
Kent rubbed his shoulder, wished he could ignore it as easily as she ignored him. He wanted to break something, maybe her resolve. Maybe his own.
Halfway through the stack, the boxes became heavier. How? Kent’s eyes bulged as her struggled to keep a box in his arms, needing to use his legs to stabilise it.
"Careful," she called without looking up, her foot dangling in the pool. The water, like the entire house, was a universe away. His jaw tightened like the strings of a cheap violin. His actions were almost noble if nobility felt like dirt, grit, and sarcasm. Maybe he wouldn’t get what he wanted—freedom, the beach, even Julie’s attention—but he could work until nothing mattered.
Task 3: Clean the attic.
Kent sneezed.
The attic smelled like dead things, old things, dust and age and memories. Light filtered through a single window, and dust motes mocked him as they danced around. He waved a hand in front of his face, spitting out dirt and frustration in equal measure.
Julie’s voice floated up the stairs, a siren call to hell. "Get it all done, Kent."
He choked on a reply and another sneeze. This was the worst. His arms screamed for relief, but he grabbed a broom instead. Webs clung to every part of the room, and Kent wondered if a spider bit him what kind of superpowers he’d get. Maybe he’d turn into a kid who had some actual free time.
Kent swept the floor with the same dedication that had gotten him here in the first place. He imagined Marcus at the beach, surrounded by friends and bikinis that weren’t his boss’s. The broom handle dug into his blistered palms, and he pushed harder, until the pile of dust and dirt became a small mountain of failure.
He coughed, doubled over. This was pointless. He rubbed his face with a dirty shirt sleeve, smeared the mess across his cheek. A week ago he might have cared.
The broom thudded against the wall. He leaned against it, feeling the sting of dust and sweat in his eyes. It was a lost cause. The whole thing.
Something caught his eye. A figure, cloaked under a dusty wool blanket. He reached for it, more curious than he should have been, and pulled the fabric away.
A doll? An idol?
Kent almost laughed at the absurdity. An old-fashioned thing, with yellowing lace and painted eyes that stared past him like Julie did. He wiped his hands on his shirt, reached for it, fingers closing around the figure. Maybe it—
One touch, and it was the last contact he had, the last time he felt a thing.
One step, and he felt himself shift and separate, pulling apart like a zipper splitting seams that held his mind and body tight. There was a ripping sensation, a fraying sensation, and then a lightness so complete Kent thought he might disappear entirely.
“What the hell is this?!” he screamed in his mind.
Kent looked down at his hands, saw them glowing a pale blue that didn’t hide what was behind them. See-through? Transparent? He was floating-feather light, above the attic floor. Above the mess he’d made of it, above his own body, which was slumped where he’d left it.
His first thought was to panic. His second thought was that he already had. He drifted forward, then back. What just happened?
Was he dead?
No, that wasn’t right. Dead people didn’t get mad, and Kent was mad as hell. He was anything but dead.
He was alive, more alive than he ever felt. Alive, free of the heat and the drudgery and the persistent ache of muscle and bone. Alive, free, and…shimmering?
Kent felt the spark of something he hadn’t felt in weeks. Possibility.
His spirit stretched into the attic's corners, testing his new reach, dancing through the crowded loft. He shot past his old body, tempted to wave. He'd give it up again without a second thought. Let Julie wonder what magic swapped out her slave, wonder what left her so completely she couldn’t yell at it.
Kent skipped through the abandoned boxes, gliding over ancient bags, years of forgotten excess. One flick of his ghostly finger set the attic in motion, objects swaying like they finally believed in ghosts.
They had to believe. Kent wasn't even trying, not yet. He might have spent the entire day haunting her past, finding new things to set loose.
He stuck his head through the attic wall, through the attic floor, and stared at the room below. It was upside down, or maybe he was? Not that it mattered when he could fly—when he could phase. He could phase through walls. Kent laughed at the brilliance of it, the sheer giddiness of going where no one wanted him. He stretched his spirit like a growing boy, like a growing thought, and shot down into Julie’s world.
He peeked out through the window, head first of course. Then his shoulders followed, then his legs. Next thing, Kent was soaring over the manicured lawn that he manicured. He stopped short of her lawn chair, hovering in the blistering summer heat. He felt none of it. Nice!
The chair, the yard, the entire universe looked different when it wasn't pushing him around. A magazine perched on the small table next to her. She relaxed, as fully and completely as if he'd never existed.
Kent watched, waiting to see if she'd notice the power shift. Notice him. It was all he could do not to burst with thrill of possibilities.
But nothing happened. No matter how long he stared at her, she barely felt his eyes on her.
Then he nudged it, pushing at the magazine with a single finger. It slipped from the table, fluttering down onto the grass.
She glanced at it, not even removing her sunglasses. "Wind’s picking up," she mumbled, and leaned back into her own self-absorption.
"Okay," he thought to himself. "If you want to play, let’s play."
Kent pulled at the towel that draped her sun chair. It slipped to the ground with a thud. This time, Julie's eyes popped open. She stared around the yard like she'd just seen him flung from the roof, like her furniture flung itself from the roof.
Her eyes were slits, suspicious, curious, but not afraid. "Ha ha," Kent heard her say. Fine.
He tugged next at the sunscreen, nudging it off her lap, and watching it roll into the water. Julie sat up. Her brow furrowed, and after a long second she slowly slid the sunglasses down her nose. Kent almost laughed. She was so used to getting her way, she couldn't comprehend the universe acting out.
“It’s not funny,” she shouted at cosmic injustice, and at Kent. “Who’s there?”
Kent hovered above her, a cheeky grin spread across his face. The rules had changed—she was playing the game now, and he was the game master. Kent shoved at the drink in her hand, watched as it splashed cold ice, and lemonade on her sun-warmed skin. Julie yelped, surprised. An ice cube melted between her fingers, over her navel, all along the exact same path Kent’s thoughts wanted to travel.
This time, she stood.
However, it was the wrong move.
Kent yanked at the string on her bikini, wild and reckless. The top slipped loose, and before he could whoop with victory, the world stopped.
It happened again.
The same shifting, the same separation. Julie’s spirit rose out of her body like steam from a kettle. She stared down at herself, and then right through him. Kent froze. Her spirit paused, hovered.
Then Kent did what he did best.
He panicked.
How to fix this? How to fix this? How to not get caught?
Kent grabbed at Julie’s astral form, desperate to reverse what he’d done. Instead, it became even worse. When he came to his sense again, his astral form was anew—only it wasn’t. He was inside Julie’s spirit, possessing her essence.
“What the hell is this?!” he screamed again. This time, out loud.
Kent looked down at himself, but all he saw was Julie’s astral body. Her real one took that very moment to slump sideways, falling on the lawn chair with all the grace of a corpse.
A beautiful, half-naked, very vulnerable corpse.
Kent—Julie—stood in shock, mind racing through the possibilities. He could leave her like this. She’d never know. But then another thought crashed over him, stronger than the first: If he didn’t get caught, he’d never get the chance again.
He dove for Julie’s body, not feeling the grass beneath his feet or the sun on his bare shoulders, feeling only the thrill of new freedom around him. It was a game, and he was winning. Kent entered her body through her astral form, through the space where she had left herself open to him.
He settled in.
Kent sat up, eyes going wide when he moved Julie’s body with his own will. The bikini top hung loose, her skin tingled from the lemonade, and he felt everything. Was everything. He was inside her, but more than that—he was her.
Kent—Julie—drew a breath and another, chest rising and falling in thrilling confirmation of what he’d done. This was crazy.
He looked down at himself, taking in the naked curve of Julie’s breasts, feeling the rich sensation of being in her skin—the weight of her breast sat on her chest, the sway of her streaky blonde hair tickling her back, the air on her damp stomach. He had never felt so much, so intensely, and it was all his.
He moved his hand, watched her manicured fingers respond, marveled at how it felt to have nails like these. The sensations were overwhelming, a tidal wave of newness crashing through him, and he was at the center of it all.
Kent rose from the lounge chair, feeling Julie’s legs unfurl beneath him. Her legs. His legs. He took a step and stumbled slightly—her body was so different from his own—but he laughed, a melodic sound that he’s only ever heard from an outsider’s perspective. Now, it was all around him.
He—Julie—stretched, arching her back, reveling in the supple bend of her spine. He swayed from side to side, his eyes drawn to her breasts as they moved with him, to the way her stomach stretched and flattened under her skin. He was gleeful, reckless, and ready to explore.
Kent hopped in place, feeling the heaviness of having breasts that large, of having them jiggle and shift with Julie’s every motion. He hugged her arms around herself, squeezing tight, feeling the way her soft skin gave under her own touch.
“My God,” he said under his breath. He reached up and cupped Julie’s breasts, felt the fullness of them in his new hands. This was better than he could have imagined. “The things I could do…”
A wicked grin spread across his face, a thought forming in his mind that he couldn’t let go of even if he tried. The lemonade was drying on his—her—skin, a sticky sweetness that called out to him. He trailed a finger across Julie’s stomach, felt the tacky residue there. He brought the finger to his mouth, tasted it, and shivered at the sensation. Her body was alive with feeling, with want—Kent’s wants.
“What a silly little blonde I am,” he said, mocking Julie with her own voice. “To spill lemonade all over my tits.”
Kent laughed, delighted with how it felt to be Julie, with how it felt to be free. He let her arms fall to her sides, let them hang loose as he enjoyed the sensation of heaviness on her chest, of the tightness in her bikini top still tied around his waist, and then with no warning at all, he tore it off.
He threw the top in an exaggerated motion that reminded him of Julie, letting it flop somewhere on the grass. With a satisfied sigh, he lay back down on the lounge chair, eager to savor it all. The sun was hot, and it warmed her skin, heating up the stickiness that covered him.
“Kent!” he called, dragging out the syllables of his own name. “The attic better be spotless. Ah, ah,” he tutted in Julie’s voice, as if he were really talking to himself. “I don’t need attitude. I need the attic clean, and I need it now!”
He laughed again, louder this time, and watched the way Julie’s breasts shook with it. He cupped them again, feeling the weight of them, the heat of them under his hands. He kneaded them, felt her nipples harden under his palms. “Yes please.”
The way she responded was electric, was addictive. He circled her nipples with her fingers, feeling the give and pull of her flesh under his touch. He pinched them, tugged at them, and gasped as the sensation rippled through her entire body.
Kent—Julie—arched off the lounge chair, relishing in the newfound closeness of her own skin against itself. Her body, his body now, was a treasure trove of feeling. Guilt was one of them, but Kent discarded it the moment he felt the heat of Julie’s skin.
His new skin.
Kent let his fingers wander, hesitating nowhere, exploring each inch of Julie’s body with an urgency that was all his own. His hands moved from her breasts to her stomach, reveling in the tautness of it, the smoothness. This was incredible. Nothing like his own body, nothing like the weak and overworked thing he’d left behind to gather dust.
The lemonade was a slick trail that led him further down, but Kent wanted to savour every part of Julie’s body.
He grabbed the abandoned cup and found two melting ice cubes in it. Without thinking, he placed one against the pulse point of her neck and felt the cold travel through him, felt it race along her veins in a shiver that made him gasp. He ran it down to her breasts, tracing the hard ice along the soft skin, watching as it left a shiny trail in its wake.
He groaned with pleasure as heat met chill, as her body—his body—reacted to every small sensation.
Kent teased the ice around Julie’s nipples, feeling it melt fast against her warmth, feeling the slickness of water and lemonade mix on her skin. This was too good. Too intense. He pressed harder, drawing circles until nothing but a wet pool remained. Then he took the second ice cube and slid it down her stomach, felt it slip over Julie’s navel, felt it dip lower. He shivered with raw want, with a hunger that was all his own.
Her body was so needy.
Kent couldn’t get enough of her breasts, wanted to hold them, squeeze them, lose himself in the swell and the softness. He ran his hands over her glistening skin, slick and sweet. He rolled Julie’s nipples between her fingers again, felt a tight heat coil at her center, felt the pleasure spread. He was giddy, greedy, and relentless.
Another pinch, another nipple. Kent felt harden beneath his touch—her touch—their touch. He groaned at the intensity of it, the foreignness of it. His fingers were relentless, trailing over Julie’s breasts, thumbs teasing every part of her perky pink nipples. They were like something he'd never felt, like she'd never let him feel. Moans pulled from somewhere within, or perhaps somewhere very far beyond him, mingled with the summer air.
His arousal grew, a heaviness that pulled in his stomach, one that wasn’t accompanied by the swelling of a cock—no. This was all heat and wetness. He could feel the warmth of it spreading, the want of it filling him, and he was unstoppable now, a force with no fear.
He couldn’t resist. Kent settled back against the lounge chair, really made himself comfortable, and let Julie’s fingers trail along her sides. His fingers hooked Julie’s bikini bottom strings, tugging it up higher, so high the fabric pulled tight through her legs, through pussy lips. Her wetness was slick against the bikini bottom, and he moaned, feeling the pressure, the friction of it.
“Holy shit,” he murmured, looking down at how the fabric tucked snug against Julie’s body, feeling the way her pussy responded to the tightness. It had him biting Julie’s lips, moaning softly.
Kent let the strings snap back, rolled his hips against the chair, felt every bit of Julie’s body respond with a raw hunger that was all his own. Then, he loosened one side, then the other, freeing the bikini bottom from her hips and sliding it slowly down. He watched it peel off with a slow stickiness, felt every inch of the cool air as it hit her bare skin, hit her exposed pussy. It left her bare and open to the world. Open to him.
Kent loved every second of it—he wanted more.
He let his hands roam, feeling the soft curve of Julie’s thighs, feeling their warmth, their strength, the way they flexed and tensed as he touched her.
The lemonade was everywhere now, a sweet slickness that begged for more attention. He slid his hands between her legs, feeling them part beneath his touch, feeling the wetness there—a different kind of wetness, one that made him ache, one that made his gasp.
Julie’s pussy.
It was soft, wet. So much wetter than any part of him used to be.
His fingers traced over the smooth skin of Julie’s waxed mound, and Kent knew he was lost to it. He spread her lips with Julie’s fingers, found wetness there, and the heat. It was incredible.
His fingers were sure of themselves, even if the feelings they caused were not. He couldn’t handle it as curiosity fuelled every actions—Kent traced the outer vaginal folds of Julie’s pussy, toying with the heat that roared inside him, that wanted him to dip his fingers in, to move faster, to make Julie come. He rubbed her clit in circles he could feel all the way through himself, all the way up to his nipples, all the way back down. He was breathing hard now, fast and shallow as a dog in heat.
His mind couldn’t handle it, but her body could. His body could. Kent’s fingers massaged her clit in slow, maddening circles, building the intensity of it, building the pressure. He could feel her start to float away from herself, from everything, and Kent whimpered as he felt it too.
He pushed two fingers inside her, felt the wetness close around them. It was tight and hot and nothing like what he’d imagined, but better, better than he’d imagined. He moved his fingers in and out, feeling the slickness grow, feeling her body respond to it. His thumb circled her clit, his other hand squeezing her breast—the sounds, they were music to his ears.
Kent pushed her fingers deep again, fucking into her with growing urgency. He was past the point of caring, past the point of restraint. He pumped her pussy, felt her tighten around the fingers, felt her breath catch in her throat as she started to let go, to really let go.
It was intoxicating, with each squelch, each stroke, a musk scent filled the air—a scent that Julie’s and his. He was so wet, so turned on, Kent was losing his mind. He gathered slickness on his fingertips, savoring it as he brought fingers to his mouth. Her lips parted; her tongue tasted it—tasted herself—and Kent shivered at the sensation, at how different it was from anything he'd known.
Kent moaned, Julie’s voice responded, and it was heaven. His fingers moved faster, more desperate. He was so close, so close to everything.
“Fuuuck,” Kent said, felt the pleasure build and coil. His other hand kneaded her breasts while he licked and sucked at his fingers, alternating between the two until both were coated in sweat and juice and the taste of summer freedom.
It was almost more than he could handle.
He pressed fingers against himself again, dipping deeper this time. Dipping farther into her—inside himself—felt the slick heat of her pussy wrap around him, pull him in. His breath came faster now. His hands moved with a mind of their own, slick against her skin, wet against his thighs.
Julie’s breathing was erratic, and Kent stretched out, arm falling behind his head, mouth parting on every moan, every whine. He turned his head, nose brushing against Julie’s armpit; she’d never let anyone near there before—not even herself.
He groaned again.
Kent-as-Julie buried her face in the hollow crook where arm met shoulder; her shoulder; their shoulder; felt another wave of dizziness at how hot and alive she smelled; tasted another drop of sweat as it ran down his cheek; hers; theirs.
He took a deep inhale, sniffing himself—herself—into a frenzy. She smelled of expensive perfume and a raw muskiness that came form sitting under the summer sun—she smelled of sex. It was new, and it was familiar, and it made him bite down on the skin there as his fingers moved faster, as he felt the pressure build and build.
Kent wanted to consume her.
His tongue darted out as his fingers kept moving, faster still, guided by instinct or greed or maybe just teenage hormones run amok. Julie’s skin tasted salty-sweet; her sweat tasted like freedom.
The world narrowed to the space between Julie’s legs, and Kent gave up entirely on restraint. He moved faster now, thrusting with an urgency that left him panting for breath.
Every touch sent shockwaves through him. It was a new kind of heat—a heat so intense it bordered on pain then circled back again. The sun bore down on him, too, like a spotlight as he squirmed and writhed beneath its attention.
It was happening.
He was going to come.
Kent rocked against the chair, against her fingers, against himself. He was so close.
His back arched off the chair as waves crashed over him: tidal waves, rogue waves; hard enough to knock sense loose from his head; hard enough that it didn’t matter when Julie's voice bubbled up inside, “Oh God oh God oh Godddddd…!”
He panted, fingers wet with her juice, body slick with her sweat, his mind blown. Kent lay still when it subsided—limp with satisfaction yet buzzing with energy.
A lazy smile spread across his face—her face as he let the warmth settle in. He was sated but hungry for so much more; dizzy from exertion yet clear-headed for once about what kind of summer awaited him now: One where Marcus didn’t owe him shit anymore.
One where Marcus didn’t owe him shit anymore.
mtf
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I try not to think of myself as the bad guy. Yes, I found myself involved in the development of mind-control technology, but I did my best to protect the world from the worst of it. After that, things just kind of happened on their own.
At least, that's what I try to tell myself.
In hindsight, I don’t see how things could have turned out any other way. I’m not saying that as an excuse for any of the things I did or as if it makes them any less bad, but having taken the first step, things just kind of kept happening.
It started at work. I won’t say where.
We were testing methods of remote information transmission that didn’t rely on explicit outputs or inputs. Basically communication that bypassed the barriers outlined in models like Berlo’s SMCR: Instead of relying on language to convey meaning, our aim was to find a way to convey meaning itself directly from one mind to at least one other.
Again, with the benefit of hindsight, the implications were obvious, but we weren’t concerned with whether we should, we just wanted to see if we could. Classic hubris of the scientifically minded.
And it turns out we can. Or more specifically, I can. I’ve made sure all traces of the research material has been scrubbed from any database; every hard drive degaussed, every memory stick smashed into tiny pieces, every document shredded and the whole lot set on fire just to be safe. The technology is too dangerous to risk falling into the wrong hands.
Yes, like mine. It turns out my hands are also the wrong hands, but I didn’t know it at the time. I thought if I just kept the research to myself and studied it in secret, I could find a way to use it to make the world a better place. I guess I can still do that. Maybe it will make up for the bad that I’ve done, which on reflection isn’t even that bad.
Sure, I accidentally corrupted the free will of a fellow human being and inadvertently turned them into my loyal assistant and sex slave, but they’re happy. I know they’re happy, because in a lot of ways, they’re also me.
That helps, right?
*
Everyone was very excited. It was something worth being excited about. Transmission was old tech and measuring changes in brain waves was old tech, but reliably translating knowledge as it was being recalled into data, then being able to implant that data into another mind was a big fucking deal.
Other departments in other labs were specialising in mechanical transmission - robotics and cybernetics, for replacement or auxiliary limbs or remote work in hazardous environments. Useful stuff, but not nearly as delicate as what we were trying to achieve. They were trying to transmit a signal to a robot hand to gently hold an egg: We were trying to pull a single thought out of one mind and stitch it seamlessly into another.
Our first major breakthrough was impression: Not the conveyance of explicit knowledge or of a specific message, just a vague sense experienced by the broadcaster transmitted to the receiver. It had to be a strong sense, which meant staff with intense phobias being the broadcaster knowing what objects were beneath a series of cups, and the receiver choosing a cup at random based on the impression being transmitted to them.
It wasn’t a hundred percent accurate, but the results fell well outside of what would have been possible on pure guesswork and we were pumped to fine tune the technology to see what it could do.
I say “random,” because even though it wasn’t, even though we knew it wasn’t and even though the receiver knew that a successful test would be proof that it wasn’t, they still felt as though they were choosing randomly. At no point did they feel like they were under someone else’s influence or receiving information externally; in every single instance, they were convinced that the experiment had failed and they were just choosing at random.
That should have been our first warning.
We advanced from cups viewed from two positions to mazes navigated from two positions, and then from mazes to simple guessing games like battleships and go fish. Again, no explicit information, but impressions that still left the receiver under the illusion that they were just lucky guessers.
From simple games we moved on to more advanced guessing games like celebrity heads and poker. This was a significant step forwards, but we were still relying on impressions that could be rationalised by the receiver as guesswork and luck. At no point was anyone being fed information that they couldn’t have conceivably deduced, remembered, calculated or bumbled their way into naturally.
That’s when the second major breakthrough happened. One of our broadcasters, Jackson, had gotten tired transmitting the correct answers to his receiver and had started feeding them deliberately incorrect answers. Nothing obvious - just answers that were close enough that they could make even someone who already knew second guess themselves. His receiver had a post-it note on her forehead with “Tiger Woods” written in permanent marker on it, and she had been given the clue “Golfing champion.”
By now, everyone had gotten used to Jackson’s shenanigans, so we grinned or grimaced as poor Lena rattled through every wrong answer she could be compelled to try.
“Tony the Tiger. Michael Jordan. Walt Disney. Santa Claus. Mickey Mouse. Bullroarer Took. Babe Ruth. Heisenberg. Wait, who the hell is Bullroarer Took?”
She didn’t get an answer, as the lab immediately exploded into questions and exclamations and people generally just freaking out. We’d done it, and somehow completely by accident: An entirely new, explicit piece of information had been seamlessly added to a receiver’s brain and it wasn’t until a few seconds after they’d actually said it that they even realised it wasn’t information from their own brain.
That was our second warning.
The third warning came quite a bit later, but by pure chance, I was the only one who noticed and when I did, I acted immediately.
Jackson’s shenanigans had inadvertently opened up new paths of inquiry. By randomly but deliberately poking at areas of knowledge specifically unrelated to the task at hand, we were able to isolate the neural activation patterns associated with conscious knowledge independent of emotional belief.
What followed were several successful instances of transmitting discrete pieces of data from broadcaster to receiver, however we then ran into the new problem of getting the receiver to distinguish between their own thoughts and the information being fed to them. Furthermore, when asked to explain the reasoning behind the transmitted answers, receivers became dismissive, evasive and sometimes even agitated, later explaining that the information just “felt true,” a sensation that applied even in instances where the receiver had been deliberately fed incorrect data.
With mounting dread, we realised the danger of the technology we had created.
The true horror sunk in during a coffee break, when by pure chance I saw Jackon’s reflection making an odd hand gesture over the drink of a coworker whose back was turned. I had to force myself to turn around slowly, watching Jackson converse casually without his eyes leaving her face. It wasn’t until she took a sip that he seemed to relax and noticed me by the coffee machine. I did my best to betray nothing, placing my own coffee onto the table in front of him and moving as though to sit when I “remembered” to get cream from the fridge.
This time when I turned I saw his hurried motion plainly in the brushed metal door, and it took all the self control I had not to confront him or punch his lights out. I returned to the table, adding the cream without sitting before returning it to the fridge. I picked up my coffee and was about to walk out of the room with it when Jackson called out to me with some innocent question about my department. It quickly became clear that he was stalling, waiting for me to drink, so I feigned a casual sip with tightly pursed lips as we spoke and he seemed to relax. I took the opportunity to leave with my cup and as soon as I was out of sight went straight to the micro-observation facility.
We had initially aimed to use physical chips implanted in the subject’s brains to establish a connection, but the risk of accidental damage compounded by multiple intrusions in the case of faulty hardware or the replacement of redundant units made this untenable. Thankfully (or perhaps not), we were assisted by our sister department in nanotech, who had developed a biomonitoring system using carbide nanites that could enter the bloodstream through the digestive tract. To test for successful nanite absorption, we just needed to take a blood sample and insert it into an observation case. And it didn’t just work on blood.
I felt my stomach drop as the coffee reading came back positive. A concentration high enough that even a mouthful would fully colonise a body within hours. I felt sick as I entered a vial of my own saliva, and when that test also came back as a weak positive and rising, I almost fainted.
That fucking bastard.
I had to stop myself from running to the configuration deck and came to a sudden halt halfway there. There’s no way Jackson could have done anything underhanded on one of the terminals without someone seeing him. The room, the equipment and change was constantly monitored as a security measure. If he were going to do anything without being detected, it would need to be somewhere private where he could still access the server and the network. He wasn’t authorised to be anywhere near the site’s core infrastructure, but it was the only place where he would have everything he needed.
I didn’t know how I was going to get access to the server room when I arrived - it’s not as if I had access either - but it turned out that I didn’t need access and neither did Jackson.
Lena had access, and she had left the door unlocked.
She looked up at me owlishly from where she was sitting on the floor, cross-legged with a laptop on her knees.
“Oh, Hi Marcus,” she said, parroting Tommy Wiseau’s infamous line as though we were meeting in the break room.
“Lena?” I asked cautiously. “What are you working on?”
“Oh, I’m just making sure that anytime a new host comes online, they’re set to receive only,” she said, as though she were just filling out her calendar. She turned the laptop so that I could see the screen and pointed at the second of two dots on a map of the facility. “See? There you are right next to me. You came online just a minute ago, so I’ve already made you a receiver.”
“And why would you do that?”
“Because Jackson told me to.”
I stared at the unquestioning innocence in her eyes.
“And you have to do what he says?”
Lena rolled her eyes at me. “Obviously.”
“Obviously,” I repeated. The silence was broken only by the steady whine of cooling fans.
Eventually, Lena shifted uncomfortably. “So, what are you doing here? You’re not IT.”
Not wanting to alarm her, I said the first thing that I could think of. “No, but Jackson sent me.”
The way Lena’s face lit up at his name made me feel ill.
“Does that mean you’re working for him too?”
“Yes,” I lied. Like a man laying down rails for a moving train as he’s riding on it, I grabbed blindly for any string of words that might work. “And he told me to come get you for something important. He’s… outside in the parking lot and says you need to come straight away.”
Lena’s brow wrinkled. “Oh, but I have to stay here for stage three. I’ve just finished getting everyone online.”
“That’s fine. He told me to take over. I have to do what he says, remember? You’ve finished stage two, haven’t you? He says you’ve done a very good job.”
Again, the look of bliss that took over Lena’s face twisted my gut.
“Great! Where can I find him?”
“He just told me as he was walking out,” I said, letting Lena stand up and hand me the laptop. “You’ll have to go look for him. He’s keeping an eye out for you.”
“Okay!” I watched Lena leave the room and closed it behind her, making sure to lock it this time. We shared our parking with three other departments across eight floors, so unless Jackson really was there already, that would keep her out of the way.
She’d been right. Jackson had worked his way through the entire department’s staff and I had a live view of every single person in the facility. Watching the glowing dots meander around the map gave me a truly terrifying glimpse into the future we had made possible.
What caught my eye was something that didn’t exist in the standard interface. We had created individual controls for the kind of transmissions we wanted and the direction we wanted them to go in, but Lena had added a new input without a label.
Clicking on it, a text field appears in which the name “Enfield, Lena” was already populated followed by a yes/no switch.
I pressed “yes” and blacked out.
*
I was in the parking lot, on the blue level by bay two-zero-two. At first I wondered how I had been suddenly transported when I realised how strange I felt all over - my body, my clothes and my hair all felt wrong somehow.
I looked down and felt the strength leave my legs as I saw a woman’s body stretching out below me. A woman’s body in a pair of black Mary Janes, matching pencil skirt, white dress shirt and a lanyard whose ID read “Lena Enfield.”
I stared at myself in shock, having fallen to my knees and began running my unfamiliar hands over my unfamiliar body, trying to confirm that I wasn’t somehow dreaming.
“Lena!” a voice echoed across the concrete, causing me to jump in a mix of fear and guilt. I turned in the direction of the voice and felt my heart quail at the side of Jackson striding towards me, his face contorted with fury.
In that instant I felt an overwhelming sense of panic take over and I wanted to be absolutely anywhere except anywhere near him, and in that same moment I felt myself dragged back into the cool air of the server room, sitting on the floor with Lena’s laptop on my legs.
We had theorised that it was possible, but had never been arrogant or stupid enough to try it. The psychological risks and ethical dangers it posed were beyond our ability to rationalise and well outside the original scope of the project, though there were rumours that it would eventually be turned towards a similar end.
But I didn’t have time to marvel at the development. Jackson would interrogate Lena, Lena would tell him the truth, and he would run straight here. I had to act fast.
Jackson would head straight for the server room once he realised what had happened.
I could head straight for the director’s office, but there was no guarantee that she wasn’t also in on his plot. I checked the map again: She had her nanites installed and despite her rank in the organisation had also been set to receive, as had every guard on her floor. Jackson really intended to just dominate everyone in the building. I had all the proof I needed to expose Jackson and have him arrested.
We would need to deprogram Lena. Shit, assuming that was even possible. God only knew how badly Jackson had been screwing with her brain, or for how long. And there was always a chance the higher ups would find out and do what higher ups always do when they have the opportunity to take even more wealth and power.
I fretted for much longer than I should have under the circumstances. Maybe there really was no other way, or maybe I was just deliberately backing myself into a corner. Whatever the case, the sudden jangle of keys at the door alerted me that I had run out of time, and that within seconds, Jackson would be in the room to steal back the laptop, or possibly even frame me, now that he’d been discovered.
I’d considered the option and dismissed it as immoral. Self-serving. A road too dangerous to even consider walking down. But having failed to take any other action, it was the only one I had left.
It was the right thing to do. It was the only thing to do. When the chips are down and the pressure is on, the only person you can depend on is yourself.
I dragged my own icon into the super broadcaster position, and hit “execute.”
*
There wasn’t any sudden rush of sensation. There never had been: Broadcasting just took the data you wanted to impart and transmitted a copy to the target. But for some reason, I still expected something.
What did happen was the sound of keys hitting the floor outside, followed by a hollow groan of absolute despair.
I unlocked the door and opened it to find Jackson, grey-faced and swaying with his hands covering his face. Lena was behind him, looking pitiful, but not nearly as distraught as Jackson.
“Hello, Jackson.” I said flatly.
“Don’t…” he moaned through his hands.
People had begun to file into the room, ashen-faced but with a mix of anger, all of them staring at Jackson as he tried to hide behind himself.
I’d used the nanites to broadcast two things: The knowledge of what Jackson had tried to do, and my overwhelming disgust at him for the attempt.
Now everyone knew what he’d done, he knew that they knew and he shared their hatred for himself because I had copied it directly from my mind into his.
“Nobody hurt him,” I said, seeing the balled fists and shaking hands around me. “Nobody let him hurt himself, either. Get him out of here.”
Four men approached Jackson, who didn’t resist as they grimly marched him away. I turned to Lena, who was running her hands through her hair, wide-eyed and shivering.
“H-he was-s in m-my head…” she stammered.
I didn’t have any words of consolation for her. Least of all, because not moments ago I had also been inside her mind. The only reason she knew about Jackson was because I had “told” her. I motioned for another one of the staff to take her away.
“Alright, everyone,” I said to those who remained. “I want an all-hands meeting in the break room. Tell everyone you see, and someone head upstairs to find…”
I trailed off as I realised how much time would be wasted finding everyone in the building and telling them where to go, and then more wasted simply having the meeting itself, and that was assuming nobody disagreed with what I was about to say.
Well, neither of those things were problems anymore, were they?
I activated my transmitter and broadcast a new set of instructions.
“The project is to be terminated. Nobody can be trusted with this power. Destroy all hardware, all documentation, strip the building down and wipe everything.”
The effect was instant: People began moving with an almost frantic purpose, delegating tasks to themselves or people nearby as files began to be pulled out of drawers and shredded, computers wiped and machinery disassembled. I had intended to join in, but found myself at sea in a centre of bustling activity, so instead walked myself out to my car to lie down and clear my head.
Had I done the right thing? Yes. Absolutely. Any other decision would have exposed everyone to the risk of Jackson regaining control, or the project being compromised by a figure in authority. Even if the director was of sound moral character, her superiors might not be, or their superiors above them. Someone, somewhere in the organisation would have tried to take advantage, just like Jackson did. Better to destroy everything and pretend it never happened.
I watched numbly as a procession of staff began to file out with armfuls and boxes of shredded documents, leaving trails of confetti in their wake. Like ants, they threw their boxes into one of the massive steel containers used for waste disposal. Some others had started fussing over the nearest cars, and it took me a while to realise that they were siphoning the petrol.
My initial alarm was quelled somewhat when they left the containers of fuel to one side instead of lighting it immediately. Any kind of fire would alert the emergency services, who would no doubt try to stop what was happening once they arrived.
It was actually kind of peaceful, sitting apart from the action and just watching it unfold. Almost like watching an ant colony cleaning out a lunchbox: All of the inside bits got broken down and taken outside until all that was left was the shell.
They had filled all six bins and four of the cargo trucks by the time they were done. Everything had been reduced to the smallest parts it could be torn, cut, unscrewed, unplugged or just smashed into. There was no cheering as fuel was added or the flames lit from a safe distance. Just the quiet relief of a terrible future averted.
Someone coughed near me and I turned to see Lena and a few other members of staff with a single trolley loaded with some equipment that hadn’t been destroyed. Confused, I turned to Lena.
“Aren’t you going to add it to the pile?” I asked.
“Not this stuff,” Lena said cheerfully, apparently recovered from her earlier breakdown. “We figured it would be a shame if we destroyed literally everything, so we’ve saved some of it. And because you decided to be mister lazy-pants while the rest of us were hard at work, we’re giving you the job of taking care of it.”
I couldn’t stop my brow furrowing in confusion. “I never told you to do that.”
Lena scoffed as the others began loading the equipment into my car. “Good. We’re not here to do what you tell us. The vote was unanimous: We’re all getting out, so you get to babysit the last remnants. Hide it, destroy it, do whatever you want. This is your share of the responsibility. Maybe next time, do your bit instead of wandering off for a nap, okay?”
And with that, they left to join the rapidly dispersing crowd as everyone jumped into their cars or hitched a ride from the others. A column of black smoke reached up from the facility, and it would be a matter of minutes before the firefighters arrived. Just by virtue of the work we were doing, the cops wouldn’t be far behind.
Without time to get everything out of my car and into the fire, I jumped into the driver’s seat and made my way out with the rest, racking my brain furiously as I tried to avoid speeding on my way home.
I never told them to set aside any equipment for me. No, I never CONSCIOUSLY told them. That really was the only explanation: There was no way that - after being given the artificial impression that the entire project needed to be burned to the ground - they would somehow conveniently decide that I should be trusted with the last pieces of evidence. Not just any evidence, either: At a glance I could tell that I had been left with everything I needed to manufacture and configure the nanites myself, just on a much smaller scale.
Despite my best intentions, some small part of myself had subconsciously implanted the addendum that one way or another, I should have the power to continue the project privately.
Fine, then. I’d get home, pack up what little I could fit and get the hell out of the city, state, maybe even country before finding somewhere I could safely destroy the last remains of a terrible mistake.
That was almost two years ago.
I never did get around to destroying that equipment.
At least, that's what I try to tell myself.
In hindsight, I don’t see how things could have turned out any other way. I’m not saying that as an excuse for any of the things I did or as if it makes them any less bad, but having taken the first step, things just kind of kept happening.
It started at work. I won’t say where.
We were testing methods of remote information transmission that didn’t rely on explicit outputs or inputs. Basically communication that bypassed the barriers outlined in models like Berlo’s SMCR: Instead of relying on language to convey meaning, our aim was to find a way to convey meaning itself directly from one mind to at least one other.
Again, with the benefit of hindsight, the implications were obvious, but we weren’t concerned with whether we should, we just wanted to see if we could. Classic hubris of the scientifically minded.
And it turns out we can. Or more specifically, I can. I’ve made sure all traces of the research material has been scrubbed from any database; every hard drive degaussed, every memory stick smashed into tiny pieces, every document shredded and the whole lot set on fire just to be safe. The technology is too dangerous to risk falling into the wrong hands.
Yes, like mine. It turns out my hands are also the wrong hands, but I didn’t know it at the time. I thought if I just kept the research to myself and studied it in secret, I could find a way to use it to make the world a better place. I guess I can still do that. Maybe it will make up for the bad that I’ve done, which on reflection isn’t even that bad.
Sure, I accidentally corrupted the free will of a fellow human being and inadvertently turned them into my loyal assistant and sex slave, but they’re happy. I know they’re happy, because in a lot of ways, they’re also me.
That helps, right?
*
Everyone was very excited. It was something worth being excited about. Transmission was old tech and measuring changes in brain waves was old tech, but reliably translating knowledge as it was being recalled into data, then being able to implant that data into another mind was a big fucking deal.
Other departments in other labs were specialising in mechanical transmission - robotics and cybernetics, for replacement or auxiliary limbs or remote work in hazardous environments. Useful stuff, but not nearly as delicate as what we were trying to achieve. They were trying to transmit a signal to a robot hand to gently hold an egg: We were trying to pull a single thought out of one mind and stitch it seamlessly into another.
Our first major breakthrough was impression: Not the conveyance of explicit knowledge or of a specific message, just a vague sense experienced by the broadcaster transmitted to the receiver. It had to be a strong sense, which meant staff with intense phobias being the broadcaster knowing what objects were beneath a series of cups, and the receiver choosing a cup at random based on the impression being transmitted to them.
It wasn’t a hundred percent accurate, but the results fell well outside of what would have been possible on pure guesswork and we were pumped to fine tune the technology to see what it could do.
I say “random,” because even though it wasn’t, even though we knew it wasn’t and even though the receiver knew that a successful test would be proof that it wasn’t, they still felt as though they were choosing randomly. At no point did they feel like they were under someone else’s influence or receiving information externally; in every single instance, they were convinced that the experiment had failed and they were just choosing at random.
That should have been our first warning.
We advanced from cups viewed from two positions to mazes navigated from two positions, and then from mazes to simple guessing games like battleships and go fish. Again, no explicit information, but impressions that still left the receiver under the illusion that they were just lucky guessers.
From simple games we moved on to more advanced guessing games like celebrity heads and poker. This was a significant step forwards, but we were still relying on impressions that could be rationalised by the receiver as guesswork and luck. At no point was anyone being fed information that they couldn’t have conceivably deduced, remembered, calculated or bumbled their way into naturally.
That’s when the second major breakthrough happened. One of our broadcasters, Jackson, had gotten tired transmitting the correct answers to his receiver and had started feeding them deliberately incorrect answers. Nothing obvious - just answers that were close enough that they could make even someone who already knew second guess themselves. His receiver had a post-it note on her forehead with “Tiger Woods” written in permanent marker on it, and she had been given the clue “Golfing champion.”
By now, everyone had gotten used to Jackson’s shenanigans, so we grinned or grimaced as poor Lena rattled through every wrong answer she could be compelled to try.
“Tony the Tiger. Michael Jordan. Walt Disney. Santa Claus. Mickey Mouse. Bullroarer Took. Babe Ruth. Heisenberg. Wait, who the hell is Bullroarer Took?”
She didn’t get an answer, as the lab immediately exploded into questions and exclamations and people generally just freaking out. We’d done it, and somehow completely by accident: An entirely new, explicit piece of information had been seamlessly added to a receiver’s brain and it wasn’t until a few seconds after they’d actually said it that they even realised it wasn’t information from their own brain.
That was our second warning.
The third warning came quite a bit later, but by pure chance, I was the only one who noticed and when I did, I acted immediately.
Jackson’s shenanigans had inadvertently opened up new paths of inquiry. By randomly but deliberately poking at areas of knowledge specifically unrelated to the task at hand, we were able to isolate the neural activation patterns associated with conscious knowledge independent of emotional belief.
What followed were several successful instances of transmitting discrete pieces of data from broadcaster to receiver, however we then ran into the new problem of getting the receiver to distinguish between their own thoughts and the information being fed to them. Furthermore, when asked to explain the reasoning behind the transmitted answers, receivers became dismissive, evasive and sometimes even agitated, later explaining that the information just “felt true,” a sensation that applied even in instances where the receiver had been deliberately fed incorrect data.
With mounting dread, we realised the danger of the technology we had created.
The true horror sunk in during a coffee break, when by pure chance I saw Jackon’s reflection making an odd hand gesture over the drink of a coworker whose back was turned. I had to force myself to turn around slowly, watching Jackson converse casually without his eyes leaving her face. It wasn’t until she took a sip that he seemed to relax and noticed me by the coffee machine. I did my best to betray nothing, placing my own coffee onto the table in front of him and moving as though to sit when I “remembered” to get cream from the fridge.
This time when I turned I saw his hurried motion plainly in the brushed metal door, and it took all the self control I had not to confront him or punch his lights out. I returned to the table, adding the cream without sitting before returning it to the fridge. I picked up my coffee and was about to walk out of the room with it when Jackson called out to me with some innocent question about my department. It quickly became clear that he was stalling, waiting for me to drink, so I feigned a casual sip with tightly pursed lips as we spoke and he seemed to relax. I took the opportunity to leave with my cup and as soon as I was out of sight went straight to the micro-observation facility.
We had initially aimed to use physical chips implanted in the subject’s brains to establish a connection, but the risk of accidental damage compounded by multiple intrusions in the case of faulty hardware or the replacement of redundant units made this untenable. Thankfully (or perhaps not), we were assisted by our sister department in nanotech, who had developed a biomonitoring system using carbide nanites that could enter the bloodstream through the digestive tract. To test for successful nanite absorption, we just needed to take a blood sample and insert it into an observation case. And it didn’t just work on blood.
I felt my stomach drop as the coffee reading came back positive. A concentration high enough that even a mouthful would fully colonise a body within hours. I felt sick as I entered a vial of my own saliva, and when that test also came back as a weak positive and rising, I almost fainted.
That fucking bastard.
I had to stop myself from running to the configuration deck and came to a sudden halt halfway there. There’s no way Jackson could have done anything underhanded on one of the terminals without someone seeing him. The room, the equipment and change was constantly monitored as a security measure. If he were going to do anything without being detected, it would need to be somewhere private where he could still access the server and the network. He wasn’t authorised to be anywhere near the site’s core infrastructure, but it was the only place where he would have everything he needed.
I didn’t know how I was going to get access to the server room when I arrived - it’s not as if I had access either - but it turned out that I didn’t need access and neither did Jackson.
Lena had access, and she had left the door unlocked.
She looked up at me owlishly from where she was sitting on the floor, cross-legged with a laptop on her knees.
“Oh, Hi Marcus,” she said, parroting Tommy Wiseau’s infamous line as though we were meeting in the break room.
“Lena?” I asked cautiously. “What are you working on?”
“Oh, I’m just making sure that anytime a new host comes online, they’re set to receive only,” she said, as though she were just filling out her calendar. She turned the laptop so that I could see the screen and pointed at the second of two dots on a map of the facility. “See? There you are right next to me. You came online just a minute ago, so I’ve already made you a receiver.”
“And why would you do that?”
“Because Jackson told me to.”
I stared at the unquestioning innocence in her eyes.
“And you have to do what he says?”
Lena rolled her eyes at me. “Obviously.”
“Obviously,” I repeated. The silence was broken only by the steady whine of cooling fans.
Eventually, Lena shifted uncomfortably. “So, what are you doing here? You’re not IT.”
Not wanting to alarm her, I said the first thing that I could think of. “No, but Jackson sent me.”
The way Lena’s face lit up at his name made me feel ill.
“Does that mean you’re working for him too?”
“Yes,” I lied. Like a man laying down rails for a moving train as he’s riding on it, I grabbed blindly for any string of words that might work. “And he told me to come get you for something important. He’s… outside in the parking lot and says you need to come straight away.”
Lena’s brow wrinkled. “Oh, but I have to stay here for stage three. I’ve just finished getting everyone online.”
“That’s fine. He told me to take over. I have to do what he says, remember? You’ve finished stage two, haven’t you? He says you’ve done a very good job.”
Again, the look of bliss that took over Lena’s face twisted my gut.
“Great! Where can I find him?”
“He just told me as he was walking out,” I said, letting Lena stand up and hand me the laptop. “You’ll have to go look for him. He’s keeping an eye out for you.”
“Okay!” I watched Lena leave the room and closed it behind her, making sure to lock it this time. We shared our parking with three other departments across eight floors, so unless Jackson really was there already, that would keep her out of the way.
She’d been right. Jackson had worked his way through the entire department’s staff and I had a live view of every single person in the facility. Watching the glowing dots meander around the map gave me a truly terrifying glimpse into the future we had made possible.
What caught my eye was something that didn’t exist in the standard interface. We had created individual controls for the kind of transmissions we wanted and the direction we wanted them to go in, but Lena had added a new input without a label.
Clicking on it, a text field appears in which the name “Enfield, Lena” was already populated followed by a yes/no switch.
I pressed “yes” and blacked out.
*
I was in the parking lot, on the blue level by bay two-zero-two. At first I wondered how I had been suddenly transported when I realised how strange I felt all over - my body, my clothes and my hair all felt wrong somehow.
I looked down and felt the strength leave my legs as I saw a woman’s body stretching out below me. A woman’s body in a pair of black Mary Janes, matching pencil skirt, white dress shirt and a lanyard whose ID read “Lena Enfield.”
I stared at myself in shock, having fallen to my knees and began running my unfamiliar hands over my unfamiliar body, trying to confirm that I wasn’t somehow dreaming.
“Lena!” a voice echoed across the concrete, causing me to jump in a mix of fear and guilt. I turned in the direction of the voice and felt my heart quail at the side of Jackson striding towards me, his face contorted with fury.
In that instant I felt an overwhelming sense of panic take over and I wanted to be absolutely anywhere except anywhere near him, and in that same moment I felt myself dragged back into the cool air of the server room, sitting on the floor with Lena’s laptop on my legs.
We had theorised that it was possible, but had never been arrogant or stupid enough to try it. The psychological risks and ethical dangers it posed were beyond our ability to rationalise and well outside the original scope of the project, though there were rumours that it would eventually be turned towards a similar end.
But I didn’t have time to marvel at the development. Jackson would interrogate Lena, Lena would tell him the truth, and he would run straight here. I had to act fast.
Jackson would head straight for the server room once he realised what had happened.
I could head straight for the director’s office, but there was no guarantee that she wasn’t also in on his plot. I checked the map again: She had her nanites installed and despite her rank in the organisation had also been set to receive, as had every guard on her floor. Jackson really intended to just dominate everyone in the building. I had all the proof I needed to expose Jackson and have him arrested.
We would need to deprogram Lena. Shit, assuming that was even possible. God only knew how badly Jackson had been screwing with her brain, or for how long. And there was always a chance the higher ups would find out and do what higher ups always do when they have the opportunity to take even more wealth and power.
I fretted for much longer than I should have under the circumstances. Maybe there really was no other way, or maybe I was just deliberately backing myself into a corner. Whatever the case, the sudden jangle of keys at the door alerted me that I had run out of time, and that within seconds, Jackson would be in the room to steal back the laptop, or possibly even frame me, now that he’d been discovered.
I’d considered the option and dismissed it as immoral. Self-serving. A road too dangerous to even consider walking down. But having failed to take any other action, it was the only one I had left.
It was the right thing to do. It was the only thing to do. When the chips are down and the pressure is on, the only person you can depend on is yourself.
I dragged my own icon into the super broadcaster position, and hit “execute.”
*
There wasn’t any sudden rush of sensation. There never had been: Broadcasting just took the data you wanted to impart and transmitted a copy to the target. But for some reason, I still expected something.
What did happen was the sound of keys hitting the floor outside, followed by a hollow groan of absolute despair.
I unlocked the door and opened it to find Jackson, grey-faced and swaying with his hands covering his face. Lena was behind him, looking pitiful, but not nearly as distraught as Jackson.
“Hello, Jackson.” I said flatly.
“Don’t…” he moaned through his hands.
People had begun to file into the room, ashen-faced but with a mix of anger, all of them staring at Jackson as he tried to hide behind himself.
I’d used the nanites to broadcast two things: The knowledge of what Jackson had tried to do, and my overwhelming disgust at him for the attempt.
Now everyone knew what he’d done, he knew that they knew and he shared their hatred for himself because I had copied it directly from my mind into his.
“Nobody hurt him,” I said, seeing the balled fists and shaking hands around me. “Nobody let him hurt himself, either. Get him out of here.”
Four men approached Jackson, who didn’t resist as they grimly marched him away. I turned to Lena, who was running her hands through her hair, wide-eyed and shivering.
“H-he was-s in m-my head…” she stammered.
I didn’t have any words of consolation for her. Least of all, because not moments ago I had also been inside her mind. The only reason she knew about Jackson was because I had “told” her. I motioned for another one of the staff to take her away.
“Alright, everyone,” I said to those who remained. “I want an all-hands meeting in the break room. Tell everyone you see, and someone head upstairs to find…”
I trailed off as I realised how much time would be wasted finding everyone in the building and telling them where to go, and then more wasted simply having the meeting itself, and that was assuming nobody disagreed with what I was about to say.
Well, neither of those things were problems anymore, were they?
I activated my transmitter and broadcast a new set of instructions.
“The project is to be terminated. Nobody can be trusted with this power. Destroy all hardware, all documentation, strip the building down and wipe everything.”
The effect was instant: People began moving with an almost frantic purpose, delegating tasks to themselves or people nearby as files began to be pulled out of drawers and shredded, computers wiped and machinery disassembled. I had intended to join in, but found myself at sea in a centre of bustling activity, so instead walked myself out to my car to lie down and clear my head.
Had I done the right thing? Yes. Absolutely. Any other decision would have exposed everyone to the risk of Jackson regaining control, or the project being compromised by a figure in authority. Even if the director was of sound moral character, her superiors might not be, or their superiors above them. Someone, somewhere in the organisation would have tried to take advantage, just like Jackson did. Better to destroy everything and pretend it never happened.
I watched numbly as a procession of staff began to file out with armfuls and boxes of shredded documents, leaving trails of confetti in their wake. Like ants, they threw their boxes into one of the massive steel containers used for waste disposal. Some others had started fussing over the nearest cars, and it took me a while to realise that they were siphoning the petrol.
My initial alarm was quelled somewhat when they left the containers of fuel to one side instead of lighting it immediately. Any kind of fire would alert the emergency services, who would no doubt try to stop what was happening once they arrived.
It was actually kind of peaceful, sitting apart from the action and just watching it unfold. Almost like watching an ant colony cleaning out a lunchbox: All of the inside bits got broken down and taken outside until all that was left was the shell.
They had filled all six bins and four of the cargo trucks by the time they were done. Everything had been reduced to the smallest parts it could be torn, cut, unscrewed, unplugged or just smashed into. There was no cheering as fuel was added or the flames lit from a safe distance. Just the quiet relief of a terrible future averted.
Someone coughed near me and I turned to see Lena and a few other members of staff with a single trolley loaded with some equipment that hadn’t been destroyed. Confused, I turned to Lena.
“Aren’t you going to add it to the pile?” I asked.
“Not this stuff,” Lena said cheerfully, apparently recovered from her earlier breakdown. “We figured it would be a shame if we destroyed literally everything, so we’ve saved some of it. And because you decided to be mister lazy-pants while the rest of us were hard at work, we’re giving you the job of taking care of it.”
I couldn’t stop my brow furrowing in confusion. “I never told you to do that.”
Lena scoffed as the others began loading the equipment into my car. “Good. We’re not here to do what you tell us. The vote was unanimous: We’re all getting out, so you get to babysit the last remnants. Hide it, destroy it, do whatever you want. This is your share of the responsibility. Maybe next time, do your bit instead of wandering off for a nap, okay?”
And with that, they left to join the rapidly dispersing crowd as everyone jumped into their cars or hitched a ride from the others. A column of black smoke reached up from the facility, and it would be a matter of minutes before the firefighters arrived. Just by virtue of the work we were doing, the cops wouldn’t be far behind.
Without time to get everything out of my car and into the fire, I jumped into the driver’s seat and made my way out with the rest, racking my brain furiously as I tried to avoid speeding on my way home.
I never told them to set aside any equipment for me. No, I never CONSCIOUSLY told them. That really was the only explanation: There was no way that - after being given the artificial impression that the entire project needed to be burned to the ground - they would somehow conveniently decide that I should be trusted with the last pieces of evidence. Not just any evidence, either: At a glance I could tell that I had been left with everything I needed to manufacture and configure the nanites myself, just on a much smaller scale.
Despite my best intentions, some small part of myself had subconsciously implanted the addendum that one way or another, I should have the power to continue the project privately.
Fine, then. I’d get home, pack up what little I could fit and get the hell out of the city, state, maybe even country before finding somewhere I could safely destroy the last remains of a terrible mistake.
That was almost two years ago.
I never did get around to destroying that equipment.
mind control
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A story about a reverse body hopper and her family.
Katelyn
My family sucks. I do love them, but sometimes they just suck. Thanks to them my life is usually a total mess. You see, I’m a reverse body hopper. What that means is, my family can possess my body so long as they collide with me at a high enough velocity. I then black out completely and wake up again whenever they decide to leave. Thank God this only works with my family and not with total strangers or my life would be over.
They constantly just take my body, and even when they ask they just keep begging and pleading until I finally give in. Well, the only exception is my Dad. He is just the greatest. He’s never even asked to take over my body. In fact, I’ve asked him to hop me before. He would often take over for me when I was sick or when my period was really bad. He’s the only one I can trust to take care of me and respect my body.
I mean, despite how that all sounds, they do love me, I know they do. That’s why they always try to make it up to me, by buying me gifts or doing stuff for me, like chores and my homework, or hitting the gym. I just wish I could spend some time around my family in peace and simply enjoy their company.
When I talk to my friends about it they make a way big of a deal out of it. It’s not like I feel violated or anything, more like just tired and annoyed. I’m probably just so used to it, even though I shouldn’t be, because it’s been going on for so long, longer that I can even remember. Sometimes it makes me feel like public property, like a shared family car that everyone wants to take for a ride. I can’t even imagine the countless amount of hours of my life that I lost to them.
But I guess it’s gotten better since I moved out, simply for the fact that I’m now out of their reach. Although that still doesn’t stop them from asking if they could borrow “me” for a while. Well, at least it’s easier to say “no” over the phone or via text. And as an added bonus, I don’t have to take the pill anymore. I never liked taking it as it messes with my hormones too much. I only took it as a safety precaution so that my family couldn’t do anything too stupid while they were inside of me.
Actually, it’s been a while since I visited my family, ’cause I’ve been so busy at work. I haven’t met all of them yet, since I arrived at my parent’s house very late last night. So far, I’ve only got to meet Mom and Dad. Maybe I’ll see Robby and Chloe at breakfast or whenever they decide to get up.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Waking up from my daydream, I realized that I had been in the shower for way too long. I turned off the water, reached for my towel, and began drying myself off. I always hated that part, because it made me miss the bliss and warmth of the hot water. Afterwards I got out of the shower and wrapped the towel tightly around my body. Then I stepped into hallway, closed the door behind myself and—
Robert
“Hihi. Welcome home, ‘sis’”, I giggled in my sister’s voice. I quickly flitted off to her room and tightly locked the door behind me. I immediately dropped the towel that “I” was wearing, revealing my older sister’s body in all her naked glory. “Oh, ‘Katy’. You can’t imagine how much I missed ‘you’”, I said, giving “myself” a big hug, squishing my sister’s enormous chest in the process.
I sauntered over to Katy’s full-length mirror, enjoying the sway of her hips with every step. I thoroughly looked her over from head to toe. Her body was simply perfect. Especially her boobs. “Man, I just love your huge rack,“ I told my “sister” while giving her giant globes a firm squeeze. I just couldn’t help myself.
It’s not like I have the hots for my sister. To me, her mind and her body are two separate things. It’s just an unfortunate coincidence that she happened to be a reverse body hopper. I mean, I don’t have a thing for my younger sister or my mom. But then again, neither of them are reverse hoppers.
By now, I’ve hopped my sister so often, that to me it doesn’t really feel like I’m wearing her body. It just feels like I’m being me—a different me. I’ve hopped her since I was a child, even before I hit puberty. The first time was a total accident, and back then she found it cute and adorable, maybe because I was, and also because she was always pretty motherly towards me; she’s my older sister after all. But ever since we, especially I, hit puberty, she disliked me hopping her more and more.
I guess it was bad timing that I discovered her ability when I did, which is probably the reason why I am attracted to her body. In a way you could say that we developed alongside each other, even though she had a two-year headstart. I mean, not many people get to experience growing up both as a boy and a girl, and in more than one way I am thankful for that. Because of her I know what it feels like to become a woman and I think that made us closer than any other siblings. Over the years, I got to experience the swelling of her breasts and the widening of her hips, among other things. And I always loved how her body felt so much softer. Maybe I was secretly envious of that, or maybe I just enjoyed the feeling, I don’t even know.
Nevertheless, I’m a guy afterall and as a hormonal teenager I took advantage of that unique opportunity every way I could. My sister is the reason why, so far, I’ve only dated girls who are slightly older than me. I hopped her way more often than she even knows. There were times when I would sneak into her bedroom almost every. Thankfully, now that I’m older and in college, I have myself much better under control. Although it’s still hard to resist hopping her sometimes. But then again, that whole experience really taught me how to please a woman.
I’m ashamed to admit it, but a few weeks ago I even had sex with her when our little sister was wearing her. I just couldn’t help myself. The combination of my preexisting attraction to her body and my little sister coming on to me was simply too much for me not to give in. To this day, it was still the best sex I ever had. Sometimes, when the sex with a girlfriend gets a little boring, I imagine my sister in her place, which always perks me up again. One time I even accidentally said her name, which was the end of that relationship.
By now, “I” was already dripping wet as I had been rubbing “my” crotch and massaging “my” breasts the whole time I stood in front of the mirror. Feeling that my knees were getting weak, I hurried over and threw myself onto Katy’s bed. There I really went at it by reaching deep inside of my sister’s hole and groping her boobs and tweaking her nipples. I planned on giving her a warm welcome-home present, so I kept frantically sloshing two of her fingers in and out of her dripping wet cunt. After a few minutes of expert stimulation, I felt that her body was on the cusp of an orgasm and abruptly jumped out of her.
Katelyn
Like so many times before, I suddenly woke up in my room. I was lying on my bed, one hand clutching my breast, the other burried inside of me, the latter keept penetrating me, seemingly all on its own. Without a warning, a wave of pleasure hit me. A warm tingling bloomed between my legs and then ratiated outwards, coursing through my entire body. It all happened so fast, I couldn’t stop myself from letting out a long, high-pitched moan. The sudden and intense pleasure made me squirt so much, I soiled both my hand and my bedsheets.
“Welcome home, sis,” my brother laughed with a big, dirty grin plastered across his face. “Robby, you asshole!” I yelled at him. As I pulled my hand from my vagina, strings of the gooey slime that coated my fingers followed it. “Ew, you’re such a disgusting pig.” “Why? Don’t you like your ‘present’?” he asked while he made a run for the door. “You could’ve at least cleaned up after yourself,” I tried to call after him, but he had already fled my room. “Great. Now I have to take another shower.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------
All clean again, I joined my parents at the breakfast table. The table was overflowing with food as my Mom had really gone all out to celebrate my long-awaited return home. “Did you sleep well, honey?” my mother asked. “Oh, yes, fantastic. It felt really great to sleep in my old bed again,” I said while I loaded my plate with waffles and fruits. “What was all that ruckus about earlier?” my father grumbled. “Just Robby being the prick that he usually is.” “Hmpf. I guess I need to have a word with him later.”
“Katyyyyy!” I heard my little sister yell as she ran towards me. I hadn’t even managed to get the first bite of my breakfast when she already gave me a big hug. “Oh, you don’t know how much I missed you, sis!” “Did you really miss me or just my body?” I retorted. “Of course I missed you, silly. You’re my favorite sister.” “I’m your only sister,” I interjected. “Right. But since you brought it up: can I borrow ‘you’ today? Just for this morning, I promise. It’s been way too long since the last time.”
“Leave your sister alone, Chloe,” my Dad commanded. “You’ll make her feel not welcome in her own home. No wonder she is hardly here.” “Oh, she doesn’t mind, Daddy. Right sis?” she said, looking at me with her huge puppy dog eyes. “Yes, I do.” “Come on, Katy. Please? Just for a little bit!” “No,” I responded flatly. “Pleeeeeaaaase. I’ll even go to the gym for you. Remember how much you hate doing that?” “No, I don’t. You’re just making shit up. But, hmm, well. It’s been forever since I had any form of exercise. Work kept me really busy lately,” I pondered aloud. “Pretty please?” she said pouting her lips. “Ugh, fine, I guess,” I reletend. Chloe squealed in response.
“Sweety,” my Mom interjected timidly. “I’m sorry, this might be bad timing and come off as rude, but would you mind if tonight—”. “Yes, yes, it’s fine,” I interrupted her annoyed. “You can all ‘borrow’ my body. But get it out of your systems today, ’cause there will be no hopping tomorrow! I—”
Chloe
“Chloe!” my Mom scolded me. “You could have at least let your sister eat breakfast herself,”. “But Moooom,” I whined in my older sister’s voice. “You heard her. She said it was okay.” I wolfed down my sister’s breakfast as fast as I could and then raced up the stairs and into Katy’s room, leaving my speechless parents behind.
Finally behind closed doors I began rubbing my sister’s flat belly. I loved doing that so much, her pussy always immediately begins to tingle in response. Unfortunately, I wasn’t as blessed in the looks departement as my older sister was. As far back as I can remember I have been chubby. And with each year, it’s gotten worse. I can’t seem to lose weight, no matter what I try. Which makes me feel jealous of her sometimes, even though I know that it isn’t her fault.
In contrast to mine, her body is really slim and always feels so light and full of energy. It even makes going to the gym a lot of fun. In my own body it is just pure torture. And the reactions I get from other people are just so different. When I’m her, people seem to adore me, but when I’m myself, they seem to despise me. Even though I’m the same person; only my looks change.
That’s the main reason why I’ve been hopping her since I was little. Also, being in her body always made me feel so mature and grown-up. I always felt especially proud when I was wearing her big boobs. I loved showing them off and catching someone trying to secretly glance at them (or sometimes even outright staring). Back then they seemed enormous, especially compared to, what I considered, my own underdeveloped body. In hindsight, when I look at them now in old photos, they don’t seem that big. Sure, they were bigger than those of other girls her age, but still, nothing compared to what she sports now.
At that time, three years simply seemed like such a huge gap, and I guess I was simply too imature. She was always just way ahead of me and I felt I could never catch up to her, even though to an actual adult she might have still looked like a child and not that much different from me.
Seducing guys as my sister is my favorite thing to do, especially since they won’t even look at me in my own body. It always gives me such a thrill. Seeing them squirm and try to impress me, just for me to ultimately blow them off anyway is so incredibly delicious. If they only could see the fat, ugly girl they were actually hitting on—their faces would be priceless.
A couple of weeks ago I even got my own brother in the sack. I’m not attracted to him per se, but there is something about the challenge of seducing someone who shouldn’t even be looking at you like. It was just irresistible to me. The greatest challenge yet would be fucking my Dad, but he’s way to old and even thinking about that is just yuck.
In the end though, seducing my brother turned out to be not too difficult, since he had been hopping our sister all the time anyway. That was a bit of a let-down, but the sex was still amazing. He really knows his way around a woman’s body, or at least Katy’s.
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An hour later I arrived at the gym. I was wearing an outfit that I had bought just for my sister’s body. She refused to wear it herself since she always found it too revealing, but well, nothing she can do about it while I’m in charge. I mean, I have to admit, it’s basically just a sports bra that shows off her huge tits and exposes her toned midriff, paired with an incredibly tight pair of yoga pants. I especially love how far these pants are riding up inbetween her butt cheeks. Her ass is practically devouring them.
The moment I stepped into the building I had all he meatheads gawking at me. And who could blame them, when I’m always giving them a reason to, making sure to give them a show in my sister’s body. I guess they must have missed her as much as I did, since I used to be a regular in this gym before my sister moved out.
I started with my usual warm up routine. Every couple of minutes some jock would come up to me, trying to hit on me under the guise of “just giving advice”. I always initially flirt with them, even play a little dumb, only to then crush their feeble little egos by demonstrating how much more I knew about working out than them. Then I blow them off by making it crystal clear that their tiny, roided up dicks will never even get a whiff of my sister’s pussy. They always call me a bitch or a whore, or some other name, but eventually they all walk off deflated since they know that the security around here is pretty tight.
After I was finished with the “entrée”, I began serving the “main course”: squats to show off my sister’s firm ass (with a pair of tits on the side). Considering how much work I put into her booty over the years, I think by now half of it should be legally mine. Well, at least enough to call it “mine”.
By now, more and more guys came to approach me, sometimes even two of them at once. It was so hot seeing them fight over me. I even caught some guys filming me in the reflection of the of the mirror. Meanwhile, I kept teasing them and riling them up, all while having the plausible deniability of “working out“. Even though I was drenched in sweat from all the exertion, it wasn’t responsible for all the wetness on my body, at least not the one inbetween my legs.
I blew off the last guy buzzing around me and started putting away the weights in preparation to go home after a successful “workout”. As my gaze casually travelled around, not looking for anything in particular, my eyes suddenly honed in on what I then decided would become my “dessert”. I undid my ponytail, letting my sweat-drenched hair loose. While I sneaked up on my prey, I seductively swayed my hips, exuding confidence with ever step, and making “my” tits jiggle just the right amount. Over the years I had carefully cultivated and honed the skills to perfectly show of my sister’s body to the fullest. Unfortunately, these skills didn’t transfer to my own body, for obvious reasons.
I licked my luscious lips in anticipation as I came closer and closer to my target: a pale, scrawny, hairless nerd with thick glasses. You might wonder what a hot girl like “me” is doing approaching a “loser” like that. Well, let’s just say I have a thing for nerds. And also, I’m already very familiar with this particular geek. His name is Mark and he actually is in one of my college classes, but so far I didn’t have the confidence to approach him in my own body. In my sister’s body, on the other hand, I practically had an overabundance of it.
He was oblivious to my encroaching presence as he seemed preoccupied with his struggle to lift even the lightest of weights. When he realized that I was approaching him he looked befuddled and just stared at me like a deer in headlights.
“Hey, stud,” I said in a raspy whisper. “I’ve never seen you around here. Do you come here often?” “N-N-No,” he stammered. “I-I j-just started w-w-working out.” God, I love when people get nervous like that. It gets me all wet. Especially when they blush like that. “Oh, really? A hunk like you? Then where did you get these strong arms from?” I said while caressing his bicep—or rather, lack thereof. “A-Are you making fun of me?” “No, of course not,” I laughed, lightly slapping his feeble chest.
To get him on my good side again, I pulled out one of my favorite routines. I intentionally dropped something and then went, “Oopsie. I can really be such a klutz sometimes.” I made a show of it by clearly stepping in front of him, turning around, and then bending over.
For the cherry on top I pushed my ass against his crotch. The second our bodies touched, I could immediately tell how hard he was already. He tried to move away, but I just pushed even deeper into him. For good measure I began grinding against his member, eliciting a moan from him. When I got up I could see that his face was a deep crimson.
From afar I could hear a few men cursing and jeering, wondering why such a “hot chick” was grinding up against such a “pathetic little dweeb” like him. I could barely hide the devilish grin that appeared on “my” face. I stepped closer, pushed his tiny noodle of an arm inbetween my sister’s giant tits, and whispered in his ear, “it seems we have an audience. Would you prefer taking this somewhere private?” Unable to respond, all he could muster was to swallow hard. “I’ll take that as a yes,“ I said giving him a wink. Then I dragged him off to the locker rooms.
On the way over there he made a pathetic attempt at a protest, but even if he had tried to resist earnestly, I was still stronger than him. Finally arriving at our destination, I pushed him into one of the women’s changing rooms and locked the door behind us. This space was so tiny, we could almost feel our steamy breaths on each other’s skin. We were both reeking of sweat.
I pushed my chest out and looked at him expectantly, but he just stood there doing nothing. It was so cute how I had to coax him into everything. I took charge and, with determination, pulled up my sports bra, flopping out my sister’s huge rack. Yet, he still wouldn’t move. Even when I physically placed his hands onto my chest he acted like a dead fish.
“Come on. Play with them,” I commanded. “I want you to.” But still: nothing. Then I firmly grabbed his crotch, which finally seemed to wake him up. “I-I’m sorry. This is my first time,” he said bashfully while he began to clumsily fondle my boobs. It felt a lot like masturbating with your other hand. He was so adorable, which got me insanely hot.
While he kept playing with my Katy’s tits I began rubbing her pussy. At one point he even felt adventurous enough to tweak her nipples, which sparked a surprising amount of pleasure in my sister’s tender flesh. Man, Katy’s body simply feels incredible. If I could, I would never leave.
When I could feel “my” pussy quiver in demand for more, I knew that I was ready. I took his hand off my boobs, turned around, and then quickly pulled down my pants. Leaning against the wall, I stuck out my butt and presented him with my sister’s cleanly shaven folds. “Come on. Put it in. I’m hungry for your meat,” I said, my voice dripping with lust.
Unlike before, I didn’t have to tell him twice this time, which didn’t mean that he handled the situation more skillfully. He had trouble putting his dick in me, as he kept fumbling around, constantly missing the right hole. I giggled, seeing him all flustered like that. “Dammit! I-I’m sorry. T-This is my f-first time,” He kept saying that, which turned me on even more.
“Why don’t you let me handle that?” I said to him. Then I grabbed his shaft and guided it into the right entrance. I gasped as I felt him slowly pushing into me. This nerd was surprisingly well hung. Sure, I had way bigger dicks before, but compared to what you would expect from the rest of his physique, it was enormous.
It seemed that he was finally beginning to grow a pair. He started out very timidly, but with each thrust he gained more confidence, and rammed his prick into me ever more viciously. The more his ferocity increased, the louder I moaned. My ass cheeks jiggled every time his hips slapped against them. With the enormous speed that he was eventually going at, my whole body felt like it was vibrating.
“Yes! Yes! Harder!” I screamed in my sister's voice. I didn’t care if anyone heard us. In fact, I wanted them to hear us. I wanted everyone in this gym to know how much he satisfied me. Especially those troglodytes that kept hitting on me in vain. They should know that they are nothing compared to him.
He must have been close, because I felt him preparing for one big, final thrust. Unfortunately, his clumsiness hadn’t magically dissipated in the past few minutes, as he accidentally slipped out of me and, on his thrust forward, naturally missed the entrance. Instead, his dick slid up inbetween my cheeks and then burst, coating my entire back with his sperm. This last act of derpiness drove me wild and gifted me with an incredible climax. I almost collapsed, because my legs were shaking so much.
We were both breathing hard as we were coming down. When I recovered, I wordlessly pulled my pants up and put Katy’s boobs back into my sports bra. As a goodbye I gave him one final french kiss and said to him, “you were amazing. Let’s do this again some time.” I turned around and just left him standing there in disbelief, his mouth wide open, probably unable to comprehend what just had happened. I left the gym still with his masterpiece painted on my back for all to see.
Katelyn
I got my body back just in time for lunch. My sister returned my body clean and in perfect condition, although it was exhausted from the workout and my nether regions felt suspiciously funny. I was able to spend the afternoon as myself, because, luckily, Robby was occupied with some class project and, well, Dad doesn’t really want to hop me anyway. I spent my free time just lazing around and relaxing, recuperating from all the weeks of stress and whatever shenanigans Chloe was up to earlier. Unfortunately, time flew by way too quickly and soon it was time for my Mom to take over.
Susan
It was finally my turn to hop Katy, which got me nearly giddy. But in the back of my mind, I also felt bad that we all were so greedy when it came to her. She is rarely at home nowadays, and the few times she does come around, she barely has any time to be herself.
In the beginning, when we first found out about her powers, I wasn’t even interested in hopping her. I mean, why would I want to be a child again? And my own daughter at that? I simply did not care for that. But as she grew up and matured into a woman, I got a little curious.
The first time I hopped her was when she had just turned sixteen. She was about to go to a party with her friends when she came downstairs all dolled up. Seeing her like that got me really reminiscent, and I have to admit, a little envious as well. It made me nostalgic for my own youth and my “wilder” years, when I was out and about almost every weekend. So in a moment of weakness, when she wasn’t paying attention, I quickly jumped into her body and then went partying with her friends all night long. The next day she got really mad at me and made me make it up to her, because she had been looking forward to that night for a very long time.
But now she is a full-grown adult, with a job and her own apartement and everything. I still can’t believe how much Katy looks like myself, or at least how I did twenty-five years ago. Hopping her always feels like I’m stepping into a time machine. Goodbye saggy tits, adieu flabby love handles, and au revoir wrinkly skin. Everything about her was so taut and perky.
And the best is: her youthful body was just full of life and energy. Even my husband mentioned that when I’m in her body, there is always a certain glow about “her”. He said it’s like I’m radiating pure happiness.
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It was close to nine p.m. and I was almost ready to go out. I had already applied all of my makeup and done “my” hair. The only thing left was to squeeze my daughter’s nubile body into the tightest dress that she owned. When I finally pulled the straps over her shoulders, I found that her cleavage was spilling out. Did her boobs grow again? I thought she was done with that. I don’t think I was ever this big, at least no while also being this slim. Kids these days are unbelievable.
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The only thing I remember of that night is that I still had a strong buzz going when I arrived home. One strap of my dress had come off long ago, loosely dangling off my shoulder, and almost exposing my daughter’s nipple. I stumbled my way through the darkness as I didn’t want to turn the lights on so that I wouldn’t wake anyone. I even climbed the stairs on all fours just to stay as quiet as possible. Eventually I made my way to the master bedroom, where my husband was snoring in a deep slumber. I just crawled onto the bed and under the blanket, not even bothering to undress.
I don’t know whether it was the residual alcohol, all the guys at the club, or the fact that I was in my daughter’s youthful body, but I was incredibly horny. I tried playing with “myself” so I could finally fall asleep, but that didn’t help. Frustrated from the lack of release I carefully peeled back the blanket. I immediately went for my husbands bottoms, delicately fishing out his big, juicy cock. Even though I could hardly see anything, it looked so delicious and felt so plump in my daughter’s soft hands. Without hesitation I started sucking him off like I had so many times before, in a way that I knew would get him hard in seconds.
I managed to bob my head up and down his shaft only a few times, having hardly any time to enjoy his familiar taste, before he was good to go. I slowly errected myself, making sure not to shift my weight too abruptly. Luckily, my husband was still fast asleep. I swung one leg over, pulled my panties aside, and then lowered myself onto him. I gasped when I felt the tip of his thick member enter our daughter’s dripping wet pussy. I greatly enjoyed every inch of him slowly sliding up inside of me. I was practically impaling myself.
Feeling his girth part our daughter’s young, forbidden folds was simply too much for me: I accidentally let a small moan slip out. I immediately clasped my hands over my mouth and froze any and all of my movements. After a small, silent pause his snoring resumed and I continued on. Eventually I bottomed out and my husband now had his whole sex embedded inside of his own daughter.
I started gently gyrating my hips back and forth, “my” lips rubbing against him in the process. The resulting friction cheered me on to go faster. My husband’s snores soon turned into mumbling and then into moans. I practically devoured his cock, as I was now bouncing up and down on him, swallowing him whole with “my” slippery cunt. In my own body I couldn’t have done that. I’m simply too old now.
At some point he must have been at least half-awake, because he grabbed my hips and started thrusting as he moaned my name. I know it was probably too dark for him to see anything properly, but having him confuse our daughter’s body for myself really gave both my ego and my arousal a huge spike. In that moment I felt really mischievous, and also a little bit naughty, so to tease him I simply moaned, “Oh, yes, Daddy!” His eyes suddenly flew wide open and he sputtered in shock, as he only now realized that he was fucking his own daughter.
He tried to push me off, but he was severly weakend due to all of the pleasure I was giving him. “Wait, Katy! What are you doihhhnggg—oh my God—ooooohhhhhhh…,” he groaned as his creamy load exploded inside of “me”. Unfortunately, “my” body wasn’t satisfied yet, as I desperately kept riding dick, which became more and more limp with every second.
After a couple of deep breaths he seemed to have regained both a clear mind and his strength. He tried to wrestle me off of himself, causing me to lose balance. He lunged to catch me but I only managed to yelp as we both fell off the bed.
Walter
I suddenly found myself lying on something that was both hard and soft at the same time. My mind was hazy and I felt very disoriented. It all happened so fast: one moment I was having sex with my wife, but then suddenly my daughter seemed on top of me. Everything seemed like a dream and I still wasn’t sure whether I was actually awake. On top of that I felt not only drunk but also aroused, and there was something gooey inside of me. My mind was in total chaos.
Then I felt something stirring underneath me. “I’m sorry honey, but could get off of me?” I heard my wife say. I rolled off of her and onto the floor, still unsure what was going on. “Honey, is that you? What happened?” I groaned, my voice sounding off. I rolled over and onto my stomach so I could get up more easily. But somehow I rolled onto two giant pillows that were now squeezed between me and the floor. Then it finally dawned on me: I was in my daughter’s body.
“Wait … why am I in Katy’s body?” I wondered. It finally clicked. “Whatthehell? Whatwereyouthinking?” I slurred my words. “Sshhh, not so loud. You’ll wake the kids,” my wife said. “Susan, what is wrong with you? How could you have sex with me in Katy’s body. This is our daughter for crying out loud?” “I’m sorry,” my wife said with tears welling up in her eyes. “I couldn’t control myself. I was drunk.” “What if she finds out?” I panicked.
I tried standing up, but my knees were just too wobbly for that. “Let’s get you off the floor first,” my wife said as she helped me. My daughter’s underwear felt uncomfortably wet, as it seemed to have caught a large gob of my essence. As I leaned on my wife for support, I could even feel a little bit of it leaking down my leg. “Ugh, I feel disgusting,” I moaned.
My wife helped me get onto the bed and then joined me on the other side, sitting next to me. We kept arguing in hushed voices for about half an hour, debating back and forth how we would handle this situation, but we couldn’t agree on a solution. “I’m terribly sorry about what I did,” she whispered. “Let’s just go to sleep for now and talk more about this tomorrow, okay?” “Fine,” I grumbled. I turned on my side, away from my wife, while she gently stroked my head.
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Susan seemed to have fallen asleep rather quickly as I could hear her snoring not much later. I, on the other hand, had trouble finding rest: I was simply too upset. And besides, “my” loins were still burning with desire, probably because my wife was unable to finish her escapades. I tried fighting it the entire time, but in the end, I cracked. Despite the imense pleasure I got from “playing with myself”, I felt really terrible for violating my own daughter’s body. She should have never been touched like that by her own father.
As my fingers were hastily going in and out, I unwittingly kept pushing my very own seed deeper and deeper inside of her. I was writhing underneath the blanket, inside my daughter’s body, right next to my sleeping wife. That thought finally pushed me over the edge. Trying to stay as quietly as possible, I bit my lip and just “exhaled” deeply. I could feel all that built-up tension melt away. Having found release, my eyes lids suddenly became ver heavy and I was finally able to fall asleep.
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I woke up with a pounding headache the next morning. “Ugh, Susan, honey, I don’t think I feel so good,” I groaned. I flopped my arm over to search for my wife right next to me but ultimately I only found empty space. She must have gotten up already. Groggily I dragged myself out of bed. With my body feeling like a bag of bricks I stumbled all the way to the bathroom. Inside, I turned on the lights and then let out a big yawn while rubbing my eyes.
Looking in the mirror, I blinked and squinted until I was able to focus. But when I finally managed to have a clear look, I was in for a shock: in front of me stood my daughter in the worst state I had ever seen her in. Her hair was a total mess and her makeup smudgy. Both straps of her dress had come loose, exposing her chest. And the hem had curled up around her waist, revealing large, crusty stains on her underwear. The events of last night finally came back, hitting me like a freight train.
I had to grab the sink to balance myself, as I was suddenly hit by a spell of dizziness. My heart was racing and I started hyperventilating. Oh my God, what had we done? What had I done? Images of my and our indecent acts from last night kept flashing in my mind. I felt so disgusted, I almost started vomiting.
I tried forcing myself to calm down by first taking control of my breath. Inhale … exhale … in … and out … in … and out. Slowly I managed to calm down enough to gather some thoughts. The first thing I decided on was to take a shower and clean “myself” up. I did not want our daughter to wake up to her body in such a disgusting state and find out what we did to her like that.
I gulped when I realized that this meant I had to see her naked. I try not to look at her in a sexual way. She is my daughter after all. But it’s hard sometimes, because she looks just like her mother did twenty-five years ago. Last night was the first time ever that I had done something indecent with or inside of her body.
Eventually I had to bite the bullet and began undressing. I tried keeping my eyes shut, but that turned out to be too much of a hindrance. After I was done, I tried to give my daughter at least some amount of decency by crossing her legs and folding her arms over her chest. But unfortunately, this made me hyper-aware of her body parts, as “my” arms were squishing her breasts and “my” thighs kept squeezing her folds. My daughter’s face was now beet red and I looked away in embarrassment.
I realized, that if I was going to do this, then I had to do it quickly, because there was no apparent way around it and the longer it took the worse it would get. I practically jumped into the shower, closed the shower curtain, and turned on the water, all in one swift motion. The second the hot water hit my skin I could quite literally feel the dirt and grime wash away. Relaxation spread all over myself and for a moment I even forgot that I was in my daughter’s body.
Washing her hair and face was no problem, but when it was time for her boobs I felt like a pervert. Just calling them that—“boobs”—gave me a bit of an ick. But I felt even more perverted for enjoying it. I just couldn’t deny how big and soft they were. And how firm her butt was.
I “saved” the worst part for the end: cleaning her private parts. I really didn’t want to after what I did last night, but there was still quite a lot of dried up residue from left inside of her. Reluctantly I began entering my daughter, only one finger at first. As I kept scrubbing her inner walls, “it” responded by quivering and “thanking” me with a tingling sensation. I cursed myself for liking it.
The entire time I fought hard to ignore the “positive feedback” I was getting. But the longer it lasted and the deeper I went, the more I liked it. Eventually I had to stop fooling myself and admit that I wasn’t cleaning anymore, but instead I was getting off in my daughter’s body again. Soon after I peaked and cried out, my daughter’s voice filled with pleasure. I breathed hard as this time it wasn’t just the feeling of water that was washing all over her body.
When I finally came down from my high, I was left with regret and disgust. Even though my daughter’s body was now perfectly clean, my mind felt incredibly dirty.
Katelyn
When I got my body back the day after, my parents acted really fishy. They tried to pretend like nothing happened and were trying to play it off when I asked them directly, but I could cleary tell that something was up by the way they were avoiding eye contact. Reluctantly I returned home in the evening. During the weeks after that, my family kept hopping me less and less, even though I would visit home more often. The few times they did hop me they would do so at odd times and without even asking beforehand, almost like they had planned it.
Also, I noticed that my belly had grown a bit. At first I thought that I was gaining weight, but one weekend, when I was staying home, I realized that I hadn’t had my period in quite some time. The moment that realization hit me, the pieces began falling into place: my parents had hopped me every time I was supposed to be due. Through all the seemingly random hoppings I kind of lost track of my cycle, and generally paid less attention to it.
I immediately did a pregnancy test, which confirmed what I had feared: yes, I was pregnant. My first reaction was disbelief. But when the reality of it all sank in, I became overwhelmed to the point dizziness. After I had some time to digest the news, I became incredibly livid. Not only did they do something so horrendously stupid to me, they also tried to cover up their mistake, dodging any and all responsibility.
Fuming, I drove over to their house to confront them with the facts, getting a hefty speeding ticket on the way there. When I threw the results of my pregnancy test in their faces, they were dead silent. Like before they wouldn’t even look me in the eyes. And every time they did manage to open their pathetic mouths, they were just squirming. It was insanely frustrating. I just barely managed to get out of them that, yes, I was indeed pregnant with my father’s child. Speechless, I just stormed off. I went “no contact” with them and blocked them on all my devices, unsure when or if I ever would speak to them again.
As for the baby that is growing inside of me: I’m very likely not going to keep it. I mean, I wasn’t planning on becoming a mother so soon; I’m not even in a relationship right now. And I sure as hell didn’t plan on having my father’s child. Considering how I was treated in my life so far, I think that I don’t even want to have children—ever. I don’t want them to run the risk of becoming a reverse hopper like me; I wouldn’t want to inflict that on anyone.
Well, right now, the future seems really uncertain.
Katelyn
My family sucks. I do love them, but sometimes they just suck. Thanks to them my life is usually a total mess. You see, I’m a reverse body hopper. What that means is, my family can possess my body so long as they collide with me at a high enough velocity. I then black out completely and wake up again whenever they decide to leave. Thank God this only works with my family and not with total strangers or my life would be over.
They constantly just take my body, and even when they ask they just keep begging and pleading until I finally give in. Well, the only exception is my Dad. He is just the greatest. He’s never even asked to take over my body. In fact, I’ve asked him to hop me before. He would often take over for me when I was sick or when my period was really bad. He’s the only one I can trust to take care of me and respect my body.
I mean, despite how that all sounds, they do love me, I know they do. That’s why they always try to make it up to me, by buying me gifts or doing stuff for me, like chores and my homework, or hitting the gym. I just wish I could spend some time around my family in peace and simply enjoy their company.
When I talk to my friends about it they make a way big of a deal out of it. It’s not like I feel violated or anything, more like just tired and annoyed. I’m probably just so used to it, even though I shouldn’t be, because it’s been going on for so long, longer that I can even remember. Sometimes it makes me feel like public property, like a shared family car that everyone wants to take for a ride. I can’t even imagine the countless amount of hours of my life that I lost to them.
But I guess it’s gotten better since I moved out, simply for the fact that I’m now out of their reach. Although that still doesn’t stop them from asking if they could borrow “me” for a while. Well, at least it’s easier to say “no” over the phone or via text. And as an added bonus, I don’t have to take the pill anymore. I never liked taking it as it messes with my hormones too much. I only took it as a safety precaution so that my family couldn’t do anything too stupid while they were inside of me.
Actually, it’s been a while since I visited my family, ’cause I’ve been so busy at work. I haven’t met all of them yet, since I arrived at my parent’s house very late last night. So far, I’ve only got to meet Mom and Dad. Maybe I’ll see Robby and Chloe at breakfast or whenever they decide to get up.
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Waking up from my daydream, I realized that I had been in the shower for way too long. I turned off the water, reached for my towel, and began drying myself off. I always hated that part, because it made me miss the bliss and warmth of the hot water. Afterwards I got out of the shower and wrapped the towel tightly around my body. Then I stepped into hallway, closed the door behind myself and—
Robert
“Hihi. Welcome home, ‘sis’”, I giggled in my sister’s voice. I quickly flitted off to her room and tightly locked the door behind me. I immediately dropped the towel that “I” was wearing, revealing my older sister’s body in all her naked glory. “Oh, ‘Katy’. You can’t imagine how much I missed ‘you’”, I said, giving “myself” a big hug, squishing my sister’s enormous chest in the process.
I sauntered over to Katy’s full-length mirror, enjoying the sway of her hips with every step. I thoroughly looked her over from head to toe. Her body was simply perfect. Especially her boobs. “Man, I just love your huge rack,“ I told my “sister” while giving her giant globes a firm squeeze. I just couldn’t help myself.
It’s not like I have the hots for my sister. To me, her mind and her body are two separate things. It’s just an unfortunate coincidence that she happened to be a reverse body hopper. I mean, I don’t have a thing for my younger sister or my mom. But then again, neither of them are reverse hoppers.
By now, I’ve hopped my sister so often, that to me it doesn’t really feel like I’m wearing her body. It just feels like I’m being me—a different me. I’ve hopped her since I was a child, even before I hit puberty. The first time was a total accident, and back then she found it cute and adorable, maybe because I was, and also because she was always pretty motherly towards me; she’s my older sister after all. But ever since we, especially I, hit puberty, she disliked me hopping her more and more.
I guess it was bad timing that I discovered her ability when I did, which is probably the reason why I am attracted to her body. In a way you could say that we developed alongside each other, even though she had a two-year headstart. I mean, not many people get to experience growing up both as a boy and a girl, and in more than one way I am thankful for that. Because of her I know what it feels like to become a woman and I think that made us closer than any other siblings. Over the years, I got to experience the swelling of her breasts and the widening of her hips, among other things. And I always loved how her body felt so much softer. Maybe I was secretly envious of that, or maybe I just enjoyed the feeling, I don’t even know.
Nevertheless, I’m a guy afterall and as a hormonal teenager I took advantage of that unique opportunity every way I could. My sister is the reason why, so far, I’ve only dated girls who are slightly older than me. I hopped her way more often than she even knows. There were times when I would sneak into her bedroom almost every. Thankfully, now that I’m older and in college, I have myself much better under control. Although it’s still hard to resist hopping her sometimes. But then again, that whole experience really taught me how to please a woman.
I’m ashamed to admit it, but a few weeks ago I even had sex with her when our little sister was wearing her. I just couldn’t help myself. The combination of my preexisting attraction to her body and my little sister coming on to me was simply too much for me not to give in. To this day, it was still the best sex I ever had. Sometimes, when the sex with a girlfriend gets a little boring, I imagine my sister in her place, which always perks me up again. One time I even accidentally said her name, which was the end of that relationship.
By now, “I” was already dripping wet as I had been rubbing “my” crotch and massaging “my” breasts the whole time I stood in front of the mirror. Feeling that my knees were getting weak, I hurried over and threw myself onto Katy’s bed. There I really went at it by reaching deep inside of my sister’s hole and groping her boobs and tweaking her nipples. I planned on giving her a warm welcome-home present, so I kept frantically sloshing two of her fingers in and out of her dripping wet cunt. After a few minutes of expert stimulation, I felt that her body was on the cusp of an orgasm and abruptly jumped out of her.
Katelyn
Like so many times before, I suddenly woke up in my room. I was lying on my bed, one hand clutching my breast, the other burried inside of me, the latter keept penetrating me, seemingly all on its own. Without a warning, a wave of pleasure hit me. A warm tingling bloomed between my legs and then ratiated outwards, coursing through my entire body. It all happened so fast, I couldn’t stop myself from letting out a long, high-pitched moan. The sudden and intense pleasure made me squirt so much, I soiled both my hand and my bedsheets.
“Welcome home, sis,” my brother laughed with a big, dirty grin plastered across his face. “Robby, you asshole!” I yelled at him. As I pulled my hand from my vagina, strings of the gooey slime that coated my fingers followed it. “Ew, you’re such a disgusting pig.” “Why? Don’t you like your ‘present’?” he asked while he made a run for the door. “You could’ve at least cleaned up after yourself,” I tried to call after him, but he had already fled my room. “Great. Now I have to take another shower.”
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All clean again, I joined my parents at the breakfast table. The table was overflowing with food as my Mom had really gone all out to celebrate my long-awaited return home. “Did you sleep well, honey?” my mother asked. “Oh, yes, fantastic. It felt really great to sleep in my old bed again,” I said while I loaded my plate with waffles and fruits. “What was all that ruckus about earlier?” my father grumbled. “Just Robby being the prick that he usually is.” “Hmpf. I guess I need to have a word with him later.”
“Katyyyyy!” I heard my little sister yell as she ran towards me. I hadn’t even managed to get the first bite of my breakfast when she already gave me a big hug. “Oh, you don’t know how much I missed you, sis!” “Did you really miss me or just my body?” I retorted. “Of course I missed you, silly. You’re my favorite sister.” “I’m your only sister,” I interjected. “Right. But since you brought it up: can I borrow ‘you’ today? Just for this morning, I promise. It’s been way too long since the last time.”
“Leave your sister alone, Chloe,” my Dad commanded. “You’ll make her feel not welcome in her own home. No wonder she is hardly here.” “Oh, she doesn’t mind, Daddy. Right sis?” she said, looking at me with her huge puppy dog eyes. “Yes, I do.” “Come on, Katy. Please? Just for a little bit!” “No,” I responded flatly. “Pleeeeeaaaase. I’ll even go to the gym for you. Remember how much you hate doing that?” “No, I don’t. You’re just making shit up. But, hmm, well. It’s been forever since I had any form of exercise. Work kept me really busy lately,” I pondered aloud. “Pretty please?” she said pouting her lips. “Ugh, fine, I guess,” I reletend. Chloe squealed in response.
“Sweety,” my Mom interjected timidly. “I’m sorry, this might be bad timing and come off as rude, but would you mind if tonight—”. “Yes, yes, it’s fine,” I interrupted her annoyed. “You can all ‘borrow’ my body. But get it out of your systems today, ’cause there will be no hopping tomorrow! I—”
Chloe
“Chloe!” my Mom scolded me. “You could have at least let your sister eat breakfast herself,”. “But Moooom,” I whined in my older sister’s voice. “You heard her. She said it was okay.” I wolfed down my sister’s breakfast as fast as I could and then raced up the stairs and into Katy’s room, leaving my speechless parents behind.
Finally behind closed doors I began rubbing my sister’s flat belly. I loved doing that so much, her pussy always immediately begins to tingle in response. Unfortunately, I wasn’t as blessed in the looks departement as my older sister was. As far back as I can remember I have been chubby. And with each year, it’s gotten worse. I can’t seem to lose weight, no matter what I try. Which makes me feel jealous of her sometimes, even though I know that it isn’t her fault.
In contrast to mine, her body is really slim and always feels so light and full of energy. It even makes going to the gym a lot of fun. In my own body it is just pure torture. And the reactions I get from other people are just so different. When I’m her, people seem to adore me, but when I’m myself, they seem to despise me. Even though I’m the same person; only my looks change.
That’s the main reason why I’ve been hopping her since I was little. Also, being in her body always made me feel so mature and grown-up. I always felt especially proud when I was wearing her big boobs. I loved showing them off and catching someone trying to secretly glance at them (or sometimes even outright staring). Back then they seemed enormous, especially compared to, what I considered, my own underdeveloped body. In hindsight, when I look at them now in old photos, they don’t seem that big. Sure, they were bigger than those of other girls her age, but still, nothing compared to what she sports now.
At that time, three years simply seemed like such a huge gap, and I guess I was simply too imature. She was always just way ahead of me and I felt I could never catch up to her, even though to an actual adult she might have still looked like a child and not that much different from me.
Seducing guys as my sister is my favorite thing to do, especially since they won’t even look at me in my own body. It always gives me such a thrill. Seeing them squirm and try to impress me, just for me to ultimately blow them off anyway is so incredibly delicious. If they only could see the fat, ugly girl they were actually hitting on—their faces would be priceless.
A couple of weeks ago I even got my own brother in the sack. I’m not attracted to him per se, but there is something about the challenge of seducing someone who shouldn’t even be looking at you like. It was just irresistible to me. The greatest challenge yet would be fucking my Dad, but he’s way to old and even thinking about that is just yuck.
In the end though, seducing my brother turned out to be not too difficult, since he had been hopping our sister all the time anyway. That was a bit of a let-down, but the sex was still amazing. He really knows his way around a woman’s body, or at least Katy’s.
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An hour later I arrived at the gym. I was wearing an outfit that I had bought just for my sister’s body. She refused to wear it herself since she always found it too revealing, but well, nothing she can do about it while I’m in charge. I mean, I have to admit, it’s basically just a sports bra that shows off her huge tits and exposes her toned midriff, paired with an incredibly tight pair of yoga pants. I especially love how far these pants are riding up inbetween her butt cheeks. Her ass is practically devouring them.
The moment I stepped into the building I had all he meatheads gawking at me. And who could blame them, when I’m always giving them a reason to, making sure to give them a show in my sister’s body. I guess they must have missed her as much as I did, since I used to be a regular in this gym before my sister moved out.
I started with my usual warm up routine. Every couple of minutes some jock would come up to me, trying to hit on me under the guise of “just giving advice”. I always initially flirt with them, even play a little dumb, only to then crush their feeble little egos by demonstrating how much more I knew about working out than them. Then I blow them off by making it crystal clear that their tiny, roided up dicks will never even get a whiff of my sister’s pussy. They always call me a bitch or a whore, or some other name, but eventually they all walk off deflated since they know that the security around here is pretty tight.
After I was finished with the “entrée”, I began serving the “main course”: squats to show off my sister’s firm ass (with a pair of tits on the side). Considering how much work I put into her booty over the years, I think by now half of it should be legally mine. Well, at least enough to call it “mine”.
By now, more and more guys came to approach me, sometimes even two of them at once. It was so hot seeing them fight over me. I even caught some guys filming me in the reflection of the of the mirror. Meanwhile, I kept teasing them and riling them up, all while having the plausible deniability of “working out“. Even though I was drenched in sweat from all the exertion, it wasn’t responsible for all the wetness on my body, at least not the one inbetween my legs.
I blew off the last guy buzzing around me and started putting away the weights in preparation to go home after a successful “workout”. As my gaze casually travelled around, not looking for anything in particular, my eyes suddenly honed in on what I then decided would become my “dessert”. I undid my ponytail, letting my sweat-drenched hair loose. While I sneaked up on my prey, I seductively swayed my hips, exuding confidence with ever step, and making “my” tits jiggle just the right amount. Over the years I had carefully cultivated and honed the skills to perfectly show of my sister’s body to the fullest. Unfortunately, these skills didn’t transfer to my own body, for obvious reasons.
I licked my luscious lips in anticipation as I came closer and closer to my target: a pale, scrawny, hairless nerd with thick glasses. You might wonder what a hot girl like “me” is doing approaching a “loser” like that. Well, let’s just say I have a thing for nerds. And also, I’m already very familiar with this particular geek. His name is Mark and he actually is in one of my college classes, but so far I didn’t have the confidence to approach him in my own body. In my sister’s body, on the other hand, I practically had an overabundance of it.
He was oblivious to my encroaching presence as he seemed preoccupied with his struggle to lift even the lightest of weights. When he realized that I was approaching him he looked befuddled and just stared at me like a deer in headlights.
“Hey, stud,” I said in a raspy whisper. “I’ve never seen you around here. Do you come here often?” “N-N-No,” he stammered. “I-I j-just started w-w-working out.” God, I love when people get nervous like that. It gets me all wet. Especially when they blush like that. “Oh, really? A hunk like you? Then where did you get these strong arms from?” I said while caressing his bicep—or rather, lack thereof. “A-Are you making fun of me?” “No, of course not,” I laughed, lightly slapping his feeble chest.
To get him on my good side again, I pulled out one of my favorite routines. I intentionally dropped something and then went, “Oopsie. I can really be such a klutz sometimes.” I made a show of it by clearly stepping in front of him, turning around, and then bending over.
For the cherry on top I pushed my ass against his crotch. The second our bodies touched, I could immediately tell how hard he was already. He tried to move away, but I just pushed even deeper into him. For good measure I began grinding against his member, eliciting a moan from him. When I got up I could see that his face was a deep crimson.
From afar I could hear a few men cursing and jeering, wondering why such a “hot chick” was grinding up against such a “pathetic little dweeb” like him. I could barely hide the devilish grin that appeared on “my” face. I stepped closer, pushed his tiny noodle of an arm inbetween my sister’s giant tits, and whispered in his ear, “it seems we have an audience. Would you prefer taking this somewhere private?” Unable to respond, all he could muster was to swallow hard. “I’ll take that as a yes,“ I said giving him a wink. Then I dragged him off to the locker rooms.
On the way over there he made a pathetic attempt at a protest, but even if he had tried to resist earnestly, I was still stronger than him. Finally arriving at our destination, I pushed him into one of the women’s changing rooms and locked the door behind us. This space was so tiny, we could almost feel our steamy breaths on each other’s skin. We were both reeking of sweat.
I pushed my chest out and looked at him expectantly, but he just stood there doing nothing. It was so cute how I had to coax him into everything. I took charge and, with determination, pulled up my sports bra, flopping out my sister’s huge rack. Yet, he still wouldn’t move. Even when I physically placed his hands onto my chest he acted like a dead fish.
“Come on. Play with them,” I commanded. “I want you to.” But still: nothing. Then I firmly grabbed his crotch, which finally seemed to wake him up. “I-I’m sorry. This is my first time,” he said bashfully while he began to clumsily fondle my boobs. It felt a lot like masturbating with your other hand. He was so adorable, which got me insanely hot.
While he kept playing with my Katy’s tits I began rubbing her pussy. At one point he even felt adventurous enough to tweak her nipples, which sparked a surprising amount of pleasure in my sister’s tender flesh. Man, Katy’s body simply feels incredible. If I could, I would never leave.
When I could feel “my” pussy quiver in demand for more, I knew that I was ready. I took his hand off my boobs, turned around, and then quickly pulled down my pants. Leaning against the wall, I stuck out my butt and presented him with my sister’s cleanly shaven folds. “Come on. Put it in. I’m hungry for your meat,” I said, my voice dripping with lust.
Unlike before, I didn’t have to tell him twice this time, which didn’t mean that he handled the situation more skillfully. He had trouble putting his dick in me, as he kept fumbling around, constantly missing the right hole. I giggled, seeing him all flustered like that. “Dammit! I-I’m sorry. T-This is my f-first time,” He kept saying that, which turned me on even more.
“Why don’t you let me handle that?” I said to him. Then I grabbed his shaft and guided it into the right entrance. I gasped as I felt him slowly pushing into me. This nerd was surprisingly well hung. Sure, I had way bigger dicks before, but compared to what you would expect from the rest of his physique, it was enormous.
It seemed that he was finally beginning to grow a pair. He started out very timidly, but with each thrust he gained more confidence, and rammed his prick into me ever more viciously. The more his ferocity increased, the louder I moaned. My ass cheeks jiggled every time his hips slapped against them. With the enormous speed that he was eventually going at, my whole body felt like it was vibrating.
“Yes! Yes! Harder!” I screamed in my sister's voice. I didn’t care if anyone heard us. In fact, I wanted them to hear us. I wanted everyone in this gym to know how much he satisfied me. Especially those troglodytes that kept hitting on me in vain. They should know that they are nothing compared to him.
He must have been close, because I felt him preparing for one big, final thrust. Unfortunately, his clumsiness hadn’t magically dissipated in the past few minutes, as he accidentally slipped out of me and, on his thrust forward, naturally missed the entrance. Instead, his dick slid up inbetween my cheeks and then burst, coating my entire back with his sperm. This last act of derpiness drove me wild and gifted me with an incredible climax. I almost collapsed, because my legs were shaking so much.
We were both breathing hard as we were coming down. When I recovered, I wordlessly pulled my pants up and put Katy’s boobs back into my sports bra. As a goodbye I gave him one final french kiss and said to him, “you were amazing. Let’s do this again some time.” I turned around and just left him standing there in disbelief, his mouth wide open, probably unable to comprehend what just had happened. I left the gym still with his masterpiece painted on my back for all to see.
Katelyn
I got my body back just in time for lunch. My sister returned my body clean and in perfect condition, although it was exhausted from the workout and my nether regions felt suspiciously funny. I was able to spend the afternoon as myself, because, luckily, Robby was occupied with some class project and, well, Dad doesn’t really want to hop me anyway. I spent my free time just lazing around and relaxing, recuperating from all the weeks of stress and whatever shenanigans Chloe was up to earlier. Unfortunately, time flew by way too quickly and soon it was time for my Mom to take over.
Susan
It was finally my turn to hop Katy, which got me nearly giddy. But in the back of my mind, I also felt bad that we all were so greedy when it came to her. She is rarely at home nowadays, and the few times she does come around, she barely has any time to be herself.
In the beginning, when we first found out about her powers, I wasn’t even interested in hopping her. I mean, why would I want to be a child again? And my own daughter at that? I simply did not care for that. But as she grew up and matured into a woman, I got a little curious.
The first time I hopped her was when she had just turned sixteen. She was about to go to a party with her friends when she came downstairs all dolled up. Seeing her like that got me really reminiscent, and I have to admit, a little envious as well. It made me nostalgic for my own youth and my “wilder” years, when I was out and about almost every weekend. So in a moment of weakness, when she wasn’t paying attention, I quickly jumped into her body and then went partying with her friends all night long. The next day she got really mad at me and made me make it up to her, because she had been looking forward to that night for a very long time.
But now she is a full-grown adult, with a job and her own apartement and everything. I still can’t believe how much Katy looks like myself, or at least how I did twenty-five years ago. Hopping her always feels like I’m stepping into a time machine. Goodbye saggy tits, adieu flabby love handles, and au revoir wrinkly skin. Everything about her was so taut and perky.
And the best is: her youthful body was just full of life and energy. Even my husband mentioned that when I’m in her body, there is always a certain glow about “her”. He said it’s like I’m radiating pure happiness.
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It was close to nine p.m. and I was almost ready to go out. I had already applied all of my makeup and done “my” hair. The only thing left was to squeeze my daughter’s nubile body into the tightest dress that she owned. When I finally pulled the straps over her shoulders, I found that her cleavage was spilling out. Did her boobs grow again? I thought she was done with that. I don’t think I was ever this big, at least no while also being this slim. Kids these days are unbelievable.
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The only thing I remember of that night is that I still had a strong buzz going when I arrived home. One strap of my dress had come off long ago, loosely dangling off my shoulder, and almost exposing my daughter’s nipple. I stumbled my way through the darkness as I didn’t want to turn the lights on so that I wouldn’t wake anyone. I even climbed the stairs on all fours just to stay as quiet as possible. Eventually I made my way to the master bedroom, where my husband was snoring in a deep slumber. I just crawled onto the bed and under the blanket, not even bothering to undress.
I don’t know whether it was the residual alcohol, all the guys at the club, or the fact that I was in my daughter’s youthful body, but I was incredibly horny. I tried playing with “myself” so I could finally fall asleep, but that didn’t help. Frustrated from the lack of release I carefully peeled back the blanket. I immediately went for my husbands bottoms, delicately fishing out his big, juicy cock. Even though I could hardly see anything, it looked so delicious and felt so plump in my daughter’s soft hands. Without hesitation I started sucking him off like I had so many times before, in a way that I knew would get him hard in seconds.
I managed to bob my head up and down his shaft only a few times, having hardly any time to enjoy his familiar taste, before he was good to go. I slowly errected myself, making sure not to shift my weight too abruptly. Luckily, my husband was still fast asleep. I swung one leg over, pulled my panties aside, and then lowered myself onto him. I gasped when I felt the tip of his thick member enter our daughter’s dripping wet pussy. I greatly enjoyed every inch of him slowly sliding up inside of me. I was practically impaling myself.
Feeling his girth part our daughter’s young, forbidden folds was simply too much for me: I accidentally let a small moan slip out. I immediately clasped my hands over my mouth and froze any and all of my movements. After a small, silent pause his snoring resumed and I continued on. Eventually I bottomed out and my husband now had his whole sex embedded inside of his own daughter.
I started gently gyrating my hips back and forth, “my” lips rubbing against him in the process. The resulting friction cheered me on to go faster. My husband’s snores soon turned into mumbling and then into moans. I practically devoured his cock, as I was now bouncing up and down on him, swallowing him whole with “my” slippery cunt. In my own body I couldn’t have done that. I’m simply too old now.
At some point he must have been at least half-awake, because he grabbed my hips and started thrusting as he moaned my name. I know it was probably too dark for him to see anything properly, but having him confuse our daughter’s body for myself really gave both my ego and my arousal a huge spike. In that moment I felt really mischievous, and also a little bit naughty, so to tease him I simply moaned, “Oh, yes, Daddy!” His eyes suddenly flew wide open and he sputtered in shock, as he only now realized that he was fucking his own daughter.
He tried to push me off, but he was severly weakend due to all of the pleasure I was giving him. “Wait, Katy! What are you doihhhnggg—oh my God—ooooohhhhhhh…,” he groaned as his creamy load exploded inside of “me”. Unfortunately, “my” body wasn’t satisfied yet, as I desperately kept riding dick, which became more and more limp with every second.
After a couple of deep breaths he seemed to have regained both a clear mind and his strength. He tried to wrestle me off of himself, causing me to lose balance. He lunged to catch me but I only managed to yelp as we both fell off the bed.
Walter
I suddenly found myself lying on something that was both hard and soft at the same time. My mind was hazy and I felt very disoriented. It all happened so fast: one moment I was having sex with my wife, but then suddenly my daughter seemed on top of me. Everything seemed like a dream and I still wasn’t sure whether I was actually awake. On top of that I felt not only drunk but also aroused, and there was something gooey inside of me. My mind was in total chaos.
Then I felt something stirring underneath me. “I’m sorry honey, but could get off of me?” I heard my wife say. I rolled off of her and onto the floor, still unsure what was going on. “Honey, is that you? What happened?” I groaned, my voice sounding off. I rolled over and onto my stomach so I could get up more easily. But somehow I rolled onto two giant pillows that were now squeezed between me and the floor. Then it finally dawned on me: I was in my daughter’s body.
“Wait … why am I in Katy’s body?” I wondered. It finally clicked. “Whatthehell? Whatwereyouthinking?” I slurred my words. “Sshhh, not so loud. You’ll wake the kids,” my wife said. “Susan, what is wrong with you? How could you have sex with me in Katy’s body. This is our daughter for crying out loud?” “I’m sorry,” my wife said with tears welling up in her eyes. “I couldn’t control myself. I was drunk.” “What if she finds out?” I panicked.
I tried standing up, but my knees were just too wobbly for that. “Let’s get you off the floor first,” my wife said as she helped me. My daughter’s underwear felt uncomfortably wet, as it seemed to have caught a large gob of my essence. As I leaned on my wife for support, I could even feel a little bit of it leaking down my leg. “Ugh, I feel disgusting,” I moaned.
My wife helped me get onto the bed and then joined me on the other side, sitting next to me. We kept arguing in hushed voices for about half an hour, debating back and forth how we would handle this situation, but we couldn’t agree on a solution. “I’m terribly sorry about what I did,” she whispered. “Let’s just go to sleep for now and talk more about this tomorrow, okay?” “Fine,” I grumbled. I turned on my side, away from my wife, while she gently stroked my head.
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Susan seemed to have fallen asleep rather quickly as I could hear her snoring not much later. I, on the other hand, had trouble finding rest: I was simply too upset. And besides, “my” loins were still burning with desire, probably because my wife was unable to finish her escapades. I tried fighting it the entire time, but in the end, I cracked. Despite the imense pleasure I got from “playing with myself”, I felt really terrible for violating my own daughter’s body. She should have never been touched like that by her own father.
As my fingers were hastily going in and out, I unwittingly kept pushing my very own seed deeper and deeper inside of her. I was writhing underneath the blanket, inside my daughter’s body, right next to my sleeping wife. That thought finally pushed me over the edge. Trying to stay as quietly as possible, I bit my lip and just “exhaled” deeply. I could feel all that built-up tension melt away. Having found release, my eyes lids suddenly became ver heavy and I was finally able to fall asleep.
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I woke up with a pounding headache the next morning. “Ugh, Susan, honey, I don’t think I feel so good,” I groaned. I flopped my arm over to search for my wife right next to me but ultimately I only found empty space. She must have gotten up already. Groggily I dragged myself out of bed. With my body feeling like a bag of bricks I stumbled all the way to the bathroom. Inside, I turned on the lights and then let out a big yawn while rubbing my eyes.
Looking in the mirror, I blinked and squinted until I was able to focus. But when I finally managed to have a clear look, I was in for a shock: in front of me stood my daughter in the worst state I had ever seen her in. Her hair was a total mess and her makeup smudgy. Both straps of her dress had come loose, exposing her chest. And the hem had curled up around her waist, revealing large, crusty stains on her underwear. The events of last night finally came back, hitting me like a freight train.
I had to grab the sink to balance myself, as I was suddenly hit by a spell of dizziness. My heart was racing and I started hyperventilating. Oh my God, what had we done? What had I done? Images of my and our indecent acts from last night kept flashing in my mind. I felt so disgusted, I almost started vomiting.
I tried forcing myself to calm down by first taking control of my breath. Inhale … exhale … in … and out … in … and out. Slowly I managed to calm down enough to gather some thoughts. The first thing I decided on was to take a shower and clean “myself” up. I did not want our daughter to wake up to her body in such a disgusting state and find out what we did to her like that.
I gulped when I realized that this meant I had to see her naked. I try not to look at her in a sexual way. She is my daughter after all. But it’s hard sometimes, because she looks just like her mother did twenty-five years ago. Last night was the first time ever that I had done something indecent with or inside of her body.
Eventually I had to bite the bullet and began undressing. I tried keeping my eyes shut, but that turned out to be too much of a hindrance. After I was done, I tried to give my daughter at least some amount of decency by crossing her legs and folding her arms over her chest. But unfortunately, this made me hyper-aware of her body parts, as “my” arms were squishing her breasts and “my” thighs kept squeezing her folds. My daughter’s face was now beet red and I looked away in embarrassment.
I realized, that if I was going to do this, then I had to do it quickly, because there was no apparent way around it and the longer it took the worse it would get. I practically jumped into the shower, closed the shower curtain, and turned on the water, all in one swift motion. The second the hot water hit my skin I could quite literally feel the dirt and grime wash away. Relaxation spread all over myself and for a moment I even forgot that I was in my daughter’s body.
Washing her hair and face was no problem, but when it was time for her boobs I felt like a pervert. Just calling them that—“boobs”—gave me a bit of an ick. But I felt even more perverted for enjoying it. I just couldn’t deny how big and soft they were. And how firm her butt was.
I “saved” the worst part for the end: cleaning her private parts. I really didn’t want to after what I did last night, but there was still quite a lot of dried up residue from left inside of her. Reluctantly I began entering my daughter, only one finger at first. As I kept scrubbing her inner walls, “it” responded by quivering and “thanking” me with a tingling sensation. I cursed myself for liking it.
The entire time I fought hard to ignore the “positive feedback” I was getting. But the longer it lasted and the deeper I went, the more I liked it. Eventually I had to stop fooling myself and admit that I wasn’t cleaning anymore, but instead I was getting off in my daughter’s body again. Soon after I peaked and cried out, my daughter’s voice filled with pleasure. I breathed hard as this time it wasn’t just the feeling of water that was washing all over her body.
When I finally came down from my high, I was left with regret and disgust. Even though my daughter’s body was now perfectly clean, my mind felt incredibly dirty.
Katelyn
When I got my body back the day after, my parents acted really fishy. They tried to pretend like nothing happened and were trying to play it off when I asked them directly, but I could cleary tell that something was up by the way they were avoiding eye contact. Reluctantly I returned home in the evening. During the weeks after that, my family kept hopping me less and less, even though I would visit home more often. The few times they did hop me they would do so at odd times and without even asking beforehand, almost like they had planned it.
Also, I noticed that my belly had grown a bit. At first I thought that I was gaining weight, but one weekend, when I was staying home, I realized that I hadn’t had my period in quite some time. The moment that realization hit me, the pieces began falling into place: my parents had hopped me every time I was supposed to be due. Through all the seemingly random hoppings I kind of lost track of my cycle, and generally paid less attention to it.
I immediately did a pregnancy test, which confirmed what I had feared: yes, I was pregnant. My first reaction was disbelief. But when the reality of it all sank in, I became overwhelmed to the point dizziness. After I had some time to digest the news, I became incredibly livid. Not only did they do something so horrendously stupid to me, they also tried to cover up their mistake, dodging any and all responsibility.
Fuming, I drove over to their house to confront them with the facts, getting a hefty speeding ticket on the way there. When I threw the results of my pregnancy test in their faces, they were dead silent. Like before they wouldn’t even look me in the eyes. And every time they did manage to open their pathetic mouths, they were just squirming. It was insanely frustrating. I just barely managed to get out of them that, yes, I was indeed pregnant with my father’s child. Speechless, I just stormed off. I went “no contact” with them and blocked them on all my devices, unsure when or if I ever would speak to them again.
As for the baby that is growing inside of me: I’m very likely not going to keep it. I mean, I wasn’t planning on becoming a mother so soon; I’m not even in a relationship right now. And I sure as hell didn’t plan on having my father’s child. Considering how I was treated in my life so far, I think that I don’t even want to have children—ever. I don’t want them to run the risk of becoming a reverse hopper like me; I wouldn’t want to inflict that on anyone.
Well, right now, the future seems really uncertain.
possession
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This Shudder one shot takes place between Shudder: The College Years and The Last Shapeshifter. I have tried to write all but the epilogue in a way that if you haven't read those you'll be able to understand what's going on.
It was Richard Johnson’s birthday, and he was a man on a mission. He was going to pick up a beautiful woman in a hotel bar using only his appearance and charm. He hadn’t needed to rely on those attributes in a very long time, but still managed to have a different woman in his bed every night. That was one of the perks to being married to a bodyhopper.
For the ten years that she’d been a bodyhopper, Nancy Johnson loved bringing home women that would entice her husband to fuck her senseless. If a pretty cashier caught his eye, or the cute teller at the bank, or a seductive college cheerleader, or one of the many local milfs, Nancy would make sure each of their bodies spent some very intimate time with her man. She’d even gone on a few trips to bring in some celebrities that he’d crushed on forever.
Nancy became bodyhopper during an experiment run by her twin children, Derek and Aubrey. They’d used an electrical charge to spark a gene inside of her. They knew it was there, because it ran in their family. Once activated, she gained the ability to pass her soul from one body to the next. In doing so, she gained access to that person’s mind and could pass for them with the greatest of ease. She had used it to seduce her husband, and eventually persuaded him to leave her aging body behind.
The couple were still very much in love, and when Nancy wasn’t fucking her husband’s brains out in a body typically younger than her previous one, they were enjoying hobbies and conversations that were akin to people who had been together for many years. They didn’t go out on many dates though since Nancy was usually in the body of a woman in her 20’s that could have been Richard’s granddaughter. It was here that the trouble started.
A week ago Nancy had gently teased her husband while in the guise of a cute, blonde 21 year old. She told him he’d never be able to pick up someone like her in real life because of the age gap. She thought it would turn him on. One of his favorite things was when she brought home a young woman and began calling him ‘Daddy.’ Perhaps because his 55th birthday was a week away, or the fact that they could no longer grow old together, he took it poorly.
“Age is just a number,” he snapped back. “I could go into a bar, any bar, and have a woman on my arm by the end of the night.”
Nancy had then made the catastrophic mistake of laughing at this remark. The idea of her husband with his wrinkles and gray hair going to a club and using his cheesy lines on a woman to take her back home was honestly absurd to her.
Richard’s pride took a hit, and he went to sleep on the couch that night, and no amount of cajoling or seduction could get him to return. This was also a blow to Nancy, because a bodyhopper continually craved sex. It seemed to be part of the gene. In instances like these, she’d had to seek other options. In that case, she’d taken the blonde home and fucked her boyfriend.
Nancy fucked a lot of boyfriends and husbands when she inevitably returned a host body. Richard knew this of these indiscretions, but also knew that as horny as he often was, his wife had an itch that he couldn’t always scratch, especially as he got older. He’d never resented her for it, because he’d been around a few bodyhoppers the last decade. Derek was one, and like Nancy, no longer had a body of his own. Aubrey was too, but had to keep her body hooked up to life support if she ever hopped someone.
Then there was the third bodyhopper they all knew. The one who had passed the gene on to so many people over the last few centuries. His name was Nevyn, and he’d almost ruined all of their lives.
Nevyn had possessed Nancy for a few months long ago, living with the Johnsons and teasing Derek relentlessly. But after Nevyn lost his bodyhopping power and became stuck in Derek’s body, he’d briefly aligned himself with the Johnsons in the pursuit of getting Derek his body back. They’d studied the gene and made several breakthroughs, and somewhere during this process, Nevyn felt sidelined, and eventually betrayed. He used what he knew to get his powers back by himself, which led to a close friend of the Johnsons named Bekka to lose her life, although the twins often spoke of her like she was still alive.
Nevyn’s actions spurred the twins along two different paths that ran parallel to each other. Aubrey continued unlocking the secrets of the bodyswapping gene to try and find a way to track it, while Derek pursued Nevyn by thinking like him, and looking for his telltale signatures in society.
A month ago, Derek had success, and had intercepted Nevyn. In a phone call, Derek had given his parents the good news that it was finally over.
“Nevyn’s dead. He knew I was chasing him and he ran into traffic. A second later he was hit by a bus. After all this time, that’s how it ends. It’s so strange. We finally all have our lives back.”
The Johnsons had all moved on as best they could, with Aubrey stating she was going back to college to get her doctorate, and Derek possibly moving back home.
But tonight, none of this was on Richard’s mind. Because tonight he was celebrating his birthday. Because of Nancy’s insensitive remarks, husband and wife made a wager. If he could pick up a woman at a local hotel bar and get her to go upstairs to a room for sex, she’d join them for a threesome.
“But what if she doesn’t want a threesome?” Richard had asked.
“You mean if I can’t convince her with my very impressive feminine wiles?” his wife had responded with a laugh. “Then I guess I’ll be doing some very fast hopping. Wouldn’t be the first time.”
This is why Richard now found himself up past his bedtime at a crowded hotel bar where the music was too loud. He’d much rather be at home, waiting to see who his wife was bringing him that night. But his pride was on the line.
Even though he’d been out of the dating game for a long time, he felt confident he’d be able to land a hottie and take her up to the hotel room they’d booked. He scanned the sea of people. It seemed full of possibilities. He locked eyes with a pretty raven haired woman behind the bar as she mixed a drink. She winked at him. Nancy had chosen this bartender as her vantage point to watch the proceeding.
She totally wanted him to win, which is why she pointed towards a small circular table where a couple of young women sat, chatting and giggling away. After observing them for a few seconds, he shot an upturned eyebrow back at Nancy. He knew these women were at least 21 years of age, but probably not a day older. They still had their whole lives ahead of them. He was just the man that could teach them a thing or two. Richard strode over confidently, believing that this would be over quickly, he’d be fucking one or both of them within the hour, and could go to sleep.
He assessed them as he got closer. The girl to his left was a curly haired brunette with a dazzling smile. She wore a short black dress, but didn’t have a lot going on in the chest department. That was okay. He was always partial to brunettes. They reminded him of his wife and his daughter Aubrey, although they had both been stacked.
To her right was a shoulder length blonde who was offering a generous amount of cleavage to all passersby in a low red blouse with lipstick that matched. His eyes lingered on her exposed skin, and it distracted him so much that he forgot to say anything upon his arrival.
“Can we…help you with something old man?” the blonde said with a pitying smirk.
“He looks lost,” the brunette giggled. “It seems like he’s trying to find directions to your tits.”
“Don’t even!” the blonde squealed, and whacked the brunette on the shoulder playfully. “I’m sure this grandpa is harmless.”
“Or he’s a dirty old man,” the brunette clapped back. “He’s gotta be, right? I mean he came over to our table. To what? Hit on us?” She crossed her legs and looked up at him as if she’d caught him doing something scandalous. “Do you even know how old we are, mister?”
“Um, uh, 21?” Richard replied as he tried to recover from their verbal assault.
“I am,” the blonde said, “But Kinzie here is only 19.”
“How did you…” Richard started to ask.
But the girl identified as Kinzie interjected. “Fake ID grandpa. What? They didn’t have those back in your day?”
“I don’t think they had that kind of technology back then,” the blonde added.
“Just had the wheel and fire, right gramps?”
“I am not that old!” Richard fumed.
“Yeah? How old are you then?” Kinzie asked with a raised eyebrow as she haughtily picked up her drink to take a sip.
“Old enough to…uh…teach you a few things,” Richard said as he tried to turn this interaction around.
This elicited a cringe response on both their faces that ended when they looked at each other and burst into a giggle fit.
The blonde’s eyes drifted down to Richard’s crotch, then back up to meet his. “Can you even get it up? I hear that can be a real problem for senior citizens.”
“I’m sure he can, Mckayla, withe the help of a pill!”
The giggle fit resumed in earnest, and Richard found himself wanting to retreat, from this table, from the premises from civilization. This had been a horrible idea.
Suddenly the bartender was at his side carrying a tray that had three drinks in martini glasses on it. “Here’s your drink sir, and how nice of you to buy a round for these two lovely ladies.”
“Ugh,” Kinzie said with an eye roll. “Well, a free drink’s a free drink.
She reached for it, but Mckayla hesitated and asked the bartender, “He didn’t pay you to slip something into it, did he?”
The bartender’s pretty face faltered as if she’d been slapped. But then she set her jaw, and said tightly, “I can assure you that he’d never have to do anything of the sort. Not when he has me.”
As Kinzie’s fingers curled around the thin stem of a glass, the bartender’s fingers brushed against her for the briefest of moments in a way that so often happens while passing something from one person to the next. A fleeting second of contact that feels both innocuous and yet strangely intimate. It is usually a moment that is here, then gone, but this time, it left a lingering effect in the form of a shudder that began in Kinzie’s hand.
“Excuse me?” Mckayla asked loudly in response to what the bartender had just said. But she got no response, because the bartender’s gaze had gone slack.
“Um, Mckayla, I think maybe I’ve had too much to drink,” Kinzie said as she looked at the tremor rapidly spreading up her arm.
Mckayla didn’t look at her friend but continued to study the bartender. It was like she was asleep, but her eyes were open. She was just standing as still as a statue holding the tray. “You’ve only had one Kinzie. I swear, you’re such a lightweight. You really should be building up more of a tolerance for the parties at college.”
“No, really, I…I think I want to go…” but the rest of what she might have said was lost as her mind was no longer her own.
“Just kidding!” Kinzie suddenly squealed. “I feel fine! In fact, I think we should go to this handsome guy’s room. You got a room, don’t ya mister?”
Mckayla’s jaw dropped as she turned her head away from the bartender towards her friend. “Are you fucking kidding me girl? You’ve got to be insane if you think that I’m going anywhere with grandpa here just cause he got us a free-”
But she stopped mid sentence as her friend grabbed her wrist, and it too began to shudder.
“What the hell? Why’s my arm fucking doing that? Am I having a stroke or some-”
But then Mckayla went quiet for a second before looking up at the bartender and taking the drink she’d previously insinuated was spiked. “Thank you, ma’am. Now go back and attend to your duties.”
“Yes,” the pretty bartender said in a flat tone before she turned away and went back behind the bar.
“So, stud,” Mackayla said as she eyed Richard up and down as if he were a snack. “I believe you were about to sit down and talk us two lovely ladies into having a threesome with you?” She set her glass down on the table and touched her friend’s hand.
Shudder.
A second later Kinzie said, “Yeah. We’d totally say yes. You can take us upstairs to your room and fuck us stupid. We’re both really nimble. We were both cheerleaders!” She touched Mckayla’s hand.
Shudder.
“I bet you like cheerleaders, don’t ya?” Mckayla said with a wink. “Especially ones that like kissing each other.” She looked at her friend and said, “Kiss me passionately.”
“Yes,” Kinzie said, and then their lips were together as they kissed each other deeply.
Shudder.
“So, what do you say?” Kinzie asked with her thousand watt smile.
Shudder.
“Please take us horny sluts up to your room and be our daddy for the night.”
This sudden reversal of fortune seemed to darken Richard’s mood. “Dammit Nancy! The deal was I do this on my own!”
Several people glanced at the tiny outburst from the older gentleman standing in front of the two young women. He seemed to be reprimanding them for something. Richard seemed to understand he’d made a scene, and smiled bashfully. A few seconds later, everyone went back to their drinks and conversations.
“I’m sorry, Richard,” Nancy’s voice came quietly out of Mckayla’s mouth. “It’s just, I heard these cunts being horrible to you and I thought we could teach them a lesson.” She put a hand on his leg and began sliding it upwards. “Together.”
Mckayla’s voice was back then. “Please mister. Please fuck some manners into us. Kinzie and I would learn so much from you.” She touched her friend on the arm.
Shudder.
“Yeah. Teach us Daddy,” Kinzie whined. “We’ll be good girls for you. We’ll even let you-”
“Enough,” Richard said quietly but firmly. “Anyone I take upstairs tonight will come because they want to. So…get out of these girls and let me get back to finding that person.”
“Fine!” Nancy said with an eye roll. “You still interested in teaching them a lesson though?”
“What did you have in mind?”
Nancy waved over the bartender who approached them quickly. Her eyes seemed less vacant than before, but there was still a bit of a haze there. Nancy casually brushed the back of Kinzie’s hand against the bartender, who shuddered.
“Well,” the bartender said, and she sounded as if she were recommending a drink. “Since you two are such good friends, you’re going to get each other off. I want you to go into the ladies room and strip naked, then toss your clothes out the window in there. Then go into a stall and begin licking and fingering each other. Try to make each other cum as fast as you can.”
“Yes,” they both said in perfect unison. They immediately stood, and with robotic grace walked to the ladies room.
“Well fuck me,” Richard said. “Now I want to go to the ladies room.”
“You had your chance,” Nancy said with a smirk. “Although I did memorize Mckayla’s address if you ever want me to go pay her a visit.”
A huge grin crept over Richard’s face. “I love you.”
“I know. Now get back on the horse and go get ‘em tiger. I’ll be over there watching. Best of luck. I do want you to have a happy birthday!”
“I think I’ll go hit on someone near the ladies room.”
“You do that, dear,” she said with a laugh, then went back to resume bartending.
Richard set off in the direction the two girls had gone. He passed by several people that looked like couples or were just trying to relax by themselves. He considered hitting on a few of them, but crossed off the ones that looked under 26. No more early twentysomethings. Too obnoxious and rude. He’d go aim a bit higher, which, he didn’t want to admit, would probably up his chances of success.
He decided on a professionally dressed woman in a light blue blouse and dark skirt sitting by herself. She wore her sandy blonde hair in a bun. She had glasses, and was staring intently at a laptop. If he struck out with her, she’d probably let him down gently unlike those first two had. He wondered if they were in the stall by now, their naked bodies pressed together invading each other’s holes with their tongues and fingers in a desperate attempt to make the other cum.
“This seat taken?” he asked with what he believed to be a suave demeanor.
“Huh, what?” the woman said, not bothering to look at him. “No? You can take it if you want.”
Richard was confused for a second, then understood. “No, I don’t need it for another table. I wanted to sit with you.”
This caused her to look up at him like he’d just said something very stupid. “Why?”
“Because…” he said, as he tried to think of something clever. He was beginning to wonder if he’d ever actually been clever in his life. “Because I wanted to get to know the prettiest woman in this bar.”
Her eyebrow raised and she gave him a quick up and down assessment. Then her lips pursed together like she’d tasted something sour. “Um…no. Thank you.”
Richard had been in sales for a long time, and never accepted the first no. Sometimes not the second. He could do this. He just needed a chance to show her what a catch he was. “I really think you’ll like me if you get to know me.”
“Probably not,” she said dismissively. “Because I tend not to like married men who hit on other women.”
This comment took Richard aback. “What? Why would you think I’m-”
“Wedding ring, dipshit,” the woman said, pointing at his left hand.
Despite the fact that Nancy’s actual body had been declared dead and they’d had a funeral and everything, to Richard, and to Nancy, she was very much alive. Of course he wore his ring. He’d never even thought about taking it off until this very second. Now he realized how foolish it had been to wear it while trying to pick up women in a bar. Then he had an idea.
“Oh, um…yeah, I’m…a widower. Just can’t bear to take it off.”
The woman’s eyes went wide and her face went very red. She began fidgeting with her hands as she apologetically blurted out, “Oh shit! I’m so sorry. I should not have…uh, has she been gone long? I mean…I didn’t mean to ask something so personal! I feel so bad! I honestly don’t know what to say.”
“How about you just let me buy you a drink and we get to know each other,” Richard offered as his confidence level soared to new heights. He glanced towards his wife behind the bar and signaled that he had someone on the hook.
The woman grimaced and said, “It’s really flattering, but…I have a deadline and-”
Richard interrupted. “It was a few years back when I lost her, but it still feels like yesterday. She was the love of my life, you know. Tonight was the first night I worked up the courage to put myself back out there.”
The woman’s expression became one of deepest sympathy and she closed her laptop. “I…I suppose one drink wouldn’t hurt. Uh…I’m Natalie.”
“Yes!” Richard exclaimed, and he couldn’t help but give a little fist pump. “That’ll show her.”
“Show who?”
Without thinking he said, “My wife. She didn’t think I could still get a woman to give me the time of…” He trailed off as he recognized his mistake.
The woman’s face shifted into one of loathing. “Wait! Was that whole dead wife thing a line?”
“No, I-”
“You’re disgusting. Go find someone else to be sleazy to,” she said with a wave of her hand.
“So close,” Richard said as he stood. Back to square one. He was a few steps away when a hand grabbed his shoulder and spun him around.
“Fine! Natalie said with a bit of contempt still etched on her face. “You wanna fool around, I could use a destresser. Let’s go.”
Richard couldn’t believe his luck! “I have a room we can-”
“I know someplace closer,” she said, and still clasping his hand, she drug him to the ladies room and pushed open the door.
They both stopped at the sight of two naked women who appeared to be having a wild night. Their hair was a mess and their lipstick was smeared. They were both attempting to cover their bodies with paper towels, but it was not working very well. At the sight of the woman, Kinzie said, “Ohmygosh can you please help us? We need some clothes. Can you-”
“Ah!” Mckayla yelled. “There’s a man with her!”
She made a better attempt to cover her boobs, but her crotch was very much exposed. Richard knew where some of Kinzie’s lipstick went, because some remnants of her shade were between Mckayla’s legs.
“It’s the old guy from before!” Kinzie hissed, and they both darted into a stall.
“Looks like this one has other stuff going on,” Natalie quipped, and pulled Richard out and into the men’s. She led him to a stall, pushed him inside and said, “Take off your pants.”
Richard’s fingers flew to his crotch where they momentarily seemed to forget how to unbuckle a belt.
“Let me help,” Natalie said with an eye roll. She sank to her knees and was much more adept at getting Richard’s pants off than he seemed to be. She made no pretense of why they were there as she yanked down his underwear. She took his cock in her hand, holding it up to be level with her face. Then she leaned forward and took him in her mouth.
“Oh fuck! That was fast!” he said. His mojo was back! It might not have worked the way he’d planned, but a win was still a-
He felt it then. A telltale shudder. He’d felt it many, many times while he and his wife made love. A shudder was the telltale sign of a bodyhopper moving into a new host. But it continued to happen intermittently while the hopper remained inside. It was a brief struggle of one soul dominating the other. It was like a reflex, and could even be done while a hopper slept, but it was also very noticeable, especially for someone who had been around hoppers as much as Richard.
“Seriously Nancy! Again!” he said as he pushed Natalie’s head back. He’d really been enjoying himself too, but his dick was suddenly deflating as he realized he’d been duped.
The woman’s face looked up at him sheepishly. “I thought I could get you off real quick before I shuddered and then you’d have a win and you could take me upstairs and fuck.”
Richard frowned, pissed that he was still 0 for 2. “Well, you almost got me there. Another 20 seconds of your world class dick sucking and I would have busted all over your face.”
She reached up and stroked his cock, which twitched hopefully in her hand. “You still could, darling. Seriously. I’m so horny in this body. I’d love it if you took me right here in this stall.”
Richard had to hand it to his wife. She could bring out the sluttiest part of any woman. He could take her right here and she’d never know because of how Nancy could alter her memories. But he shook his head and helped her to her feet.
“Wait! When did you even hop her?” he asked as he pulled his pants up.
She gave a small smile. “I’d just arrived to take your drink order when you got up to leave her table. A second later I was her, and pulled you into the bathroom so you wouldn’t notice the bartender right behind us.”
“That was so funny seeing those two girls in the bathroom.”
“That’s why I took you in there first. Did you see the lipstick on the one girl’s hoo ha?”
“Oh yeah.”
The couple burst out laughing, but then Richard said, “Okay, I’m going back out there. No help this time, understood?”
Nancy slumped Natalie’s shoulders. “I don’t think you know how much I want you to succeed, dear. I really need it right now. I might just rub one out in the stall real quick when you leave. Unless you want to watch?” She began to unbutton her blouse while she bit her lower lip. “You could still help this uptight business woman unwind?”
Richard left in a hurry before his wife could tempt him further. What did he do to deserve such a seductive creature?
As he left the restroom, he eyed the occupants of the bar with new determination. Third time’s the charm. He’d just…pick someone closer to his age. Not his preferred choice, but a gal with experience could certainly bring a lot to the table, or in this case, the bedroom. He pocketed his wedding ring as he circled the perimeter, finally coming back near the entrance where other hotel guests passed close by.
It was there he saw someone he’d passed by earlier. A woman in her early 40’s that he hadn’t really considered. She was quite striking though with her long auburn hair and legs that went on for miles. Richard thought she somewhat resembled Nancy in the face. And also the boobs. The woman was stacked.
She had a duffel bag on the chair next to her. Richard put a hand on the handle of the bag and said, “Mind if I move this so I can have a seat?” As he started to lift it, it began to shake. And growl.
The woman’s eyebrows shot up and she protectively reached for it and pulled it onto her lap. “Have a seat if you must, but Daisy doesn’t like to be jostled unnecessarily.”
Out of the top of the bag popped the face of an adorable Yorkshire terrier. Her furry brown face looked up into his and gave a small yip.
“Good girl,” the woman said with a small smile as she pulled the terrier out of the bag and put her on her lap. “She can be a very good judge of character. You must be a bad man.” The terrier growled at him.
Richard put his hands up and chuckled, then said to the small dog, “I can assure you I meant no harm little lady.” He held out a hand for her to sniff. The terrier did, and then gave his palm a lick.
The woman assessed him, and by her expression, she liked what she saw. “Perhaps you’re not terrible. Go ahead and have a seat.”
Richard did so. “I didn’t know you could have dogs in here.”
“You probably can’t,” the woman said with an air of indifference. “But she’s my emotional support animal. That’s what I tell everyone anyways.”
This annoyed Richard, but he tried hard to focus on her figure, something which the woman didn’t seem to mind him eyeing. “So, what’s your sign?”
This elicited a shrill laugh from the woman. “I haven’t heard that one in awhile.”
“I really need to get some new material.”
“Do you find yourself coming out to hotel bars often enough that you need to constantly refresh it?”
“Er, no,” Richard said. “I usually just stick with the basics. Like, hi, I’m Richard, and you are a very beautiful woman that I would like to get to know better.”
She cocked her head at him, studying him closely like a cat might before pouncing on a mouse, then said, “That was a much better line. I’m Crystal. What would you like to know?”
The two hit it off, and Richard found Crystal’s banter refreshing. She didn’t look at him like he was ancient, or pitied him in any way. Best of all though, she hadn’t shuddered once.
They were mid conversation discussing childhood pets when the bartender came up and asked, “Can I get you two anything?”
“I’ll take a bourbon,” Richard said, not taking his eyes away from Crystal.
“Nothing for me,” Crystal said as she tapped a glass she’d barely touched.
They both just stared at each other, mirroring a smile that belied a bubbling chemistry under the surface.
The spell was momentarily broken by the sound of the bartender clearing her throat. “Will you be taking that bourbon up to your room…sir?”
Richard looked up at the raven haired bartender. “In a bit. We’re in no rush.”
The bartender’s eyes narrowed, and her smile became tight lipped. “Of course…sir. By all means, take your time.”
As she walked away, she touched the shoulder of a woman passing by, who shuddered. That woman whispered something into the bartender’s ear, who went about her duties a moment later.
Richard was oblivious to this. He was enjoying the massive ego boost Crystal was giving him. He found himself opening up to her, sharing things like it was a first date. He was used to seeing different women all the time, but the conversation was always the same, because his wife knew everything about him. This was nice, so much so that he didn’t mind talking and throwing back a few. He was slightly worried that he’d pissed Nancy off, because she acted like she didn’t know him whenever she brought the drinks.
“Well, this has been lovely,” Crystal finally said. “But I should be going.”
“Oh, um, I was wondering if you wanted to…” Richard started, not entirely sure how to seal the deal.
She grinned at him and finished the proposition for him. “If I wanted to come up to your room and we have casual sex like grown adults?”
“Uh…” Richard stammered. “Y-yeah. I guess…that.”
“You’re very cute when you’re flustered.”
“Well if you’d like to see me flustered you should see me try to take my pants off when I’m really excited.”
She laughed. “I feel like I’m missing something.”
“Sorry, it’s just been awhile since I…”
“Mommy, mommy, she’s got a dog!”
A boy about five or six walking by the hotel bar area with his mom had broken free of her hand and ran to their table. The boy put his hand on the dog’s fur, and gave it a hard pet, causing the dog to shake at the sudden attention.
“Mason!” his mom snapped as she grabbed the boy’s arm and pulled him back. “We ask permission before touching someone’s pet. It might have bit you. I’m so sorry,” she said to Crystal as she backpedaled out of the bar with her son.
“No harm done,” Crystal said graciously.
“Mason, use your feet,” the mom admonished. “I feel like I’m dragging you out of here.”
When they were out of earshot, Crystal said, “Kids. They never can resist a cute dog like Daisy.” She gave her pet a loving pat. The dog looked at Richard and yipped playfully. Then she kept yipping.
“Well, if you’re going to start making all that noise, I probably should get you up to a room,” she said. “And it seems like we have options,” she said looking slyly at Richard. “Yours or mine?”
They both laughed and got up from the table. Richard let Crystal take the lead so he could wave at the pretty bartender, who didn’t seem to understand why he was pointing at Crystal and giving her the thumbs up. The bartender just smiled awkwardly back at him and returned the thumbs up.
Richard was glad his wife was letting him get a head start, knowing she’d show up soon. He and Crystal got in the elevator and faced the closing doors. He pressed the button to his floor, and as he did, he didn’t notice the dog’s nose reaching up out of the bag to press against Crystal’s hip. Nor did he see Crystal shudder a moment later.
“Let’s go to mine actually,” she said. “It’s on the top floor. The penthouse suite. Great view.”
“Um…” Richard said, unsure of what to do. It was okay. He could just call down and let his wife know they’d received an upgrade. “Sure thing.”
As soon as the doors were shut, her mouth was on his. He responded in kind, and their hands roamed freely about each other. The dog was oddly silent despite being jostled.
They practically fell out into the empty hallway when the doors opened. They were both panting and pulling at each other’s clothes as they stumbled their way to an ornate door. Crystal pulled out a card from a side pocket of Daisy’s carrier, and pressed it to an electronic device next to the door. The light went green, and the sound of a click could be heard. Crystal pushed her way in, and Richard stepped into a room that was much bigger than the one he thought he’d be sleeping in. There was an entire living room, kitchen, and bedroom area. And as he walked further in, he saw that Crystal hadn’t been kidding. There was an amazing view. He strode to the far side of the living room where a sliding glass door led out to a balcony. He opened it, and stepped out into the night. He was ten stories up, with the city a twinkling sea of lights below him.
“If you’d rather stay out there you can,” a sultry voice called from behind. “But I think you’ll find the view in here much more interesting.”
Richard turned and found that yes, the view was much better inside this penthouse suite. Crystal hand dispensed with her dress, and was standing in a black lingerie set that she must have been wearing underneath in the off chance she got lucky. With a body like hers though, she didn’t need luck. He was just glad he’d been the one she’d decided to take to bed, but he also chalked some of that up to his own good looks and charm.
He came over to her and pulled her into a kiss. He’d expected it to feel different kissing someone that his wife wasn’t possessing. New. Foreign. But…there was a surprising familiarity to it. New mouth, new tongue, but the way their mouths met was how he’d kissed Nancy for so many years.
An annoying sound went off in Crystal’s purse that she’d tossed onto the bed. It disrupted their entwined tongues. “Sorry,” Crystal said as she scooped her purse up. “That’s the alarm on my phone. I need to go…take my medication. High blood pressure.”
“Totally get it,” Richard started to say as Crystal quickly disappeared into the bathroom a few feet away. “I have high cholesterol.” He wasn’t sure if she’d heard all of that, because she’d slammed the door so fast.
What seemed like just a few seconds later though, she came out again. And her hands were behind her back.
“You found those pills fast,” he said. “It takes my wife a long time to dig anything out of her purse.” He went red immediately, as he realized his little slip of the tongue.
“Are you married, Richard?” she asked sweetly as the tension in her bra gave way as she released the clasp. She began to lower it, giving him a great view of her impressive breasts.
“Uh…y-yes,” he said.
“But you’re here with me?” she said in a teasing manner. “And you’re going to fuck me, aren’t you.” She hadn’t said it as a question, but as a fact.
Richard nodded quickly. “I am!”
“Does your wife know you’re here?” Crystal asked as her fingers began to unbutton his shirt.
“Yes, well, no, not here. She knows I’m in the hotel. It’s a long story, you see, it’s my birthday. She said I could have a threesome if I could pick up a woman at the bar.”
Crystal laughed softly. “Oh. So I’m expected to invite someone else up to my suite am I? Is your wife attractive?”
Richard thought that was a rather funny question since Nancy could be anyone she pleased. Currently, she was in that very pretty bartender. “Yeah, she’s…very attractive,” he said earnestly as he pulled out his phone to call the bar. “I can let her we’re in your suite so she can come up and-”
Crystal grabbed the phone from his hand and threw it with a smile onto the bed. “Not just yet. I want you to myself for a little bit. That okay?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said.
She winked at him as she unzipped his pants. “That was the right answer.” And then she was dropping to her knees, pulling his pants down as she went. Her fingers deftly moved to the hem of his boxers, which came down just as fast. “My, my!” she said as Richard’s sizeable erection popped out. She licked her lips at the sight of it. “Someone is very excited to see me.”
“Oh he is,” Richard chuckled. “So how do you want to-” was as far as he got before he gave a happy little strangled moan, because Crystal had taken him in her mouth. And the way she used her tongue, Richard knew this was not her first rodeo. His stamina had increased with age, probably because he was getting laid about every night from a different beautiful woman. But the way Crystal was sucking him, he wasn’t going to last long.
He tried to signal this by tapping her on the head, and then by sputtering a very coherent, “Um...”
But she kept going, getting him right up to the edge, and then…stopped just as quickly as she’d started. She’d seemed to know where his line was, and had backed off in the nick of time.
“Sorry,” she said as she stood and delicately wiped her mouth. “I just had to see if it tasted as good as it looked.”
Richard was trying to catch his breath as he asked, “And?”
“It was even better,” she giggled. Then she led him to the bed, and pushed him onto it. “What’s your favorite position, Richard?” she asked.
“Uh, basically just…”
“Whatever your wife wants?” Crystal finished for him. “You must be happily married,” she added with a wink. “Well, I like to be on top.”
“That works for me,” Richard said happily as he flopped his body against the bed.
Crystal started to crawl on top of him with a seductive smile, when her phone went off again. She blew a strand of hair out of her face as she got up and looked in annoyance in the direction of her phone. “Sorry. Just let me go take care of something real quick.”
“Whatever you need to do,” Richard said. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“I’m counting on it,” she said with a smile as she again slipped quickly into the bathroom.
Richard spied the hotel phone next to the bed, and reached for it.
“How can I help you?” a polite voice asked on the other end.
“Bar please?”
“Certainly.”
A second later the familiar voice of the bartender picked up. “Hello. What drink order would you like sent to your-”
Richard cut her off. “Nancy, it’s me. I’m in the penthouse suite. Come join us as soon as you can.” He heard the turning of the bathroom handle and said, “Love you!”
“Excuse me?” came the voice on the other end, but the receiver was already on its way forcibly back to its cradle.
“Ordering room service?” Crystal asked coyly as she reentered the room. She walked nimbly towards him with searching eyes.
“Huh? Oh, uh, yeah. Hope that’s okay?” Richard noticed she’d left her phone in the bathroom. Hopefully that was the last interruption.
“As long as you charged it to my room,” she said demurely. “Now, where were we? Oh yes. I think I was about to get on top of you and ride your dick until you cum inside my wet pussy.”
Richard stretched out and smiled. “Well, if you must.”
Crystal’s eyes flashed, and she looked almost predatory as she made her way onto the bed. She eyed his cock like it was a prize that was just there for her. She curled her fingers around it and gave it a gentle squeeze. It throbbed in appreciation. She leaned forward and pressed her large breasts against his chest. She made eye contact with him while she used the hand gripping his shaft to guide it in. Her mouth formed an ‘O’ the second he parted her. She stayed there for a moment, with just his tip in, then she rocked her hips forward, and he was suddenly deep inside her.
Richard let out the breath he hadn’t known he was holding when he felt the tip go in. Nancy always watched him very closely whenever he went into new pussy that she’d brought home. Crystal continued watching him closely too.
“So big,” she cooed. “So hard. So…familiar,” she said with a sly smile.
“Familiar?” he asked, his chest rising and falling from the way she was grinding her hips. This woman was something else. She really knew how to use her body.
In lieu of an answer, she leaned down again and kissed him passionately. She flexed her pussy as their tongues danced together.
Richard loved everything this woman was doing. Clearly she had a lot of experience, but what she said, and how she kissed him. It was so like Nancy would kiss him. He tried to ask her about it, but her mouth continued to cover his, almost as if she didn’t want him to talk yet. His hands came up to her face but she intercepted them and pushed them back against the bed, pinning him.
At last Crystal ended the kiss and raised her face up just enough so their noses touched. “Just like old times, Richard,” she purred.
And then her face moved rapidly in front of him, as her whole body gave way to a violent shudder.
Richard’s temper flared and he tried to push up, but Crystal held him down. “Nancy, what the hell! I wanted to do this on my own!”
A wicked smile spread across Crystal’s face as she continued to fuck him very slowly. “Afraid you’re mistaken, Richard. I’m not your wife. But I’m not Crystal either.”
_____________________________________________________________________
One hour earlier.
Nancy hadn’t planned on Richard’s foray back into the dating pool taking this long. She had needs! He knew this. And birthday or no, she needed to scratch that itch. The need to wrap her legs around him had increased exponentially as she watched him successfully hit it off with an attractive middle aged woman.
It was not lost on Nancy that Crystal somewhat resembled her as she had been a decade ago. She wished she could hop her. Find out her story real quick and make sure she wasn’t wasting her husband’s time. But that’d have to wait till later. She saw that every second Crystal spent with Richard was doing wonders for his self esteem. And it was also making Nancy jealous, something she had not felt in some time. She kind of liked it, because watching her husband interact from afar with a beautiful woman that she was not possessing spiked her lust. She wanted them to go upstairs now! But since they were taking their sweet time, Nancy decided to quell some of her desire by popping out for a quickie as someone else.
In a hotel, this prospect was incredibly easy. She grabbed a bottle of champagne and went to the front desk. She hopped the man behind a computer, looked up who was in a honeymoon suite, hopped back into the bartender, and went to one of the corresponding rooms.
There was a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign hanging from the door handle of the room she’d chosen. Nancy knocked anyway. A loud curse was heard along with the sound of giggles. A half a minute later, an attractive young man opened the door wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. He looked flushed and agitated.
“We put the sign on the door,” he spluttered.
“So sorry,” Nancy said as she held out the bottle of champagne. “We forgot to give this to you at the front desk as a way of congratulations.”
The man’s demeanor changed as he saw the expensive looking bottle. He reached out to take it. “Well…thanks I-”
But the words ceased as his fingers brushed the bartender’s, and a shudder spread rapidly through him. He smiled back at the bartender a moment later. “Go resume your duties. This shouldn’t take long.”
“Yes,” the bartender said vacantly, and left.
Nancy shut the door, and let the towel drop. She looked down at a semi flaccid penis that was rapidly reclaiming its hardened status. “Not bad. Now let’s see who’s the lucky recipient of this fine specimen.”
She went deeper into the room and found a gorgeous blonde wearing nothing but a smile. Nancy usually preferred being in a female during sex, but she figured what the hell. She’d show this bride a good time on her wedding night. She climbed confidently onto the bed and spread the woman’s legs.
“Oh!” she gasped. “Jackson you, you seem…more sure of yourself all of a sudden!”
Nancy smiled down at the pretty girl. She’d be letting Jackson keep his memory of what was about to transpire. “I’m just so excited to do this with you for the first time, Lilly.” And with that, Nancy thrust into her, and did her very best to last longer than five minutes. She made it to six, but redeemed herself by some fancy finger work on Lilly after. She got Lilly off three times, and then did some cuddling.
Nancy found the young man’s recovery time impressive, because she was hard again and ready to go in no time. Being in a young stud certainly had its advantages. She couldn’t help but compare Richard’s recovery time, which was 24 hours these days unless he took a pill. She didn’t like when he did that though, because they could be bad for his heart.
Nancy left a well fucked and very happy Lilly in the room to go ‘get ice’ for the champagne. She made sure to let Jackson keep the memory of what happened to be their first sexual encounter, and then hopped back into the bartender.
She surveyed the room and discovered quickly that her husband had left. She perused the bartender’s memories and discovered her husband’s phone call. He wouldn’t be in their room, but had hung up before saying which it was. She’d have to play detective. Thankfully that was very easy to do when you had complete access to someone’s mind from just a touch. She headed to the front desk again to find out where her man was.
___________________________________________________________________________
“What do you mean you’re not my wife,” Richard asked. “I…I saw you shudder, Nancy. Hell, I felt you shudder,” he added with a forced grin. He did not like whatever game his wife was playing.
The voice that came out of Crystal’s mouth was not her own, but that of a man, low and gravelly. “I miss playing the part of your wife, Richard. Did it for a few months, remember? You were a stallion back then. Always happy to fuck me every day.”
Richard knew that voice all too well, and a chill ran up his spine. “Nevyn. I thought you were dead.”
“Sorry to disappoint,” Nevyn said coldly. “But I’m afraid it’s not that easy to kill me. Some might say, it’s impossible. Uh oh…someone’s trying to get all soft on me.”
Crystal’s voice came back as Nevyn sat up straight and began bouncing on Richard’s cock. “We can’t have that, baby. If this voice keeps you nice and hard I’ll use it from now on while we fuck. Mm…that’s right. Stay nice and hard for me. I always did appreciate your big dick.”
“What do you want?” Richard asked, furious that his penis had a mind of its own.
“To wish you a happy birthday of course.” He brought Richard’s hands up to Crystal’s chest and placed them firmly on them. “Be a dear and hold these. Big tits like these need support when I really get going. And they liked to be squeezed. I know that’s something you’ve always been willing to do.”
“Nevyn, I can’t…we can’t…”
“Oh but we can,” Nevyn said with Crystal’s seductive voice. “We certainly used to. You made love to me every night, remember? I’d be waiting for you in the most scandalous lingerie. Nancy had stopped wearing it for you back then, but I had something provocative on that showed off her body for you all the time. And we used so many toys on each other. I really loved what you did with those handcuffs. You were an animal that night. Remember when I let you cover me in whip cream that other time. Ha! I know Derek remembers that night too. Our naughty son caught Mommy in the kitchen. He had to go back to his room and think about how you were gonna lick it off me. I was so loud that night. All so Derek could hear. So it would drive him nuts. Or should I say, drive him to nut.”
“Stop…talking about stuff like that,” Richard groaned, trying his best not to cum.
“Don’t play innocent with me, Richard. All this talk about me being in your wife and making her do all those kinky things is making you harder than ever. I can FEEL it because I’m as connected with you right now as anyone can be. Let me tell you something else you might not want to hear, but I know is the truth. You loved it when I was Nancy. You loved the kinky shit I let you do to her.”
Crystal’s body sped up as Nevyn began lifting her up higher and slamming down the length of him. “And I was happy to do it, Richard. Because your dick, well, it is really great. I’ve had thousands of cocks over the centuries, and yours was easily top five. It can stretch a girl out real nice. And your stamina, damn! It took a lot ot wear you out. You gonna have that same stamina tonight for me, Richard? Gonna make me cum on your big hard dick before you blow your load inside me like you used to? I loved that by the way. You always shot out so much! Hung like a horse and cums like one too. Oh I miss it Richard. Yeah! Fuck me like you used to!”
Richard hated how much he had liked that time. He’d always loved sex, and Nevyn had hopped Nancy during a dry spell in their lives. He’d used Nancy’s body to great effect. “Shut the fuck up! Oh fuck! Fuck! You’re sick! You’re a fucking psychopath!”
All of a sudden there was a loud knock on the door. “It’s me!” a voice called.
“That’s Nancy,” Richard said as relief washed over him.
“I knew she’d be along shortly,” Nevyn said as he continued to ride Richard. “And what good timing. Tell her to come in. I’m sure she has a key with since she is probably in the body of a hotel staff member.”
It seemed to Richard that Nevyn was five steps ahead of him. That wasn’t unusual. There was a reason that Derek and Aubrey had struggled to catch him for so long.
A hard slap across his face cleared the thoughts from his mind, and then Nevyn’s voice hissed menacingly, “I said tell her to come in.”
He wanted to protect his wife, but she was immune to Nevyn’s bodyhopping abilities. She should be fine. It was him that was at risk, so he yelled, “Come in Nancy!”
Just outside the door Nancy wondered why Richard wasn’t coming to let her in himself, but…maybe the woman, whose name she’d learned was Crystal, had him tied to the bed or something. She could only hope. What a fun night this could turn out to be.
She pressed a master key card against the locking mechanism and pushed the door open. There was her husband underneath the beautiful woman, who was craning her neck to look back at her.
“Nancy,” the woman called out. “So good to see you again. Your husband’s just as good as I remember, and if I’m not mistaken, given his shortness of breath and the way he can’t help but thrust his hips under me, he’s about to cum.”
“Richard, you’d better wait until-” Nancy began with a smile on her face. But it faltered as her mind started to piece together the words Crystal had just said, and another layer of tension was added by the fearful expression on her husband’s face.
“It’s Nevyn,” he moaned. “Ah! Dammit!” His whole body tensed as his cock began to pulse.
“Oh yes!” Nevyn cheered. “That’s it. There’s so much! Let it out! Here, I’ll help you!”
Richard felt Crystal’s vaginal walls flex and milk every drop from him. He also felt Nancy watching him in a mix of shock and horror. He mouthed, ‘I’m sorry.’
“It’s not your fault, honey,” she said. Then her tone turned to ice as she looked at Nevyn. “Get off him you sick freak. You’ve had your fun.”
Richard wondered if he could push Nevyn off and run. But it would only take a touch for Nevyn to possess his body. He felt his dick slide out of Crystal’s pussy, and his cum began to leak out of her onto his torso.
“I will when I’m ready,” Nevyn’s voice growled. He switched back to Crystal’s voice. “Did you ever tell your wife that you liked her more when I was possessing her?”
Richard looked at his wife pitifully “Honey, that’s not-”
Nevyn clucked his tongue. “Let’s not lie, Richard. I went through your memories when I visited your house this last week.”
“What’re you talking about?” Nancy asked.
“Don’t interrupt me when I’m talking!” Nevyn’s voice bellowed. He quickly switched back to the seductive tone of Crystal as he stroked Richard’s face. “I looked way back and saw that you were very happy during the time I pretended to be your wife. You never told her that, but it’s the truth. I was better at making you happy than she ever was. I was such a good wife and perfect slut for you in her body.”
“He’s lying!” Richard yelled.
“It’s fine, honey,” Nancy said. “He’s just trying to wind us up.”
Nevyn smiled. “Aw, you guys are sweet. Might as well get down to business then. I need to make a phone call to your kids. I’m sure you got a way to reach them, don’t you?”
Richard shook his head.
“Liar,” Nevyn spat. “Well, I guess say goodbye to Nancy, Richard.”
“What!” Richard blurted, and then he felt the shudder begin in his groin and spread out like lightning through his body. His face turned to Nancy. “I love you!” he said.
And then he blinked. And Richard was no longer in control.
“Get off me,” Nevyn said from underneath a now vacant eye’d Crystal. She immediately did, getting off him and standing expressionless at the side of the bed.
Nancy watched nervously as her husband’s body got up from the bed and went to dig his phone out of the pants that he’d tossed into a corner. “Just…let him go, please,” she begged.
“I will,” Nevyn said while he initiated a video call. “After I’ve delivered a message to Derek and Bri.” He walked over to the sliding glass door and opened it.
A second later, Aubrey’s face came on the screen. “Hey Derek! Dad’s calling. Happy birthday Dad!”
Another face pushed its way onto the screen, that of a pretty redhead with lots of freckles. “Hey Dad! Happy birthday! Sorry we couldn’t be there. Mom do something special for you?”
“She took me to a hotel with a great view!” Nevyn said imitating Richard’s voice and cadence flawlessly. “Wanna see?” He turned the camera so they could see the city lights below.
“Aw, that’s nice,” Aubrey gushed. “Is she there?”
Nevyn turned the phone so they could see the body that Nancy was in. The kids, used to this, called out, “Hi mom!”
“Nevyn’s not dead,” she replied grimly. “He’s here, inside your father.”
Nevyn turned the camera back to their father’s face. He’d wiped it off its smile, and traded it for a darkened scowl directed at Nancy. “Your family really sucks at letting me have any fun.”
The twins' faces had become hardened masks.
“Leave our parents alone, Nevyn,” Derek’s voice said harshly.
“What?” Nevyn said menacingly. “The way you left me alone? The way you keep trying to track me down. I know you don’t want to lock me away somewhere. You want to kill me!”
He’d shouted those last two words, making Nancy jump.
“I know you thought you had, but I’ve learned something, unlike you two and anyone else with my gene, I can’t be killed. Isn’t that great! But I CAN be annoyed at having my plans interrupted. So I’m going to respond to your attempt on my life, by an attempt on someone you love. I just think I’ll be a little more successful. Let’s find out, shall we?”
And with that, Nevyn swung a leg over the balcony railing, and leapt off.
Screams pierced the air as Nancy rang to the edge and looked down. They came from Nancy, and from the phone that Nevyn had pulled close to Richard’s chest. He held it in such a way that when his body met the ground, the phone remained intact. Aubrey’s scream could still be heard from the speaker.
In the busy downtown district, a crowd quickly formed. Nancy watched as a man approached her husband’s body. “Don’t touch him!” she yelled, but no one on the ground could make it out.
But the twins also knew the danger and understood what would come next. “Get away from him!” Derek cried.
“Stay away!” Aubrey shouted.
But all it takes is one touch.
The man touched Richard’s arm, and immediately began to shudder as Nevyn’s soul passed from their dead father, into the stranger, who then took the phone out of Richard’s hand and held it to his face.
“If you get in my way again,” Nevyn warned. “This is how it will end for all of you.”
With that, he ended the call, and walked away past the crowd, satisfied that he’d been understood.
_______________________________________________________________________
Epilogue
65 years later.
Derek sat in the passenger seat as Stephanie drove them out of Maine. They had one more stop to make before they made the long journey to headquarters. Derek hadn’t been back there since coming into possession of the mirror. That had been for his safety, and everyone else’s. At a place filled with active bodyhoppers, the mirror was sexual napalm, and the ramifications could be catastrophic. It really said something about the current state of the world that it was worth the risk.
Stephanie had assured him that all the pieces were coming together. They finally had the means to track Nevyn after he’d created a world filled with people just like him. But if Derek could just get near him, it would all be over. The world still might not be the same, but at least, if his hypothesis was right, the body swapping everyone worldwide was experiencing would finally come to an end.
He became aware that his hand was in the bag. His fingers were running along the smooth wooden handle. It called to him.
“This isn’t going to end well, you know,” Bekka’s voice said in his head.
“I know,” Derek said aloud.
“Know what?” Stephanie asked.
“Nothing,” Derek grunted. “I just talk to myself sometimes.”
“I’ve noticed.”
Stephanie gripped the steering wheel tightly as they passed a POM security vehicle. She breathed easier after she saw it continue on its way in their rearview. She reached into her pocket and took out a phone. “It’s a burner. Untraceable. Call the saved number. Someone really wants to talk to you.”
Derek took it and fumbled with the small device with his large calloused hands. He finally found the contact, and pressed it.
It barely rang when a middle aged blonde woman appeared on the screen.
“Hi Derek,” she said with a wide smile.
Despite himself, Derek smiled back. “How’d you know it was me?”
“A mother always knows.”
He nodded. “It’s good to see you. Sorry I’ve been away so long. But I’m glad it’s finally time. Ready to help set the world right, Mom?”
“I am. All of us are ready to do whatever it takes to stop Nevyn, and we can track him now thanks to Trevor. Thanks for sending him to us by the way, he’s been really great. Like, REALLY great.”
Derek tried to keep the smile on his face, but at the sound of the shapeshifter’s name, his grip involuntarily tightened on the mirror’s handle. “You don’t have to elaborate mom, I get it. It’ll be good to see all of you soon. And to finally have justice for dad.”
To be continued in Shudder: Worldwide.
It was Richard Johnson’s birthday, and he was a man on a mission. He was going to pick up a beautiful woman in a hotel bar using only his appearance and charm. He hadn’t needed to rely on those attributes in a very long time, but still managed to have a different woman in his bed every night. That was one of the perks to being married to a bodyhopper.
For the ten years that she’d been a bodyhopper, Nancy Johnson loved bringing home women that would entice her husband to fuck her senseless. If a pretty cashier caught his eye, or the cute teller at the bank, or a seductive college cheerleader, or one of the many local milfs, Nancy would make sure each of their bodies spent some very intimate time with her man. She’d even gone on a few trips to bring in some celebrities that he’d crushed on forever.
Nancy became bodyhopper during an experiment run by her twin children, Derek and Aubrey. They’d used an electrical charge to spark a gene inside of her. They knew it was there, because it ran in their family. Once activated, she gained the ability to pass her soul from one body to the next. In doing so, she gained access to that person’s mind and could pass for them with the greatest of ease. She had used it to seduce her husband, and eventually persuaded him to leave her aging body behind.
The couple were still very much in love, and when Nancy wasn’t fucking her husband’s brains out in a body typically younger than her previous one, they were enjoying hobbies and conversations that were akin to people who had been together for many years. They didn’t go out on many dates though since Nancy was usually in the body of a woman in her 20’s that could have been Richard’s granddaughter. It was here that the trouble started.
A week ago Nancy had gently teased her husband while in the guise of a cute, blonde 21 year old. She told him he’d never be able to pick up someone like her in real life because of the age gap. She thought it would turn him on. One of his favorite things was when she brought home a young woman and began calling him ‘Daddy.’ Perhaps because his 55th birthday was a week away, or the fact that they could no longer grow old together, he took it poorly.
“Age is just a number,” he snapped back. “I could go into a bar, any bar, and have a woman on my arm by the end of the night.”
Nancy had then made the catastrophic mistake of laughing at this remark. The idea of her husband with his wrinkles and gray hair going to a club and using his cheesy lines on a woman to take her back home was honestly absurd to her.
Richard’s pride took a hit, and he went to sleep on the couch that night, and no amount of cajoling or seduction could get him to return. This was also a blow to Nancy, because a bodyhopper continually craved sex. It seemed to be part of the gene. In instances like these, she’d had to seek other options. In that case, she’d taken the blonde home and fucked her boyfriend.
Nancy fucked a lot of boyfriends and husbands when she inevitably returned a host body. Richard knew this of these indiscretions, but also knew that as horny as he often was, his wife had an itch that he couldn’t always scratch, especially as he got older. He’d never resented her for it, because he’d been around a few bodyhoppers the last decade. Derek was one, and like Nancy, no longer had a body of his own. Aubrey was too, but had to keep her body hooked up to life support if she ever hopped someone.
Then there was the third bodyhopper they all knew. The one who had passed the gene on to so many people over the last few centuries. His name was Nevyn, and he’d almost ruined all of their lives.
Nevyn had possessed Nancy for a few months long ago, living with the Johnsons and teasing Derek relentlessly. But after Nevyn lost his bodyhopping power and became stuck in Derek’s body, he’d briefly aligned himself with the Johnsons in the pursuit of getting Derek his body back. They’d studied the gene and made several breakthroughs, and somewhere during this process, Nevyn felt sidelined, and eventually betrayed. He used what he knew to get his powers back by himself, which led to a close friend of the Johnsons named Bekka to lose her life, although the twins often spoke of her like she was still alive.
Nevyn’s actions spurred the twins along two different paths that ran parallel to each other. Aubrey continued unlocking the secrets of the bodyswapping gene to try and find a way to track it, while Derek pursued Nevyn by thinking like him, and looking for his telltale signatures in society.
A month ago, Derek had success, and had intercepted Nevyn. In a phone call, Derek had given his parents the good news that it was finally over.
“Nevyn’s dead. He knew I was chasing him and he ran into traffic. A second later he was hit by a bus. After all this time, that’s how it ends. It’s so strange. We finally all have our lives back.”
The Johnsons had all moved on as best they could, with Aubrey stating she was going back to college to get her doctorate, and Derek possibly moving back home.
But tonight, none of this was on Richard’s mind. Because tonight he was celebrating his birthday. Because of Nancy’s insensitive remarks, husband and wife made a wager. If he could pick up a woman at a local hotel bar and get her to go upstairs to a room for sex, she’d join them for a threesome.
“But what if she doesn’t want a threesome?” Richard had asked.
“You mean if I can’t convince her with my very impressive feminine wiles?” his wife had responded with a laugh. “Then I guess I’ll be doing some very fast hopping. Wouldn’t be the first time.”
This is why Richard now found himself up past his bedtime at a crowded hotel bar where the music was too loud. He’d much rather be at home, waiting to see who his wife was bringing him that night. But his pride was on the line.
Even though he’d been out of the dating game for a long time, he felt confident he’d be able to land a hottie and take her up to the hotel room they’d booked. He scanned the sea of people. It seemed full of possibilities. He locked eyes with a pretty raven haired woman behind the bar as she mixed a drink. She winked at him. Nancy had chosen this bartender as her vantage point to watch the proceeding.
She totally wanted him to win, which is why she pointed towards a small circular table where a couple of young women sat, chatting and giggling away. After observing them for a few seconds, he shot an upturned eyebrow back at Nancy. He knew these women were at least 21 years of age, but probably not a day older. They still had their whole lives ahead of them. He was just the man that could teach them a thing or two. Richard strode over confidently, believing that this would be over quickly, he’d be fucking one or both of them within the hour, and could go to sleep.
He assessed them as he got closer. The girl to his left was a curly haired brunette with a dazzling smile. She wore a short black dress, but didn’t have a lot going on in the chest department. That was okay. He was always partial to brunettes. They reminded him of his wife and his daughter Aubrey, although they had both been stacked.
To her right was a shoulder length blonde who was offering a generous amount of cleavage to all passersby in a low red blouse with lipstick that matched. His eyes lingered on her exposed skin, and it distracted him so much that he forgot to say anything upon his arrival.
“Can we…help you with something old man?” the blonde said with a pitying smirk.
“He looks lost,” the brunette giggled. “It seems like he’s trying to find directions to your tits.”
“Don’t even!” the blonde squealed, and whacked the brunette on the shoulder playfully. “I’m sure this grandpa is harmless.”
“Or he’s a dirty old man,” the brunette clapped back. “He’s gotta be, right? I mean he came over to our table. To what? Hit on us?” She crossed her legs and looked up at him as if she’d caught him doing something scandalous. “Do you even know how old we are, mister?”
“Um, uh, 21?” Richard replied as he tried to recover from their verbal assault.
“I am,” the blonde said, “But Kinzie here is only 19.”
“How did you…” Richard started to ask.
But the girl identified as Kinzie interjected. “Fake ID grandpa. What? They didn’t have those back in your day?”
“I don’t think they had that kind of technology back then,” the blonde added.
“Just had the wheel and fire, right gramps?”
“I am not that old!” Richard fumed.
“Yeah? How old are you then?” Kinzie asked with a raised eyebrow as she haughtily picked up her drink to take a sip.
“Old enough to…uh…teach you a few things,” Richard said as he tried to turn this interaction around.
This elicited a cringe response on both their faces that ended when they looked at each other and burst into a giggle fit.
The blonde’s eyes drifted down to Richard’s crotch, then back up to meet his. “Can you even get it up? I hear that can be a real problem for senior citizens.”
“I’m sure he can, Mckayla, withe the help of a pill!”
The giggle fit resumed in earnest, and Richard found himself wanting to retreat, from this table, from the premises from civilization. This had been a horrible idea.
Suddenly the bartender was at his side carrying a tray that had three drinks in martini glasses on it. “Here’s your drink sir, and how nice of you to buy a round for these two lovely ladies.”
“Ugh,” Kinzie said with an eye roll. “Well, a free drink’s a free drink.
She reached for it, but Mckayla hesitated and asked the bartender, “He didn’t pay you to slip something into it, did he?”
The bartender’s pretty face faltered as if she’d been slapped. But then she set her jaw, and said tightly, “I can assure you that he’d never have to do anything of the sort. Not when he has me.”
As Kinzie’s fingers curled around the thin stem of a glass, the bartender’s fingers brushed against her for the briefest of moments in a way that so often happens while passing something from one person to the next. A fleeting second of contact that feels both innocuous and yet strangely intimate. It is usually a moment that is here, then gone, but this time, it left a lingering effect in the form of a shudder that began in Kinzie’s hand.
“Excuse me?” Mckayla asked loudly in response to what the bartender had just said. But she got no response, because the bartender’s gaze had gone slack.
“Um, Mckayla, I think maybe I’ve had too much to drink,” Kinzie said as she looked at the tremor rapidly spreading up her arm.
Mckayla didn’t look at her friend but continued to study the bartender. It was like she was asleep, but her eyes were open. She was just standing as still as a statue holding the tray. “You’ve only had one Kinzie. I swear, you’re such a lightweight. You really should be building up more of a tolerance for the parties at college.”
“No, really, I…I think I want to go…” but the rest of what she might have said was lost as her mind was no longer her own.
“Just kidding!” Kinzie suddenly squealed. “I feel fine! In fact, I think we should go to this handsome guy’s room. You got a room, don’t ya mister?”
Mckayla’s jaw dropped as she turned her head away from the bartender towards her friend. “Are you fucking kidding me girl? You’ve got to be insane if you think that I’m going anywhere with grandpa here just cause he got us a free-”
But she stopped mid sentence as her friend grabbed her wrist, and it too began to shudder.
“What the hell? Why’s my arm fucking doing that? Am I having a stroke or some-”
But then Mckayla went quiet for a second before looking up at the bartender and taking the drink she’d previously insinuated was spiked. “Thank you, ma’am. Now go back and attend to your duties.”
“Yes,” the pretty bartender said in a flat tone before she turned away and went back behind the bar.
“So, stud,” Mackayla said as she eyed Richard up and down as if he were a snack. “I believe you were about to sit down and talk us two lovely ladies into having a threesome with you?” She set her glass down on the table and touched her friend’s hand.
Shudder.
A second later Kinzie said, “Yeah. We’d totally say yes. You can take us upstairs to your room and fuck us stupid. We’re both really nimble. We were both cheerleaders!” She touched Mckayla’s hand.
Shudder.
“I bet you like cheerleaders, don’t ya?” Mckayla said with a wink. “Especially ones that like kissing each other.” She looked at her friend and said, “Kiss me passionately.”
“Yes,” Kinzie said, and then their lips were together as they kissed each other deeply.
Shudder.
“So, what do you say?” Kinzie asked with her thousand watt smile.
Shudder.
“Please take us horny sluts up to your room and be our daddy for the night.”
This sudden reversal of fortune seemed to darken Richard’s mood. “Dammit Nancy! The deal was I do this on my own!”
Several people glanced at the tiny outburst from the older gentleman standing in front of the two young women. He seemed to be reprimanding them for something. Richard seemed to understand he’d made a scene, and smiled bashfully. A few seconds later, everyone went back to their drinks and conversations.
“I’m sorry, Richard,” Nancy’s voice came quietly out of Mckayla’s mouth. “It’s just, I heard these cunts being horrible to you and I thought we could teach them a lesson.” She put a hand on his leg and began sliding it upwards. “Together.”
Mckayla’s voice was back then. “Please mister. Please fuck some manners into us. Kinzie and I would learn so much from you.” She touched her friend on the arm.
Shudder.
“Yeah. Teach us Daddy,” Kinzie whined. “We’ll be good girls for you. We’ll even let you-”
“Enough,” Richard said quietly but firmly. “Anyone I take upstairs tonight will come because they want to. So…get out of these girls and let me get back to finding that person.”
“Fine!” Nancy said with an eye roll. “You still interested in teaching them a lesson though?”
“What did you have in mind?”
Nancy waved over the bartender who approached them quickly. Her eyes seemed less vacant than before, but there was still a bit of a haze there. Nancy casually brushed the back of Kinzie’s hand against the bartender, who shuddered.
“Well,” the bartender said, and she sounded as if she were recommending a drink. “Since you two are such good friends, you’re going to get each other off. I want you to go into the ladies room and strip naked, then toss your clothes out the window in there. Then go into a stall and begin licking and fingering each other. Try to make each other cum as fast as you can.”
“Yes,” they both said in perfect unison. They immediately stood, and with robotic grace walked to the ladies room.
“Well fuck me,” Richard said. “Now I want to go to the ladies room.”
“You had your chance,” Nancy said with a smirk. “Although I did memorize Mckayla’s address if you ever want me to go pay her a visit.”
A huge grin crept over Richard’s face. “I love you.”
“I know. Now get back on the horse and go get ‘em tiger. I’ll be over there watching. Best of luck. I do want you to have a happy birthday!”
“I think I’ll go hit on someone near the ladies room.”
“You do that, dear,” she said with a laugh, then went back to resume bartending.
Richard set off in the direction the two girls had gone. He passed by several people that looked like couples or were just trying to relax by themselves. He considered hitting on a few of them, but crossed off the ones that looked under 26. No more early twentysomethings. Too obnoxious and rude. He’d go aim a bit higher, which, he didn’t want to admit, would probably up his chances of success.
He decided on a professionally dressed woman in a light blue blouse and dark skirt sitting by herself. She wore her sandy blonde hair in a bun. She had glasses, and was staring intently at a laptop. If he struck out with her, she’d probably let him down gently unlike those first two had. He wondered if they were in the stall by now, their naked bodies pressed together invading each other’s holes with their tongues and fingers in a desperate attempt to make the other cum.
“This seat taken?” he asked with what he believed to be a suave demeanor.
“Huh, what?” the woman said, not bothering to look at him. “No? You can take it if you want.”
Richard was confused for a second, then understood. “No, I don’t need it for another table. I wanted to sit with you.”
This caused her to look up at him like he’d just said something very stupid. “Why?”
“Because…” he said, as he tried to think of something clever. He was beginning to wonder if he’d ever actually been clever in his life. “Because I wanted to get to know the prettiest woman in this bar.”
Her eyebrow raised and she gave him a quick up and down assessment. Then her lips pursed together like she’d tasted something sour. “Um…no. Thank you.”
Richard had been in sales for a long time, and never accepted the first no. Sometimes not the second. He could do this. He just needed a chance to show her what a catch he was. “I really think you’ll like me if you get to know me.”
“Probably not,” she said dismissively. “Because I tend not to like married men who hit on other women.”
This comment took Richard aback. “What? Why would you think I’m-”
“Wedding ring, dipshit,” the woman said, pointing at his left hand.
Despite the fact that Nancy’s actual body had been declared dead and they’d had a funeral and everything, to Richard, and to Nancy, she was very much alive. Of course he wore his ring. He’d never even thought about taking it off until this very second. Now he realized how foolish it had been to wear it while trying to pick up women in a bar. Then he had an idea.
“Oh, um…yeah, I’m…a widower. Just can’t bear to take it off.”
The woman’s eyes went wide and her face went very red. She began fidgeting with her hands as she apologetically blurted out, “Oh shit! I’m so sorry. I should not have…uh, has she been gone long? I mean…I didn’t mean to ask something so personal! I feel so bad! I honestly don’t know what to say.”
“How about you just let me buy you a drink and we get to know each other,” Richard offered as his confidence level soared to new heights. He glanced towards his wife behind the bar and signaled that he had someone on the hook.
The woman grimaced and said, “It’s really flattering, but…I have a deadline and-”
Richard interrupted. “It was a few years back when I lost her, but it still feels like yesterday. She was the love of my life, you know. Tonight was the first night I worked up the courage to put myself back out there.”
The woman’s expression became one of deepest sympathy and she closed her laptop. “I…I suppose one drink wouldn’t hurt. Uh…I’m Natalie.”
“Yes!” Richard exclaimed, and he couldn’t help but give a little fist pump. “That’ll show her.”
“Show who?”
Without thinking he said, “My wife. She didn’t think I could still get a woman to give me the time of…” He trailed off as he recognized his mistake.
The woman’s face shifted into one of loathing. “Wait! Was that whole dead wife thing a line?”
“No, I-”
“You’re disgusting. Go find someone else to be sleazy to,” she said with a wave of her hand.
“So close,” Richard said as he stood. Back to square one. He was a few steps away when a hand grabbed his shoulder and spun him around.
“Fine! Natalie said with a bit of contempt still etched on her face. “You wanna fool around, I could use a destresser. Let’s go.”
Richard couldn’t believe his luck! “I have a room we can-”
“I know someplace closer,” she said, and still clasping his hand, she drug him to the ladies room and pushed open the door.
They both stopped at the sight of two naked women who appeared to be having a wild night. Their hair was a mess and their lipstick was smeared. They were both attempting to cover their bodies with paper towels, but it was not working very well. At the sight of the woman, Kinzie said, “Ohmygosh can you please help us? We need some clothes. Can you-”
“Ah!” Mckayla yelled. “There’s a man with her!”
She made a better attempt to cover her boobs, but her crotch was very much exposed. Richard knew where some of Kinzie’s lipstick went, because some remnants of her shade were between Mckayla’s legs.
“It’s the old guy from before!” Kinzie hissed, and they both darted into a stall.
“Looks like this one has other stuff going on,” Natalie quipped, and pulled Richard out and into the men’s. She led him to a stall, pushed him inside and said, “Take off your pants.”
Richard’s fingers flew to his crotch where they momentarily seemed to forget how to unbuckle a belt.
“Let me help,” Natalie said with an eye roll. She sank to her knees and was much more adept at getting Richard’s pants off than he seemed to be. She made no pretense of why they were there as she yanked down his underwear. She took his cock in her hand, holding it up to be level with her face. Then she leaned forward and took him in her mouth.
“Oh fuck! That was fast!” he said. His mojo was back! It might not have worked the way he’d planned, but a win was still a-
He felt it then. A telltale shudder. He’d felt it many, many times while he and his wife made love. A shudder was the telltale sign of a bodyhopper moving into a new host. But it continued to happen intermittently while the hopper remained inside. It was a brief struggle of one soul dominating the other. It was like a reflex, and could even be done while a hopper slept, but it was also very noticeable, especially for someone who had been around hoppers as much as Richard.
“Seriously Nancy! Again!” he said as he pushed Natalie’s head back. He’d really been enjoying himself too, but his dick was suddenly deflating as he realized he’d been duped.
The woman’s face looked up at him sheepishly. “I thought I could get you off real quick before I shuddered and then you’d have a win and you could take me upstairs and fuck.”
Richard frowned, pissed that he was still 0 for 2. “Well, you almost got me there. Another 20 seconds of your world class dick sucking and I would have busted all over your face.”
She reached up and stroked his cock, which twitched hopefully in her hand. “You still could, darling. Seriously. I’m so horny in this body. I’d love it if you took me right here in this stall.”
Richard had to hand it to his wife. She could bring out the sluttiest part of any woman. He could take her right here and she’d never know because of how Nancy could alter her memories. But he shook his head and helped her to her feet.
“Wait! When did you even hop her?” he asked as he pulled his pants up.
She gave a small smile. “I’d just arrived to take your drink order when you got up to leave her table. A second later I was her, and pulled you into the bathroom so you wouldn’t notice the bartender right behind us.”
“That was so funny seeing those two girls in the bathroom.”
“That’s why I took you in there first. Did you see the lipstick on the one girl’s hoo ha?”
“Oh yeah.”
The couple burst out laughing, but then Richard said, “Okay, I’m going back out there. No help this time, understood?”
Nancy slumped Natalie’s shoulders. “I don’t think you know how much I want you to succeed, dear. I really need it right now. I might just rub one out in the stall real quick when you leave. Unless you want to watch?” She began to unbutton her blouse while she bit her lower lip. “You could still help this uptight business woman unwind?”
Richard left in a hurry before his wife could tempt him further. What did he do to deserve such a seductive creature?
As he left the restroom, he eyed the occupants of the bar with new determination. Third time’s the charm. He’d just…pick someone closer to his age. Not his preferred choice, but a gal with experience could certainly bring a lot to the table, or in this case, the bedroom. He pocketed his wedding ring as he circled the perimeter, finally coming back near the entrance where other hotel guests passed close by.
It was there he saw someone he’d passed by earlier. A woman in her early 40’s that he hadn’t really considered. She was quite striking though with her long auburn hair and legs that went on for miles. Richard thought she somewhat resembled Nancy in the face. And also the boobs. The woman was stacked.
She had a duffel bag on the chair next to her. Richard put a hand on the handle of the bag and said, “Mind if I move this so I can have a seat?” As he started to lift it, it began to shake. And growl.
The woman’s eyebrows shot up and she protectively reached for it and pulled it onto her lap. “Have a seat if you must, but Daisy doesn’t like to be jostled unnecessarily.”
Out of the top of the bag popped the face of an adorable Yorkshire terrier. Her furry brown face looked up into his and gave a small yip.
“Good girl,” the woman said with a small smile as she pulled the terrier out of the bag and put her on her lap. “She can be a very good judge of character. You must be a bad man.” The terrier growled at him.
Richard put his hands up and chuckled, then said to the small dog, “I can assure you I meant no harm little lady.” He held out a hand for her to sniff. The terrier did, and then gave his palm a lick.
The woman assessed him, and by her expression, she liked what she saw. “Perhaps you’re not terrible. Go ahead and have a seat.”
Richard did so. “I didn’t know you could have dogs in here.”
“You probably can’t,” the woman said with an air of indifference. “But she’s my emotional support animal. That’s what I tell everyone anyways.”
This annoyed Richard, but he tried hard to focus on her figure, something which the woman didn’t seem to mind him eyeing. “So, what’s your sign?”
This elicited a shrill laugh from the woman. “I haven’t heard that one in awhile.”
“I really need to get some new material.”
“Do you find yourself coming out to hotel bars often enough that you need to constantly refresh it?”
“Er, no,” Richard said. “I usually just stick with the basics. Like, hi, I’m Richard, and you are a very beautiful woman that I would like to get to know better.”
She cocked her head at him, studying him closely like a cat might before pouncing on a mouse, then said, “That was a much better line. I’m Crystal. What would you like to know?”
The two hit it off, and Richard found Crystal’s banter refreshing. She didn’t look at him like he was ancient, or pitied him in any way. Best of all though, she hadn’t shuddered once.
They were mid conversation discussing childhood pets when the bartender came up and asked, “Can I get you two anything?”
“I’ll take a bourbon,” Richard said, not taking his eyes away from Crystal.
“Nothing for me,” Crystal said as she tapped a glass she’d barely touched.
They both just stared at each other, mirroring a smile that belied a bubbling chemistry under the surface.
The spell was momentarily broken by the sound of the bartender clearing her throat. “Will you be taking that bourbon up to your room…sir?”
Richard looked up at the raven haired bartender. “In a bit. We’re in no rush.”
The bartender’s eyes narrowed, and her smile became tight lipped. “Of course…sir. By all means, take your time.”
As she walked away, she touched the shoulder of a woman passing by, who shuddered. That woman whispered something into the bartender’s ear, who went about her duties a moment later.
Richard was oblivious to this. He was enjoying the massive ego boost Crystal was giving him. He found himself opening up to her, sharing things like it was a first date. He was used to seeing different women all the time, but the conversation was always the same, because his wife knew everything about him. This was nice, so much so that he didn’t mind talking and throwing back a few. He was slightly worried that he’d pissed Nancy off, because she acted like she didn’t know him whenever she brought the drinks.
“Well, this has been lovely,” Crystal finally said. “But I should be going.”
“Oh, um, I was wondering if you wanted to…” Richard started, not entirely sure how to seal the deal.
She grinned at him and finished the proposition for him. “If I wanted to come up to your room and we have casual sex like grown adults?”
“Uh…” Richard stammered. “Y-yeah. I guess…that.”
“You’re very cute when you’re flustered.”
“Well if you’d like to see me flustered you should see me try to take my pants off when I’m really excited.”
She laughed. “I feel like I’m missing something.”
“Sorry, it’s just been awhile since I…”
“Mommy, mommy, she’s got a dog!”
A boy about five or six walking by the hotel bar area with his mom had broken free of her hand and ran to their table. The boy put his hand on the dog’s fur, and gave it a hard pet, causing the dog to shake at the sudden attention.
“Mason!” his mom snapped as she grabbed the boy’s arm and pulled him back. “We ask permission before touching someone’s pet. It might have bit you. I’m so sorry,” she said to Crystal as she backpedaled out of the bar with her son.
“No harm done,” Crystal said graciously.
“Mason, use your feet,” the mom admonished. “I feel like I’m dragging you out of here.”
When they were out of earshot, Crystal said, “Kids. They never can resist a cute dog like Daisy.” She gave her pet a loving pat. The dog looked at Richard and yipped playfully. Then she kept yipping.
“Well, if you’re going to start making all that noise, I probably should get you up to a room,” she said. “And it seems like we have options,” she said looking slyly at Richard. “Yours or mine?”
They both laughed and got up from the table. Richard let Crystal take the lead so he could wave at the pretty bartender, who didn’t seem to understand why he was pointing at Crystal and giving her the thumbs up. The bartender just smiled awkwardly back at him and returned the thumbs up.
Richard was glad his wife was letting him get a head start, knowing she’d show up soon. He and Crystal got in the elevator and faced the closing doors. He pressed the button to his floor, and as he did, he didn’t notice the dog’s nose reaching up out of the bag to press against Crystal’s hip. Nor did he see Crystal shudder a moment later.
“Let’s go to mine actually,” she said. “It’s on the top floor. The penthouse suite. Great view.”
“Um…” Richard said, unsure of what to do. It was okay. He could just call down and let his wife know they’d received an upgrade. “Sure thing.”
As soon as the doors were shut, her mouth was on his. He responded in kind, and their hands roamed freely about each other. The dog was oddly silent despite being jostled.
They practically fell out into the empty hallway when the doors opened. They were both panting and pulling at each other’s clothes as they stumbled their way to an ornate door. Crystal pulled out a card from a side pocket of Daisy’s carrier, and pressed it to an electronic device next to the door. The light went green, and the sound of a click could be heard. Crystal pushed her way in, and Richard stepped into a room that was much bigger than the one he thought he’d be sleeping in. There was an entire living room, kitchen, and bedroom area. And as he walked further in, he saw that Crystal hadn’t been kidding. There was an amazing view. He strode to the far side of the living room where a sliding glass door led out to a balcony. He opened it, and stepped out into the night. He was ten stories up, with the city a twinkling sea of lights below him.
“If you’d rather stay out there you can,” a sultry voice called from behind. “But I think you’ll find the view in here much more interesting.”
Richard turned and found that yes, the view was much better inside this penthouse suite. Crystal hand dispensed with her dress, and was standing in a black lingerie set that she must have been wearing underneath in the off chance she got lucky. With a body like hers though, she didn’t need luck. He was just glad he’d been the one she’d decided to take to bed, but he also chalked some of that up to his own good looks and charm.
He came over to her and pulled her into a kiss. He’d expected it to feel different kissing someone that his wife wasn’t possessing. New. Foreign. But…there was a surprising familiarity to it. New mouth, new tongue, but the way their mouths met was how he’d kissed Nancy for so many years.
An annoying sound went off in Crystal’s purse that she’d tossed onto the bed. It disrupted their entwined tongues. “Sorry,” Crystal said as she scooped her purse up. “That’s the alarm on my phone. I need to go…take my medication. High blood pressure.”
“Totally get it,” Richard started to say as Crystal quickly disappeared into the bathroom a few feet away. “I have high cholesterol.” He wasn’t sure if she’d heard all of that, because she’d slammed the door so fast.
What seemed like just a few seconds later though, she came out again. And her hands were behind her back.
“You found those pills fast,” he said. “It takes my wife a long time to dig anything out of her purse.” He went red immediately, as he realized his little slip of the tongue.
“Are you married, Richard?” she asked sweetly as the tension in her bra gave way as she released the clasp. She began to lower it, giving him a great view of her impressive breasts.
“Uh…y-yes,” he said.
“But you’re here with me?” she said in a teasing manner. “And you’re going to fuck me, aren’t you.” She hadn’t said it as a question, but as a fact.
Richard nodded quickly. “I am!”
“Does your wife know you’re here?” Crystal asked as her fingers began to unbutton his shirt.
“Yes, well, no, not here. She knows I’m in the hotel. It’s a long story, you see, it’s my birthday. She said I could have a threesome if I could pick up a woman at the bar.”
Crystal laughed softly. “Oh. So I’m expected to invite someone else up to my suite am I? Is your wife attractive?”
Richard thought that was a rather funny question since Nancy could be anyone she pleased. Currently, she was in that very pretty bartender. “Yeah, she’s…very attractive,” he said earnestly as he pulled out his phone to call the bar. “I can let her we’re in your suite so she can come up and-”
Crystal grabbed the phone from his hand and threw it with a smile onto the bed. “Not just yet. I want you to myself for a little bit. That okay?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said.
She winked at him as she unzipped his pants. “That was the right answer.” And then she was dropping to her knees, pulling his pants down as she went. Her fingers deftly moved to the hem of his boxers, which came down just as fast. “My, my!” she said as Richard’s sizeable erection popped out. She licked her lips at the sight of it. “Someone is very excited to see me.”
“Oh he is,” Richard chuckled. “So how do you want to-” was as far as he got before he gave a happy little strangled moan, because Crystal had taken him in her mouth. And the way she used her tongue, Richard knew this was not her first rodeo. His stamina had increased with age, probably because he was getting laid about every night from a different beautiful woman. But the way Crystal was sucking him, he wasn’t going to last long.
He tried to signal this by tapping her on the head, and then by sputtering a very coherent, “Um...”
But she kept going, getting him right up to the edge, and then…stopped just as quickly as she’d started. She’d seemed to know where his line was, and had backed off in the nick of time.
“Sorry,” she said as she stood and delicately wiped her mouth. “I just had to see if it tasted as good as it looked.”
Richard was trying to catch his breath as he asked, “And?”
“It was even better,” she giggled. Then she led him to the bed, and pushed him onto it. “What’s your favorite position, Richard?” she asked.
“Uh, basically just…”
“Whatever your wife wants?” Crystal finished for him. “You must be happily married,” she added with a wink. “Well, I like to be on top.”
“That works for me,” Richard said happily as he flopped his body against the bed.
Crystal started to crawl on top of him with a seductive smile, when her phone went off again. She blew a strand of hair out of her face as she got up and looked in annoyance in the direction of her phone. “Sorry. Just let me go take care of something real quick.”
“Whatever you need to do,” Richard said. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“I’m counting on it,” she said with a smile as she again slipped quickly into the bathroom.
Richard spied the hotel phone next to the bed, and reached for it.
“How can I help you?” a polite voice asked on the other end.
“Bar please?”
“Certainly.”
A second later the familiar voice of the bartender picked up. “Hello. What drink order would you like sent to your-”
Richard cut her off. “Nancy, it’s me. I’m in the penthouse suite. Come join us as soon as you can.” He heard the turning of the bathroom handle and said, “Love you!”
“Excuse me?” came the voice on the other end, but the receiver was already on its way forcibly back to its cradle.
“Ordering room service?” Crystal asked coyly as she reentered the room. She walked nimbly towards him with searching eyes.
“Huh? Oh, uh, yeah. Hope that’s okay?” Richard noticed she’d left her phone in the bathroom. Hopefully that was the last interruption.
“As long as you charged it to my room,” she said demurely. “Now, where were we? Oh yes. I think I was about to get on top of you and ride your dick until you cum inside my wet pussy.”
Richard stretched out and smiled. “Well, if you must.”
Crystal’s eyes flashed, and she looked almost predatory as she made her way onto the bed. She eyed his cock like it was a prize that was just there for her. She curled her fingers around it and gave it a gentle squeeze. It throbbed in appreciation. She leaned forward and pressed her large breasts against his chest. She made eye contact with him while she used the hand gripping his shaft to guide it in. Her mouth formed an ‘O’ the second he parted her. She stayed there for a moment, with just his tip in, then she rocked her hips forward, and he was suddenly deep inside her.
Richard let out the breath he hadn’t known he was holding when he felt the tip go in. Nancy always watched him very closely whenever he went into new pussy that she’d brought home. Crystal continued watching him closely too.
“So big,” she cooed. “So hard. So…familiar,” she said with a sly smile.
“Familiar?” he asked, his chest rising and falling from the way she was grinding her hips. This woman was something else. She really knew how to use her body.
In lieu of an answer, she leaned down again and kissed him passionately. She flexed her pussy as their tongues danced together.
Richard loved everything this woman was doing. Clearly she had a lot of experience, but what she said, and how she kissed him. It was so like Nancy would kiss him. He tried to ask her about it, but her mouth continued to cover his, almost as if she didn’t want him to talk yet. His hands came up to her face but she intercepted them and pushed them back against the bed, pinning him.
At last Crystal ended the kiss and raised her face up just enough so their noses touched. “Just like old times, Richard,” she purred.
And then her face moved rapidly in front of him, as her whole body gave way to a violent shudder.
Richard’s temper flared and he tried to push up, but Crystal held him down. “Nancy, what the hell! I wanted to do this on my own!”
A wicked smile spread across Crystal’s face as she continued to fuck him very slowly. “Afraid you’re mistaken, Richard. I’m not your wife. But I’m not Crystal either.”
_____________________________________________________________________
One hour earlier.
Nancy hadn’t planned on Richard’s foray back into the dating pool taking this long. She had needs! He knew this. And birthday or no, she needed to scratch that itch. The need to wrap her legs around him had increased exponentially as she watched him successfully hit it off with an attractive middle aged woman.
It was not lost on Nancy that Crystal somewhat resembled her as she had been a decade ago. She wished she could hop her. Find out her story real quick and make sure she wasn’t wasting her husband’s time. But that’d have to wait till later. She saw that every second Crystal spent with Richard was doing wonders for his self esteem. And it was also making Nancy jealous, something she had not felt in some time. She kind of liked it, because watching her husband interact from afar with a beautiful woman that she was not possessing spiked her lust. She wanted them to go upstairs now! But since they were taking their sweet time, Nancy decided to quell some of her desire by popping out for a quickie as someone else.
In a hotel, this prospect was incredibly easy. She grabbed a bottle of champagne and went to the front desk. She hopped the man behind a computer, looked up who was in a honeymoon suite, hopped back into the bartender, and went to one of the corresponding rooms.
There was a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign hanging from the door handle of the room she’d chosen. Nancy knocked anyway. A loud curse was heard along with the sound of giggles. A half a minute later, an attractive young man opened the door wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. He looked flushed and agitated.
“We put the sign on the door,” he spluttered.
“So sorry,” Nancy said as she held out the bottle of champagne. “We forgot to give this to you at the front desk as a way of congratulations.”
The man’s demeanor changed as he saw the expensive looking bottle. He reached out to take it. “Well…thanks I-”
But the words ceased as his fingers brushed the bartender’s, and a shudder spread rapidly through him. He smiled back at the bartender a moment later. “Go resume your duties. This shouldn’t take long.”
“Yes,” the bartender said vacantly, and left.
Nancy shut the door, and let the towel drop. She looked down at a semi flaccid penis that was rapidly reclaiming its hardened status. “Not bad. Now let’s see who’s the lucky recipient of this fine specimen.”
She went deeper into the room and found a gorgeous blonde wearing nothing but a smile. Nancy usually preferred being in a female during sex, but she figured what the hell. She’d show this bride a good time on her wedding night. She climbed confidently onto the bed and spread the woman’s legs.
“Oh!” she gasped. “Jackson you, you seem…more sure of yourself all of a sudden!”
Nancy smiled down at the pretty girl. She’d be letting Jackson keep his memory of what was about to transpire. “I’m just so excited to do this with you for the first time, Lilly.” And with that, Nancy thrust into her, and did her very best to last longer than five minutes. She made it to six, but redeemed herself by some fancy finger work on Lilly after. She got Lilly off three times, and then did some cuddling.
Nancy found the young man’s recovery time impressive, because she was hard again and ready to go in no time. Being in a young stud certainly had its advantages. She couldn’t help but compare Richard’s recovery time, which was 24 hours these days unless he took a pill. She didn’t like when he did that though, because they could be bad for his heart.
Nancy left a well fucked and very happy Lilly in the room to go ‘get ice’ for the champagne. She made sure to let Jackson keep the memory of what happened to be their first sexual encounter, and then hopped back into the bartender.
She surveyed the room and discovered quickly that her husband had left. She perused the bartender’s memories and discovered her husband’s phone call. He wouldn’t be in their room, but had hung up before saying which it was. She’d have to play detective. Thankfully that was very easy to do when you had complete access to someone’s mind from just a touch. She headed to the front desk again to find out where her man was.
___________________________________________________________________________
“What do you mean you’re not my wife,” Richard asked. “I…I saw you shudder, Nancy. Hell, I felt you shudder,” he added with a forced grin. He did not like whatever game his wife was playing.
The voice that came out of Crystal’s mouth was not her own, but that of a man, low and gravelly. “I miss playing the part of your wife, Richard. Did it for a few months, remember? You were a stallion back then. Always happy to fuck me every day.”
Richard knew that voice all too well, and a chill ran up his spine. “Nevyn. I thought you were dead.”
“Sorry to disappoint,” Nevyn said coldly. “But I’m afraid it’s not that easy to kill me. Some might say, it’s impossible. Uh oh…someone’s trying to get all soft on me.”
Crystal’s voice came back as Nevyn sat up straight and began bouncing on Richard’s cock. “We can’t have that, baby. If this voice keeps you nice and hard I’ll use it from now on while we fuck. Mm…that’s right. Stay nice and hard for me. I always did appreciate your big dick.”
“What do you want?” Richard asked, furious that his penis had a mind of its own.
“To wish you a happy birthday of course.” He brought Richard’s hands up to Crystal’s chest and placed them firmly on them. “Be a dear and hold these. Big tits like these need support when I really get going. And they liked to be squeezed. I know that’s something you’ve always been willing to do.”
“Nevyn, I can’t…we can’t…”
“Oh but we can,” Nevyn said with Crystal’s seductive voice. “We certainly used to. You made love to me every night, remember? I’d be waiting for you in the most scandalous lingerie. Nancy had stopped wearing it for you back then, but I had something provocative on that showed off her body for you all the time. And we used so many toys on each other. I really loved what you did with those handcuffs. You were an animal that night. Remember when I let you cover me in whip cream that other time. Ha! I know Derek remembers that night too. Our naughty son caught Mommy in the kitchen. He had to go back to his room and think about how you were gonna lick it off me. I was so loud that night. All so Derek could hear. So it would drive him nuts. Or should I say, drive him to nut.”
“Stop…talking about stuff like that,” Richard groaned, trying his best not to cum.
“Don’t play innocent with me, Richard. All this talk about me being in your wife and making her do all those kinky things is making you harder than ever. I can FEEL it because I’m as connected with you right now as anyone can be. Let me tell you something else you might not want to hear, but I know is the truth. You loved it when I was Nancy. You loved the kinky shit I let you do to her.”
Crystal’s body sped up as Nevyn began lifting her up higher and slamming down the length of him. “And I was happy to do it, Richard. Because your dick, well, it is really great. I’ve had thousands of cocks over the centuries, and yours was easily top five. It can stretch a girl out real nice. And your stamina, damn! It took a lot ot wear you out. You gonna have that same stamina tonight for me, Richard? Gonna make me cum on your big hard dick before you blow your load inside me like you used to? I loved that by the way. You always shot out so much! Hung like a horse and cums like one too. Oh I miss it Richard. Yeah! Fuck me like you used to!”
Richard hated how much he had liked that time. He’d always loved sex, and Nevyn had hopped Nancy during a dry spell in their lives. He’d used Nancy’s body to great effect. “Shut the fuck up! Oh fuck! Fuck! You’re sick! You’re a fucking psychopath!”
All of a sudden there was a loud knock on the door. “It’s me!” a voice called.
“That’s Nancy,” Richard said as relief washed over him.
“I knew she’d be along shortly,” Nevyn said as he continued to ride Richard. “And what good timing. Tell her to come in. I’m sure she has a key with since she is probably in the body of a hotel staff member.”
It seemed to Richard that Nevyn was five steps ahead of him. That wasn’t unusual. There was a reason that Derek and Aubrey had struggled to catch him for so long.
A hard slap across his face cleared the thoughts from his mind, and then Nevyn’s voice hissed menacingly, “I said tell her to come in.”
He wanted to protect his wife, but she was immune to Nevyn’s bodyhopping abilities. She should be fine. It was him that was at risk, so he yelled, “Come in Nancy!”
Just outside the door Nancy wondered why Richard wasn’t coming to let her in himself, but…maybe the woman, whose name she’d learned was Crystal, had him tied to the bed or something. She could only hope. What a fun night this could turn out to be.
She pressed a master key card against the locking mechanism and pushed the door open. There was her husband underneath the beautiful woman, who was craning her neck to look back at her.
“Nancy,” the woman called out. “So good to see you again. Your husband’s just as good as I remember, and if I’m not mistaken, given his shortness of breath and the way he can’t help but thrust his hips under me, he’s about to cum.”
“Richard, you’d better wait until-” Nancy began with a smile on her face. But it faltered as her mind started to piece together the words Crystal had just said, and another layer of tension was added by the fearful expression on her husband’s face.
“It’s Nevyn,” he moaned. “Ah! Dammit!” His whole body tensed as his cock began to pulse.
“Oh yes!” Nevyn cheered. “That’s it. There’s so much! Let it out! Here, I’ll help you!”
Richard felt Crystal’s vaginal walls flex and milk every drop from him. He also felt Nancy watching him in a mix of shock and horror. He mouthed, ‘I’m sorry.’
“It’s not your fault, honey,” she said. Then her tone turned to ice as she looked at Nevyn. “Get off him you sick freak. You’ve had your fun.”
Richard wondered if he could push Nevyn off and run. But it would only take a touch for Nevyn to possess his body. He felt his dick slide out of Crystal’s pussy, and his cum began to leak out of her onto his torso.
“I will when I’m ready,” Nevyn’s voice growled. He switched back to Crystal’s voice. “Did you ever tell your wife that you liked her more when I was possessing her?”
Richard looked at his wife pitifully “Honey, that’s not-”
Nevyn clucked his tongue. “Let’s not lie, Richard. I went through your memories when I visited your house this last week.”
“What’re you talking about?” Nancy asked.
“Don’t interrupt me when I’m talking!” Nevyn’s voice bellowed. He quickly switched back to the seductive tone of Crystal as he stroked Richard’s face. “I looked way back and saw that you were very happy during the time I pretended to be your wife. You never told her that, but it’s the truth. I was better at making you happy than she ever was. I was such a good wife and perfect slut for you in her body.”
“He’s lying!” Richard yelled.
“It’s fine, honey,” Nancy said. “He’s just trying to wind us up.”
Nevyn smiled. “Aw, you guys are sweet. Might as well get down to business then. I need to make a phone call to your kids. I’m sure you got a way to reach them, don’t you?”
Richard shook his head.
“Liar,” Nevyn spat. “Well, I guess say goodbye to Nancy, Richard.”
“What!” Richard blurted, and then he felt the shudder begin in his groin and spread out like lightning through his body. His face turned to Nancy. “I love you!” he said.
And then he blinked. And Richard was no longer in control.
“Get off me,” Nevyn said from underneath a now vacant eye’d Crystal. She immediately did, getting off him and standing expressionless at the side of the bed.
Nancy watched nervously as her husband’s body got up from the bed and went to dig his phone out of the pants that he’d tossed into a corner. “Just…let him go, please,” she begged.
“I will,” Nevyn said while he initiated a video call. “After I’ve delivered a message to Derek and Bri.” He walked over to the sliding glass door and opened it.
A second later, Aubrey’s face came on the screen. “Hey Derek! Dad’s calling. Happy birthday Dad!”
Another face pushed its way onto the screen, that of a pretty redhead with lots of freckles. “Hey Dad! Happy birthday! Sorry we couldn’t be there. Mom do something special for you?”
“She took me to a hotel with a great view!” Nevyn said imitating Richard’s voice and cadence flawlessly. “Wanna see?” He turned the camera so they could see the city lights below.
“Aw, that’s nice,” Aubrey gushed. “Is she there?”
Nevyn turned the phone so they could see the body that Nancy was in. The kids, used to this, called out, “Hi mom!”
“Nevyn’s not dead,” she replied grimly. “He’s here, inside your father.”
Nevyn turned the camera back to their father’s face. He’d wiped it off its smile, and traded it for a darkened scowl directed at Nancy. “Your family really sucks at letting me have any fun.”
The twins' faces had become hardened masks.
“Leave our parents alone, Nevyn,” Derek’s voice said harshly.
“What?” Nevyn said menacingly. “The way you left me alone? The way you keep trying to track me down. I know you don’t want to lock me away somewhere. You want to kill me!”
He’d shouted those last two words, making Nancy jump.
“I know you thought you had, but I’ve learned something, unlike you two and anyone else with my gene, I can’t be killed. Isn’t that great! But I CAN be annoyed at having my plans interrupted. So I’m going to respond to your attempt on my life, by an attempt on someone you love. I just think I’ll be a little more successful. Let’s find out, shall we?”
And with that, Nevyn swung a leg over the balcony railing, and leapt off.
Screams pierced the air as Nancy rang to the edge and looked down. They came from Nancy, and from the phone that Nevyn had pulled close to Richard’s chest. He held it in such a way that when his body met the ground, the phone remained intact. Aubrey’s scream could still be heard from the speaker.
In the busy downtown district, a crowd quickly formed. Nancy watched as a man approached her husband’s body. “Don’t touch him!” she yelled, but no one on the ground could make it out.
But the twins also knew the danger and understood what would come next. “Get away from him!” Derek cried.
“Stay away!” Aubrey shouted.
But all it takes is one touch.
The man touched Richard’s arm, and immediately began to shudder as Nevyn’s soul passed from their dead father, into the stranger, who then took the phone out of Richard’s hand and held it to his face.
“If you get in my way again,” Nevyn warned. “This is how it will end for all of you.”
With that, he ended the call, and walked away past the crowd, satisfied that he’d been understood.
_______________________________________________________________________
Epilogue
65 years later.
Derek sat in the passenger seat as Stephanie drove them out of Maine. They had one more stop to make before they made the long journey to headquarters. Derek hadn’t been back there since coming into possession of the mirror. That had been for his safety, and everyone else’s. At a place filled with active bodyhoppers, the mirror was sexual napalm, and the ramifications could be catastrophic. It really said something about the current state of the world that it was worth the risk.
Stephanie had assured him that all the pieces were coming together. They finally had the means to track Nevyn after he’d created a world filled with people just like him. But if Derek could just get near him, it would all be over. The world still might not be the same, but at least, if his hypothesis was right, the body swapping everyone worldwide was experiencing would finally come to an end.
He became aware that his hand was in the bag. His fingers were running along the smooth wooden handle. It called to him.
“This isn’t going to end well, you know,” Bekka’s voice said in his head.
“I know,” Derek said aloud.
“Know what?” Stephanie asked.
“Nothing,” Derek grunted. “I just talk to myself sometimes.”
“I’ve noticed.”
Stephanie gripped the steering wheel tightly as they passed a POM security vehicle. She breathed easier after she saw it continue on its way in their rearview. She reached into her pocket and took out a phone. “It’s a burner. Untraceable. Call the saved number. Someone really wants to talk to you.”
Derek took it and fumbled with the small device with his large calloused hands. He finally found the contact, and pressed it.
It barely rang when a middle aged blonde woman appeared on the screen.
“Hi Derek,” she said with a wide smile.
Despite himself, Derek smiled back. “How’d you know it was me?”
“A mother always knows.”
He nodded. “It’s good to see you. Sorry I’ve been away so long. But I’m glad it’s finally time. Ready to help set the world right, Mom?”
“I am. All of us are ready to do whatever it takes to stop Nevyn, and we can track him now thanks to Trevor. Thanks for sending him to us by the way, he’s been really great. Like, REALLY great.”
Derek tried to keep the smile on his face, but at the sound of the shapeshifter’s name, his grip involuntarily tightened on the mirror’s handle. “You don’t have to elaborate mom, I get it. It’ll be good to see all of you soon. And to finally have justice for dad.”
To be continued in Shudder: Worldwide.
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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…
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…
possession Demon Spooky Island
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AziAzi
· 14 Sep 2025
You and your friends get invited to stay at Spooky Island, and you couldn’t help but be excited for it! Your group arrives at the island and are pleasantly surprised by what you see, unaware of the evil hiding within the island.
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You were freaking out, some monster had replaced Sydney... and you're not sure what to do. There aren't any return flights until the end of the week, so you have to survive till then. You want to tell your friends about this, but would they even believe you?
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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!
The air in my apartment was thick with exhaustion and the lingering stench of energy drinks. Finals had officially wrecked us—Kevin was sprawled across the couch like a corpse, James was rubbing his temples like he was trying to erase the last 72 hours from memory, and Steve and Russel were slumped on the floor, barely conscious.
Russel scrolled lazily through his phone before suddenly sitting up. "No way. You guys seeing this shit?" He turned the screen toward us, revealing a Reddit thread with the title: "BodyPossession.com is LEGIT—I spent an hour as my hot neighbor and now I’m addicted."
Kevin snorted. "Yeah, and I’m Elon Musk. That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard."
James groaned. "If people could just steal bodies, the world would be a nightmare. Think about it—politicians, celebrities, your ex? Total chaos."
Russel smirked. "Tell that to the thousands of people swearing it works. Says you upload a pic, pay in crypto, and boom—first hour’s free. Like a trial run."
Steve, who had been half-asleep, cracked an eye open. "Okay, hypothetically—if this wasn’t complete bullshit—who would you even possess?"
A slow, stupid grin spread across my face.
I grabbed my laptop. "Only one way to find out."
The guys groaned, half-heartedly protesting, but curiosity got the better of them as they crowded behind me. I typed BodyPossession.com into Google, fully expecting nothing but scam links.
But there it was—first result. No shady redirects, no sketchy warnings. Just a sleek black-and-white homepage with bold letters:
"TEMPORARY BODY HOSTING. FIRST HOUR FREE."
Silence.
Russel exhaled. "What the actual fuck."
Kevin jabbed my arm. "This has got to be fake."
I clicked the gallery. Hundreds of faces loaded—some smiling for the camera, others caught unaware, like the site had scraped every social media profile in existence. A cold tingle slithered down my neck, but I ignored it, scrolling faster.
"Let’s keep it simple," I said, pulling up the Drews’ Instagram—our insanely hot neighbors who lived one floor above us.
Samantha Drew, late 40s but looking like she could pass for a decade younger, full lips and curves that made yoga pants look like a crime. Henry Drew, six-foot-something of sculpted muscle, the kind of guy who probably bench-pressed his kids for fun. Their daughter, Sophie, medical student by day, knockout by night, with that dangerous combo of brains and a body that belonged in a magazine. And the twins—Abby, a lithe, bright-eyed brunette with legs for days, and Lance, her cocky, broad-shouldered counterpart who acted like the dorm showers were his personal runway.
Steve let out a low whistle. "Oh yeah. Mom’s mine."
"The hell she is," James snapped, elbowing him. "Dibs don’t mean shit—this isn’t monopoly."
Russel pinched the bridge of his nose. "Guys. First things first—who the hell gets last pick? Because I know none of you are volunteering."
I tuned them out. My fingers moved before I could second-guess—cropping Henry’s sharply defined jawline from a Cabo vacation pic and dropping it onto the site.
HOST SELECTED: HENRY DREW
FIRST HOUR FREE. SESSION BEGINS IN 10…
Kevin yanked at the laptop. "John, no—think for one goddamn second—!"
Russel just cackled. "Oh, you beautiful, reckless bastard—"
The screen flared white.
Then—nothing.
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!
The air in my apartment was thick with exhaustion and the lingering stench of energy drinks. Finals had officially wrecked us—Kevin was sprawled across the couch like a corpse, James was rubbing his temples like he was trying to erase the last 72 hours from memory, and Steve and Russel were slumped on the floor, barely conscious.
Russel scrolled lazily through his phone before suddenly sitting up. "No way. You guys seeing this shit?" He turned the screen toward us, revealing a Reddit thread with the title: "BodyPossession.com is LEGIT—I spent an hour as my hot neighbor and now I’m addicted."
Kevin snorted. "Yeah, and I’m Elon Musk. That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard."
James groaned. "If people could just steal bodies, the world would be a nightmare. Think about it—politicians, celebrities, your ex? Total chaos."
Russel smirked. "Tell that to the thousands of people swearing it works. Says you upload a pic, pay in crypto, and boom—first hour’s free. Like a trial run."
Steve, who had been half-asleep, cracked an eye open. "Okay, hypothetically—if this wasn’t complete bullshit—who would you even possess?"
A slow, stupid grin spread across my face.
I grabbed my laptop. "Only one way to find out."
The guys groaned, half-heartedly protesting, but curiosity got the better of them as they crowded behind me. I typed BodyPossession.com into Google, fully expecting nothing but scam links.
But there it was—first result. No shady redirects, no sketchy warnings. Just a sleek black-and-white homepage with bold letters:
"TEMPORARY BODY HOSTING. FIRST HOUR FREE."
Silence.
Russel exhaled. "What the actual fuck."
Kevin jabbed my arm. "This has got to be fake."
I clicked the gallery. Hundreds of faces loaded—some smiling for the camera, others caught unaware, like the site had scraped every social media profile in existence. A cold tingle slithered down my neck, but I ignored it, scrolling faster.
"Let’s keep it simple," I said, pulling up the Drews’ Instagram—our insanely hot neighbors who lived one floor above us.
Samantha Drew, late 40s but looking like she could pass for a decade younger, full lips and curves that made yoga pants look like a crime. Henry Drew, six-foot-something of sculpted muscle, the kind of guy who probably bench-pressed his kids for fun. Their daughter, Sophie, medical student by day, knockout by night, with that dangerous combo of brains and a body that belonged in a magazine. And the twins—Abby, a lithe, bright-eyed brunette with legs for days, and Lance, her cocky, broad-shouldered counterpart who acted like the dorm showers were his personal runway.
Steve let out a low whistle. "Oh yeah. Mom’s mine."
"The hell she is," James snapped, elbowing him. "Dibs don’t mean shit—this isn’t monopoly."
Russel pinched the bridge of his nose. "Guys. First things first—who the hell gets last pick? Because I know none of you are volunteering."
I tuned them out. My fingers moved before I could second-guess—cropping Henry’s sharply defined jawline from a Cabo vacation pic and dropping it onto the site.
HOST SELECTED: HENRY DREW
FIRST HOUR FREE. SESSION BEGINS IN 10…
Kevin yanked at the laptop. "John, no—think for one goddamn second—!"
Russel just cackled. "Oh, you beautiful, reckless bastard—"
The screen flared white.
Then—nothing.
possession
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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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Kent is young guy that has to spend the summer paying off his debt after accidentally damaging his bitch of a neighbour Julie’s car while playing a game with his friend Marcus. Kent resigns himself to working as Julie’s glorified servant, that is until he finds an odd looking idol that allows him to possess her body. Now with a summer of freedom ahead and Julie’s hot body to do with as he pleases, Kent is looking forward to making up for lost time and having some fun.
Note: This is a commissioned work that has not been personally written by me. I have been granted permission to distribute and share the story by the original author.
The push mower's dull rattle droned in Kent’s ears, blades whirring through the grass. His body strained beneath the midday sun, and through damp lashes, he caught the blur of a cherry-red convertible roaring down the road—top down, laughter trailing like exhaust.
“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, wiping away another hand of sweat.
The mower sputtered as he yanked it over a thick patch near Julie’s hydrangeas. He imagined Marcus at the wheel, music cranked, their friends crowded in the back seat, already sunburned and salty from the ocean. They wouldn’t miss him today; they probably hadn’t even noticed he wasn’t around these days.
The sun seared, hammering against his back, arms, the nape of his neck where his hair stuck and tangled. Kent tried not to groan, but it was getting harder not to resent the injustice of it all. He trudged along, kicking dust into the air, each pass of the mower a reminder of how thoroughly he'd been screwed.
Two weeks ago, he’d been carefree, tossing a ball back and forth with Marcus in his front yard. It had all gone wrong so fast: Marcus’ wild throw, laughing at Kent’s half-hearted protest, goading him to catch it. Kent squinted against the sky; his hand fumbled the air. The dull clang was the sound of his afternoon crashing against Julie’s car, leaving a perfect circle of incrimination in the glossy finish.
They'd both stared—Marcus with lips curled around the brink of a "whoops," and Kent with his gut unraveling through his shirt.
Marcus caught his eye and smiled like he’d planned the whole thing. "No one saw. Chill, man!" Kent opened his mouth, closed it, hoped it wasn’t as big a deal as he feared.
It was.
The door slammed with the sharp report of impending disaster, and there was Julie in full fury, an avenging angel with a tan. "Which one of you incompetent brats—" She halted, eyes narrowing at the guilty-looking crease on her convertible’s door. Her voice fell, low and venomous. "—thinks this is funny?"
Kent swallowed. He hated the dryness in his mouth, the stickiness on his palms. He hated the dent in the car, hated Marcus's grin, and hated even more how it slid away into something else. Something innocent, friendly. "Hey, Ms. Bentley. We were just leaving a note."
She crossed the lawn with the gait of someone used to having her way, every step as dangerous as an exclamation mark. "Try again, boys."
"We were—"
"He threw it," Kent interrupted. "It got away from him. We’ll get it fixed."
"Kent..." Marcus raised his eyebrows, a betrayed chorus of one.
"You’re damn right you’ll get it fixed." Julie’s attention speared Kent and held. He could feel Marcus shifting, inching toward the door. "And you’ll work off every cent. Both of you."
The pause stretched longer than the afternoon sun. "I guess I can help," Marcus finally said, with the agonized reluctance of a guy donating a kidney. "If I don’t work weekends, and if Mom doesn’t ground me again—"
"Save it," Kent muttered, already caught, already sentenced. He’d seen this play out before. "I’ll take care of it."
Marcus’s hand clamped on his shoulder with all the sincerity of a condolence card bought half-price. "Thanks, bro. I’ll owe you."
"I know you will," Kent had replied, staring past Julie's gloating smile to where Marcus, framed by sunlight and betrayal, had slouched away.
Back in the present, the sun hadn’t moved. Kent kicked the mower into a new row, ignoring how his arms shook from the effort, ignoring how his thoughts spun through pointless what-ifs. He ducked his head, let the work and heat crush him down until he was too small to bother with.
The next pass went easier. Resignation did that—took the sting out of unfairness like Novocain. Kent mowed numbly, lines and rows blurring into one another until the grass lay behind him.
Two more weeks of this? A lifetime? Might as well. Julie was a woman who knew how to wield silence as well as threats. Not for the first time, Kent wondered why Marcus ever threw the damn ball.
He finished, choked the mower dead, wiped sweat from his eyes. His skin felt crispy and tight. All he needed was a dive, no a dip—of his toe into the pool. That would fix it all.
"Is this a joke to you?" Julie's voice, another thing that refused to wilt in the heat.
Kent was shaken back to the present, and caught in the scent of chlorine and coconut oil threading through the afternoon air. He was standing on the edge of the water as Julie stretched relaxingly, every move as intentional as the flick of her gaze.
Her bikini clung like sweat, and Kent's eyes traced its path against his will.
"This isn't acceptable," she said. "Again."
He wanted to disappear into the chlorinated depths, but she was already lounging back, already dismissing him from her thoughts as she dangled new chores between them like a cat with an injured mouse.
"A kid your age shouldn’t have such a hard time keeping up." Julie's eyes glinted like a promise he wasn't going to get. Kent swallowed a retort, tasted salt on his upper lip instead. She knew the effect she had, both in giving orders and ignoring them. "My daughter could do better."
"I doubt that." The words slipped out with a touch more venom than he'd meant.
Kent turned away, wanting to muffle the clink of ice against her glass with his own hands around her throat. Or maybe his own hands around his own throat. He couldn’t decide.
"I don't need attitude. I need that lawn mowed right."
It was a subtle dance of dominance. One she performed like a pro, even reclining. Julie's skin shone like polished bronze under the sun. The same sun had Kent looking like a washed-up sweat rag by comparison. A rag that hadn't worked off his debt, yet.
Julie glanced back at the pool, effectively tossing him from her thoughts, while he stood dumbly in the tangle of lust, obligation, and a boy’s last ounce of pride.
"You want me to go over it again?" His voice cracked—broke around the words.
Her chin tilted up, uninterested. "If it’s not perfect, you’ll keep doing it until it is. Start with the hedges. I expect more from you."
Kent shuffled away, back toward the toolshed.
Home. Kent made his way home that night, in a huff. The familiar house sat quiet and useless, just like his last three paychecks.
Mom greeted him as he trudged through the kitchen door, hand resting on his shoulder—too gentle to be real sympathy. Dad folded a corner of the paper down, equally gentle. "Get it all finished up?"
Kent slumped into the chair across from them, felt himself sink. "Not quite. She keeps adding stuff—"
Mom shook her head. "She wouldn’t do that if you did it right the first time, honey."
"I did do it right! She’s just—" Beautiful, unreasonable, half-naked, impossible. The words tangled up in each other, fell into a frustrated heap at his feet. "—Julie. I’ll never get it done."
Dad was halfway through a reply when Kent cut in. "Can you at least admit this is bullshit?"
"Language, Kent." Mom’s voice held the same note Julie’s did. "You know why you have to finish. We’ve been over this. A hundred times."
"A thousand," Kent grumbled, feeling very young and very old at once.
"A hundred," Dad agreed, unfolding another section of newspaper.
It wasn’t what Kent wanted, but it was more than he'd get from Julie. "She says it’ll take weeks."
"Not if you stick with it," Mom said.
That sounded suspiciously like something he told himself when he woke up to do it all over again.
"I’m not being unreasonable. Marcus should—"
Dad’s look cut him off. "Marcus should listen to his mother and be more like you. Get your things done instead of complaining. It’ll build character, son."
Kent braced against the edges of their insistence, the too-smooth conviction he felt slipping past him like oil on water. He needed it rougher, sharper, like sandpaper. Instead, they filed him down to nothing, left him to carry the pieces.
"Yeah," he mumbled. "Character."
Kent walked through the inferno to Julie’s again the next morning. The sprinklers had done more to cool the yard than he ever would.
She let him in, and Kent found himself in the toolshed again. He was being dramatic, he knew it, but he saw himself doomed to middle age before he left this hellscape.
That’s why you did it, Marcus. To build character. That’s what Kent wanted to believe.
He hoisted a gas can, hated the way it felt so familiar. "Get it all finished up?" he muttered, mocking more than himself.
At the edge of the yard, Marcus’s words snagged his thoughts. "Thanks, bro. I’ll owe you."
Kent cringed inwardly, the flashback was as unwelcome as Marcus’s easy grin. He wasn’t getting anything out of this. The mower whirred to life again, drowning out the last bit of sanity Kent had.
Task 2: Move an ungodly amount of boxes.
Julie watched from the side of the pool again, an ice cube balanced between her lips, as Kent hauled a heavy box across the patio. His steps were an awkward choreography of anger and heat exhaustion. She stretched a leg, attention already back on her phone. "I’m not running a charity, Kent. I expect all of those moved by the end of the day."
His body screamed for rest, but he plowed forward. If she wanted to break him, it would take more than a few shopping sprees and heat waves to do it.
"Commitment, Kent. I need to see you’re committed to paying what you owe," Julie said. She reached lazily for a magazine. Kent nearly buckled under the weight. The sprinklers sputtered on, mocking him. His arms throbbed, and the boxes felt heavier with every step.
Kent glared back at the pool. "Is this all of them?"
Julie sipped her drink, feigning deep consideration. "We'll see, won’t we?"
The heat was a solid thing. He dragged himself back for the next load, ignored the stubborn itch of humiliation as he passed her sun chair. Julie's skin was already bronzed, glowing against the red of her bikini like Christmas in July. She wasn't even watching. Her complete lack of attention chafed worse than his sticky shirt. Maybe this wasn’t better than the lawn.
Kent shook his head and moved another box.
Julie seemed perfectly at ease, flipping the pages without even glancing at him. In turn, each glance he stole fueled the resentment he was supposed to be working off. No, it grew. Larger than him, larger than life.
Kent sighed. Three trips later and Kent's shoulders felt like they were shredding. Julie's calm was like ice in his throat, grating.
She made a bored gesture in his direction.
"I’m going, I’m going," he muttered, head lowered. Prisoner.
"I almost believe you, dear."
Kent rubbed his shoulder, wished he could ignore it as easily as she ignored him. He wanted to break something, maybe her resolve. Maybe his own.
Halfway through the stack, the boxes became heavier. How? Kent’s eyes bulged as her struggled to keep a box in his arms, needing to use his legs to stabilise it.
"Careful," she called without looking up, her foot dangling in the pool. The water, like the entire house, was a universe away. His jaw tightened like the strings of a cheap violin. His actions were almost noble if nobility felt like dirt, grit, and sarcasm. Maybe he wouldn’t get what he wanted—freedom, the beach, even Julie’s attention—but he could work until nothing mattered.
Task 3: Clean the attic.
Kent sneezed.
The attic smelled like dead things, old things, dust and age and memories. Light filtered through a single window, and dust motes mocked him as they danced around. He waved a hand in front of his face, spitting out dirt and frustration in equal measure.
Julie’s voice floated up the stairs, a siren call to hell. "Get it all done, Kent."
He choked on a reply and another sneeze. This was the worst. His arms screamed for relief, but he grabbed a broom instead. Webs clung to every part of the room, and Kent wondered if a spider bit him what kind of superpowers he’d get. Maybe he’d turn into a kid who had some actual free time.
Kent swept the floor with the same dedication that had gotten him here in the first place. He imagined Marcus at the beach, surrounded by friends and bikinis that weren’t his boss’s. The broom handle dug into his blistered palms, and he pushed harder, until the pile of dust and dirt became a small mountain of failure.
He coughed, doubled over. This was pointless. He rubbed his face with a dirty shirt sleeve, smeared the mess across his cheek. A week ago he might have cared.
The broom thudded against the wall. He leaned against it, feeling the sting of dust and sweat in his eyes. It was a lost cause. The whole thing.
Something caught his eye. A figure, cloaked under a dusty wool blanket. He reached for it, more curious than he should have been, and pulled the fabric away.
A doll? An idol?
Kent almost laughed at the absurdity. An old-fashioned thing, with yellowing lace and painted eyes that stared past him like Julie did. He wiped his hands on his shirt, reached for it, fingers closing around the figure. Maybe it—
One touch, and it was the last contact he had, the last time he felt a thing.
One step, and he felt himself shift and separate, pulling apart like a zipper splitting seams that held his mind and body tight. There was a ripping sensation, a fraying sensation, and then a lightness so complete Kent thought he might disappear entirely.
“What the hell is this?!” he screamed in his mind.
Kent looked down at his hands, saw them glowing a pale blue that didn’t hide what was behind them. See-through? Transparent? He was floating-feather light, above the attic floor. Above the mess he’d made of it, above his own body, which was slumped where he’d left it.
His first thought was to panic. His second thought was that he already had. He drifted forward, then back. What just happened?
Was he dead?
No, that wasn’t right. Dead people didn’t get mad, and Kent was mad as hell. He was anything but dead.
He was alive, more alive than he ever felt. Alive, free of the heat and the drudgery and the persistent ache of muscle and bone. Alive, free, and…shimmering?
Kent felt the spark of something he hadn’t felt in weeks. Possibility.
His spirit stretched into the attic's corners, testing his new reach, dancing through the crowded loft. He shot past his old body, tempted to wave. He'd give it up again without a second thought. Let Julie wonder what magic swapped out her slave, wonder what left her so completely she couldn’t yell at it.
Kent skipped through the abandoned boxes, gliding over ancient bags, years of forgotten excess. One flick of his ghostly finger set the attic in motion, objects swaying like they finally believed in ghosts.
They had to believe. Kent wasn't even trying, not yet. He might have spent the entire day haunting her past, finding new things to set loose.
He stuck his head through the attic wall, through the attic floor, and stared at the room below. It was upside down, or maybe he was? Not that it mattered when he could fly—when he could phase. He could phase through walls. Kent laughed at the brilliance of it, the sheer giddiness of going where no one wanted him. He stretched his spirit like a growing boy, like a growing thought, and shot down into Julie’s world.
He peeked out through the window, head first of course. Then his shoulders followed, then his legs. Next thing, Kent was soaring over the manicured lawn that he manicured. He stopped short of her lawn chair, hovering in the blistering summer heat. He felt none of it. Nice!
The chair, the yard, the entire universe looked different when it wasn't pushing him around. A magazine perched on the small table next to her. She relaxed, as fully and completely as if he'd never existed.
Kent watched, waiting to see if she'd notice the power shift. Notice him. It was all he could do not to burst with thrill of possibilities.
But nothing happened. No matter how long he stared at her, she barely felt his eyes on her.
Then he nudged it, pushing at the magazine with a single finger. It slipped from the table, fluttering down onto the grass.
She glanced at it, not even removing her sunglasses. "Wind’s picking up," she mumbled, and leaned back into her own self-absorption.
"Okay," he thought to himself. "If you want to play, let’s play."
Kent pulled at the towel that draped her sun chair. It slipped to the ground with a thud. This time, Julie's eyes popped open. She stared around the yard like she'd just seen him flung from the roof, like her furniture flung itself from the roof.
Her eyes were slits, suspicious, curious, but not afraid. "Ha ha," Kent heard her say. Fine.
He tugged next at the sunscreen, nudging it off her lap, and watching it roll into the water. Julie sat up. Her brow furrowed, and after a long second she slowly slid the sunglasses down her nose. Kent almost laughed. She was so used to getting her way, she couldn't comprehend the universe acting out.
“It’s not funny,” she shouted at cosmic injustice, and at Kent. “Who’s there?”
Kent hovered above her, a cheeky grin spread across his face. The rules had changed—she was playing the game now, and he was the game master. Kent shoved at the drink in her hand, watched as it splashed cold ice, and lemonade on her sun-warmed skin. Julie yelped, surprised. An ice cube melted between her fingers, over her navel, all along the exact same path Kent’s thoughts wanted to travel.
This time, she stood.
However, it was the wrong move.
Kent yanked at the string on her bikini, wild and reckless. The top slipped loose, and before he could whoop with victory, the world stopped.
It happened again.
The same shifting, the same separation. Julie’s spirit rose out of her body like steam from a kettle. She stared down at herself, and then right through him. Kent froze. Her spirit paused, hovered.
Then Kent did what he did best.
He panicked.
How to fix this? How to fix this? How to not get caught?
Kent grabbed at Julie’s astral form, desperate to reverse what he’d done. Instead, it became even worse. When he came to his sense again, his astral form was anew—only it wasn’t. He was inside Julie’s spirit, possessing her essence.
“What the hell is this?!” he screamed again. This time, out loud.
Kent looked down at himself, but all he saw was Julie’s astral body. Her real one took that very moment to slump sideways, falling on the lawn chair with all the grace of a corpse.
A beautiful, half-naked, very vulnerable corpse.
Kent—Julie—stood in shock, mind racing through the possibilities. He could leave her like this. She’d never know. But then another thought crashed over him, stronger than the first: If he didn’t get caught, he’d never get the chance again.
He dove for Julie’s body, not feeling the grass beneath his feet or the sun on his bare shoulders, feeling only the thrill of new freedom around him. It was a game, and he was winning. Kent entered her body through her astral form, through the space where she had left herself open to him.
He settled in.
Kent sat up, eyes going wide when he moved Julie’s body with his own will. The bikini top hung loose, her skin tingled from the lemonade, and he felt everything. Was everything. He was inside her, but more than that—he was her.
Kent—Julie—drew a breath and another, chest rising and falling in thrilling confirmation of what he’d done. This was crazy.
He looked down at himself, taking in the naked curve of Julie’s breasts, feeling the rich sensation of being in her skin—the weight of her breast sat on her chest, the sway of her streaky blonde hair tickling her back, the air on her damp stomach. He had never felt so much, so intensely, and it was all his.
He moved his hand, watched her manicured fingers respond, marveled at how it felt to have nails like these. The sensations were overwhelming, a tidal wave of newness crashing through him, and he was at the center of it all.
Kent rose from the lounge chair, feeling Julie’s legs unfurl beneath him. Her legs. His legs. He took a step and stumbled slightly—her body was so different from his own—but he laughed, a melodic sound that he’s only ever heard from an outsider’s perspective. Now, it was all around him.
He—Julie—stretched, arching her back, reveling in the supple bend of her spine. He swayed from side to side, his eyes drawn to her breasts as they moved with him, to the way her stomach stretched and flattened under her skin. He was gleeful, reckless, and ready to explore.
Kent hopped in place, feeling the heaviness of having breasts that large, of having them jiggle and shift with Julie’s every motion. He hugged her arms around herself, squeezing tight, feeling the way her soft skin gave under her own touch.
“My God,” he said under his breath. He reached up and cupped Julie’s breasts, felt the fullness of them in his new hands. This was better than he could have imagined. “The things I could do…”
A wicked grin spread across his face, a thought forming in his mind that he couldn’t let go of even if he tried. The lemonade was drying on his—her—skin, a sticky sweetness that called out to him. He trailed a finger across Julie’s stomach, felt the tacky residue there. He brought the finger to his mouth, tasted it, and shivered at the sensation. Her body was alive with feeling, with want—Kent’s wants.
“What a silly little blonde I am,” he said, mocking Julie with her own voice. “To spill lemonade all over my tits.”
Kent laughed, delighted with how it felt to be Julie, with how it felt to be free. He let her arms fall to her sides, let them hang loose as he enjoyed the sensation of heaviness on her chest, of the tightness in her bikini top still tied around his waist, and then with no warning at all, he tore it off.
He threw the top in an exaggerated motion that reminded him of Julie, letting it flop somewhere on the grass. With a satisfied sigh, he lay back down on the lounge chair, eager to savor it all. The sun was hot, and it warmed her skin, heating up the stickiness that covered him.
“Kent!” he called, dragging out the syllables of his own name. “The attic better be spotless. Ah, ah,” he tutted in Julie’s voice, as if he were really talking to himself. “I don’t need attitude. I need the attic clean, and I need it now!”
He laughed again, louder this time, and watched the way Julie’s breasts shook with it. He cupped them again, feeling the weight of them, the heat of them under his hands. He kneaded them, felt her nipples harden under his palms. “Yes please.”
The way she responded was electric, was addictive. He circled her nipples with her fingers, feeling the give and pull of her flesh under his touch. He pinched them, tugged at them, and gasped as the sensation rippled through her entire body.
Kent—Julie—arched off the lounge chair, relishing in the newfound closeness of her own skin against itself. Her body, his body now, was a treasure trove of feeling. Guilt was one of them, but Kent discarded it the moment he felt the heat of Julie’s skin.
His new skin.
Kent let his fingers wander, hesitating nowhere, exploring each inch of Julie’s body with an urgency that was all his own. His hands moved from her breasts to her stomach, reveling in the tautness of it, the smoothness. This was incredible. Nothing like his own body, nothing like the weak and overworked thing he’d left behind to gather dust.
The lemonade was a slick trail that led him further down, but Kent wanted to savour every part of Julie’s body.
He grabbed the abandoned cup and found two melting ice cubes in it. Without thinking, he placed one against the pulse point of her neck and felt the cold travel through him, felt it race along her veins in a shiver that made him gasp. He ran it down to her breasts, tracing the hard ice along the soft skin, watching as it left a shiny trail in its wake.
He groaned with pleasure as heat met chill, as her body—his body—reacted to every small sensation.
Kent teased the ice around Julie’s nipples, feeling it melt fast against her warmth, feeling the slickness of water and lemonade mix on her skin. This was too good. Too intense. He pressed harder, drawing circles until nothing but a wet pool remained. Then he took the second ice cube and slid it down her stomach, felt it slip over Julie’s navel, felt it dip lower. He shivered with raw want, with a hunger that was all his own.
Her body was so needy.
Kent couldn’t get enough of her breasts, wanted to hold them, squeeze them, lose himself in the swell and the softness. He ran his hands over her glistening skin, slick and sweet. He rolled Julie’s nipples between her fingers again, felt a tight heat coil at her center, felt the pleasure spread. He was giddy, greedy, and relentless.
Another pinch, another nipple. Kent felt harden beneath his touch—her touch—their touch. He groaned at the intensity of it, the foreignness of it. His fingers were relentless, trailing over Julie’s breasts, thumbs teasing every part of her perky pink nipples. They were like something he'd never felt, like she'd never let him feel. Moans pulled from somewhere within, or perhaps somewhere very far beyond him, mingled with the summer air.
His arousal grew, a heaviness that pulled in his stomach, one that wasn’t accompanied by the swelling of a cock—no. This was all heat and wetness. He could feel the warmth of it spreading, the want of it filling him, and he was unstoppable now, a force with no fear.
He couldn’t resist. Kent settled back against the lounge chair, really made himself comfortable, and let Julie’s fingers trail along her sides. His fingers hooked Julie’s bikini bottom strings, tugging it up higher, so high the fabric pulled tight through her legs, through pussy lips. Her wetness was slick against the bikini bottom, and he moaned, feeling the pressure, the friction of it.
“Holy shit,” he murmured, looking down at how the fabric tucked snug against Julie’s body, feeling the way her pussy responded to the tightness. It had him biting Julie’s lips, moaning softly.
Kent let the strings snap back, rolled his hips against the chair, felt every bit of Julie’s body respond with a raw hunger that was all his own. Then, he loosened one side, then the other, freeing the bikini bottom from her hips and sliding it slowly down. He watched it peel off with a slow stickiness, felt every inch of the cool air as it hit her bare skin, hit her exposed pussy. It left her bare and open to the world. Open to him.
Kent loved every second of it—he wanted more.
He let his hands roam, feeling the soft curve of Julie’s thighs, feeling their warmth, their strength, the way they flexed and tensed as he touched her.
The lemonade was everywhere now, a sweet slickness that begged for more attention. He slid his hands between her legs, feeling them part beneath his touch, feeling the wetness there—a different kind of wetness, one that made him ache, one that made his gasp.
Julie’s pussy.
It was soft, wet. So much wetter than any part of him used to be.
His fingers traced over the smooth skin of Julie’s waxed mound, and Kent knew he was lost to it. He spread her lips with Julie’s fingers, found wetness there, and the heat. It was incredible.
His fingers were sure of themselves, even if the feelings they caused were not. He couldn’t handle it as curiosity fuelled every actions—Kent traced the outer vaginal folds of Julie’s pussy, toying with the heat that roared inside him, that wanted him to dip his fingers in, to move faster, to make Julie come. He rubbed her clit in circles he could feel all the way through himself, all the way up to his nipples, all the way back down. He was breathing hard now, fast and shallow as a dog in heat.
His mind couldn’t handle it, but her body could. His body could. Kent’s fingers massaged her clit in slow, maddening circles, building the intensity of it, building the pressure. He could feel her start to float away from herself, from everything, and Kent whimpered as he felt it too.
He pushed two fingers inside her, felt the wetness close around them. It was tight and hot and nothing like what he’d imagined, but better, better than he’d imagined. He moved his fingers in and out, feeling the slickness grow, feeling her body respond to it. His thumb circled her clit, his other hand squeezing her breast—the sounds, they were music to his ears.
Kent pushed her fingers deep again, fucking into her with growing urgency. He was past the point of caring, past the point of restraint. He pumped her pussy, felt her tighten around the fingers, felt her breath catch in her throat as she started to let go, to really let go.
It was intoxicating, with each squelch, each stroke, a musk scent filled the air—a scent that Julie’s and his. He was so wet, so turned on, Kent was losing his mind. He gathered slickness on his fingertips, savoring it as he brought fingers to his mouth. Her lips parted; her tongue tasted it—tasted herself—and Kent shivered at the sensation, at how different it was from anything he'd known.
Kent moaned, Julie’s voice responded, and it was heaven. His fingers moved faster, more desperate. He was so close, so close to everything.
“Fuuuck,” Kent said, felt the pleasure build and coil. His other hand kneaded her breasts while he licked and sucked at his fingers, alternating between the two until both were coated in sweat and juice and the taste of summer freedom.
It was almost more than he could handle.
He pressed fingers against himself again, dipping deeper this time. Dipping farther into her—inside himself—felt the slick heat of her pussy wrap around him, pull him in. His breath came faster now. His hands moved with a mind of their own, slick against her skin, wet against his thighs.
Julie’s breathing was erratic, and Kent stretched out, arm falling behind his head, mouth parting on every moan, every whine. He turned his head, nose brushing against Julie’s armpit; she’d never let anyone near there before—not even herself.
He groaned again.
Kent-as-Julie buried her face in the hollow crook where arm met shoulder; her shoulder; their shoulder; felt another wave of dizziness at how hot and alive she smelled; tasted another drop of sweat as it ran down his cheek; hers; theirs.
He took a deep inhale, sniffing himself—herself—into a frenzy. She smelled of expensive perfume and a raw muskiness that came form sitting under the summer sun—she smelled of sex. It was new, and it was familiar, and it made him bite down on the skin there as his fingers moved faster, as he felt the pressure build and build.
Kent wanted to consume her.
His tongue darted out as his fingers kept moving, faster still, guided by instinct or greed or maybe just teenage hormones run amok. Julie’s skin tasted salty-sweet; her sweat tasted like freedom.
The world narrowed to the space between Julie’s legs, and Kent gave up entirely on restraint. He moved faster now, thrusting with an urgency that left him panting for breath.
Every touch sent shockwaves through him. It was a new kind of heat—a heat so intense it bordered on pain then circled back again. The sun bore down on him, too, like a spotlight as he squirmed and writhed beneath its attention.
It was happening.
He was going to come.
Kent rocked against the chair, against her fingers, against himself. He was so close.
His back arched off the chair as waves crashed over him: tidal waves, rogue waves; hard enough to knock sense loose from his head; hard enough that it didn’t matter when Julie's voice bubbled up inside, “Oh God oh God oh Godddddd…!”
He panted, fingers wet with her juice, body slick with her sweat, his mind blown. Kent lay still when it subsided—limp with satisfaction yet buzzing with energy.
A lazy smile spread across his face—her face as he let the warmth settle in. He was sated but hungry for so much more; dizzy from exertion yet clear-headed for once about what kind of summer awaited him now: One where Marcus didn’t owe him shit anymore.
One where Marcus didn’t owe him shit anymore.
Note: This is a commissioned work that has not been personally written by me. I have been granted permission to distribute and share the story by the original author.
The push mower's dull rattle droned in Kent’s ears, blades whirring through the grass. His body strained beneath the midday sun, and through damp lashes, he caught the blur of a cherry-red convertible roaring down the road—top down, laughter trailing like exhaust.
“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, wiping away another hand of sweat.
The mower sputtered as he yanked it over a thick patch near Julie’s hydrangeas. He imagined Marcus at the wheel, music cranked, their friends crowded in the back seat, already sunburned and salty from the ocean. They wouldn’t miss him today; they probably hadn’t even noticed he wasn’t around these days.
The sun seared, hammering against his back, arms, the nape of his neck where his hair stuck and tangled. Kent tried not to groan, but it was getting harder not to resent the injustice of it all. He trudged along, kicking dust into the air, each pass of the mower a reminder of how thoroughly he'd been screwed.
Two weeks ago, he’d been carefree, tossing a ball back and forth with Marcus in his front yard. It had all gone wrong so fast: Marcus’ wild throw, laughing at Kent’s half-hearted protest, goading him to catch it. Kent squinted against the sky; his hand fumbled the air. The dull clang was the sound of his afternoon crashing against Julie’s car, leaving a perfect circle of incrimination in the glossy finish.
They'd both stared—Marcus with lips curled around the brink of a "whoops," and Kent with his gut unraveling through his shirt.
Marcus caught his eye and smiled like he’d planned the whole thing. "No one saw. Chill, man!" Kent opened his mouth, closed it, hoped it wasn’t as big a deal as he feared.
It was.
The door slammed with the sharp report of impending disaster, and there was Julie in full fury, an avenging angel with a tan. "Which one of you incompetent brats—" She halted, eyes narrowing at the guilty-looking crease on her convertible’s door. Her voice fell, low and venomous. "—thinks this is funny?"
Kent swallowed. He hated the dryness in his mouth, the stickiness on his palms. He hated the dent in the car, hated Marcus's grin, and hated even more how it slid away into something else. Something innocent, friendly. "Hey, Ms. Bentley. We were just leaving a note."
She crossed the lawn with the gait of someone used to having her way, every step as dangerous as an exclamation mark. "Try again, boys."
"We were—"
"He threw it," Kent interrupted. "It got away from him. We’ll get it fixed."
"Kent..." Marcus raised his eyebrows, a betrayed chorus of one.
"You’re damn right you’ll get it fixed." Julie’s attention speared Kent and held. He could feel Marcus shifting, inching toward the door. "And you’ll work off every cent. Both of you."
The pause stretched longer than the afternoon sun. "I guess I can help," Marcus finally said, with the agonized reluctance of a guy donating a kidney. "If I don’t work weekends, and if Mom doesn’t ground me again—"
"Save it," Kent muttered, already caught, already sentenced. He’d seen this play out before. "I’ll take care of it."
Marcus’s hand clamped on his shoulder with all the sincerity of a condolence card bought half-price. "Thanks, bro. I’ll owe you."
"I know you will," Kent had replied, staring past Julie's gloating smile to where Marcus, framed by sunlight and betrayal, had slouched away.
Back in the present, the sun hadn’t moved. Kent kicked the mower into a new row, ignoring how his arms shook from the effort, ignoring how his thoughts spun through pointless what-ifs. He ducked his head, let the work and heat crush him down until he was too small to bother with.
The next pass went easier. Resignation did that—took the sting out of unfairness like Novocain. Kent mowed numbly, lines and rows blurring into one another until the grass lay behind him.
Two more weeks of this? A lifetime? Might as well. Julie was a woman who knew how to wield silence as well as threats. Not for the first time, Kent wondered why Marcus ever threw the damn ball.
He finished, choked the mower dead, wiped sweat from his eyes. His skin felt crispy and tight. All he needed was a dive, no a dip—of his toe into the pool. That would fix it all.
"Is this a joke to you?" Julie's voice, another thing that refused to wilt in the heat.
Kent was shaken back to the present, and caught in the scent of chlorine and coconut oil threading through the afternoon air. He was standing on the edge of the water as Julie stretched relaxingly, every move as intentional as the flick of her gaze.
Her bikini clung like sweat, and Kent's eyes traced its path against his will.
"This isn't acceptable," she said. "Again."
He wanted to disappear into the chlorinated depths, but she was already lounging back, already dismissing him from her thoughts as she dangled new chores between them like a cat with an injured mouse.
"A kid your age shouldn’t have such a hard time keeping up." Julie's eyes glinted like a promise he wasn't going to get. Kent swallowed a retort, tasted salt on his upper lip instead. She knew the effect she had, both in giving orders and ignoring them. "My daughter could do better."
"I doubt that." The words slipped out with a touch more venom than he'd meant.
Kent turned away, wanting to muffle the clink of ice against her glass with his own hands around her throat. Or maybe his own hands around his own throat. He couldn’t decide.
"I don't need attitude. I need that lawn mowed right."
It was a subtle dance of dominance. One she performed like a pro, even reclining. Julie's skin shone like polished bronze under the sun. The same sun had Kent looking like a washed-up sweat rag by comparison. A rag that hadn't worked off his debt, yet.
Julie glanced back at the pool, effectively tossing him from her thoughts, while he stood dumbly in the tangle of lust, obligation, and a boy’s last ounce of pride.
"You want me to go over it again?" His voice cracked—broke around the words.
Her chin tilted up, uninterested. "If it’s not perfect, you’ll keep doing it until it is. Start with the hedges. I expect more from you."
Kent shuffled away, back toward the toolshed.
Home. Kent made his way home that night, in a huff. The familiar house sat quiet and useless, just like his last three paychecks.
Mom greeted him as he trudged through the kitchen door, hand resting on his shoulder—too gentle to be real sympathy. Dad folded a corner of the paper down, equally gentle. "Get it all finished up?"
Kent slumped into the chair across from them, felt himself sink. "Not quite. She keeps adding stuff—"
Mom shook her head. "She wouldn’t do that if you did it right the first time, honey."
"I did do it right! She’s just—" Beautiful, unreasonable, half-naked, impossible. The words tangled up in each other, fell into a frustrated heap at his feet. "—Julie. I’ll never get it done."
Dad was halfway through a reply when Kent cut in. "Can you at least admit this is bullshit?"
"Language, Kent." Mom’s voice held the same note Julie’s did. "You know why you have to finish. We’ve been over this. A hundred times."
"A thousand," Kent grumbled, feeling very young and very old at once.
"A hundred," Dad agreed, unfolding another section of newspaper.
It wasn’t what Kent wanted, but it was more than he'd get from Julie. "She says it’ll take weeks."
"Not if you stick with it," Mom said.
That sounded suspiciously like something he told himself when he woke up to do it all over again.
"I’m not being unreasonable. Marcus should—"
Dad’s look cut him off. "Marcus should listen to his mother and be more like you. Get your things done instead of complaining. It’ll build character, son."
Kent braced against the edges of their insistence, the too-smooth conviction he felt slipping past him like oil on water. He needed it rougher, sharper, like sandpaper. Instead, they filed him down to nothing, left him to carry the pieces.
"Yeah," he mumbled. "Character."
Kent walked through the inferno to Julie’s again the next morning. The sprinklers had done more to cool the yard than he ever would.
She let him in, and Kent found himself in the toolshed again. He was being dramatic, he knew it, but he saw himself doomed to middle age before he left this hellscape.
That’s why you did it, Marcus. To build character. That’s what Kent wanted to believe.
He hoisted a gas can, hated the way it felt so familiar. "Get it all finished up?" he muttered, mocking more than himself.
At the edge of the yard, Marcus’s words snagged his thoughts. "Thanks, bro. I’ll owe you."
Kent cringed inwardly, the flashback was as unwelcome as Marcus’s easy grin. He wasn’t getting anything out of this. The mower whirred to life again, drowning out the last bit of sanity Kent had.
Task 2: Move an ungodly amount of boxes.
Julie watched from the side of the pool again, an ice cube balanced between her lips, as Kent hauled a heavy box across the patio. His steps were an awkward choreography of anger and heat exhaustion. She stretched a leg, attention already back on her phone. "I’m not running a charity, Kent. I expect all of those moved by the end of the day."
His body screamed for rest, but he plowed forward. If she wanted to break him, it would take more than a few shopping sprees and heat waves to do it.
"Commitment, Kent. I need to see you’re committed to paying what you owe," Julie said. She reached lazily for a magazine. Kent nearly buckled under the weight. The sprinklers sputtered on, mocking him. His arms throbbed, and the boxes felt heavier with every step.
Kent glared back at the pool. "Is this all of them?"
Julie sipped her drink, feigning deep consideration. "We'll see, won’t we?"
The heat was a solid thing. He dragged himself back for the next load, ignored the stubborn itch of humiliation as he passed her sun chair. Julie's skin was already bronzed, glowing against the red of her bikini like Christmas in July. She wasn't even watching. Her complete lack of attention chafed worse than his sticky shirt. Maybe this wasn’t better than the lawn.
Kent shook his head and moved another box.
Julie seemed perfectly at ease, flipping the pages without even glancing at him. In turn, each glance he stole fueled the resentment he was supposed to be working off. No, it grew. Larger than him, larger than life.
Kent sighed. Three trips later and Kent's shoulders felt like they were shredding. Julie's calm was like ice in his throat, grating.
She made a bored gesture in his direction.
"I’m going, I’m going," he muttered, head lowered. Prisoner.
"I almost believe you, dear."
Kent rubbed his shoulder, wished he could ignore it as easily as she ignored him. He wanted to break something, maybe her resolve. Maybe his own.
Halfway through the stack, the boxes became heavier. How? Kent’s eyes bulged as her struggled to keep a box in his arms, needing to use his legs to stabilise it.
"Careful," she called without looking up, her foot dangling in the pool. The water, like the entire house, was a universe away. His jaw tightened like the strings of a cheap violin. His actions were almost noble if nobility felt like dirt, grit, and sarcasm. Maybe he wouldn’t get what he wanted—freedom, the beach, even Julie’s attention—but he could work until nothing mattered.
Task 3: Clean the attic.
Kent sneezed.
The attic smelled like dead things, old things, dust and age and memories. Light filtered through a single window, and dust motes mocked him as they danced around. He waved a hand in front of his face, spitting out dirt and frustration in equal measure.
Julie’s voice floated up the stairs, a siren call to hell. "Get it all done, Kent."
He choked on a reply and another sneeze. This was the worst. His arms screamed for relief, but he grabbed a broom instead. Webs clung to every part of the room, and Kent wondered if a spider bit him what kind of superpowers he’d get. Maybe he’d turn into a kid who had some actual free time.
Kent swept the floor with the same dedication that had gotten him here in the first place. He imagined Marcus at the beach, surrounded by friends and bikinis that weren’t his boss’s. The broom handle dug into his blistered palms, and he pushed harder, until the pile of dust and dirt became a small mountain of failure.
He coughed, doubled over. This was pointless. He rubbed his face with a dirty shirt sleeve, smeared the mess across his cheek. A week ago he might have cared.
The broom thudded against the wall. He leaned against it, feeling the sting of dust and sweat in his eyes. It was a lost cause. The whole thing.
Something caught his eye. A figure, cloaked under a dusty wool blanket. He reached for it, more curious than he should have been, and pulled the fabric away.
A doll? An idol?
Kent almost laughed at the absurdity. An old-fashioned thing, with yellowing lace and painted eyes that stared past him like Julie did. He wiped his hands on his shirt, reached for it, fingers closing around the figure. Maybe it—
One touch, and it was the last contact he had, the last time he felt a thing.
One step, and he felt himself shift and separate, pulling apart like a zipper splitting seams that held his mind and body tight. There was a ripping sensation, a fraying sensation, and then a lightness so complete Kent thought he might disappear entirely.
“What the hell is this?!” he screamed in his mind.
Kent looked down at his hands, saw them glowing a pale blue that didn’t hide what was behind them. See-through? Transparent? He was floating-feather light, above the attic floor. Above the mess he’d made of it, above his own body, which was slumped where he’d left it.
His first thought was to panic. His second thought was that he already had. He drifted forward, then back. What just happened?
Was he dead?
No, that wasn’t right. Dead people didn’t get mad, and Kent was mad as hell. He was anything but dead.
He was alive, more alive than he ever felt. Alive, free of the heat and the drudgery and the persistent ache of muscle and bone. Alive, free, and…shimmering?
Kent felt the spark of something he hadn’t felt in weeks. Possibility.
His spirit stretched into the attic's corners, testing his new reach, dancing through the crowded loft. He shot past his old body, tempted to wave. He'd give it up again without a second thought. Let Julie wonder what magic swapped out her slave, wonder what left her so completely she couldn’t yell at it.
Kent skipped through the abandoned boxes, gliding over ancient bags, years of forgotten excess. One flick of his ghostly finger set the attic in motion, objects swaying like they finally believed in ghosts.
They had to believe. Kent wasn't even trying, not yet. He might have spent the entire day haunting her past, finding new things to set loose.
He stuck his head through the attic wall, through the attic floor, and stared at the room below. It was upside down, or maybe he was? Not that it mattered when he could fly—when he could phase. He could phase through walls. Kent laughed at the brilliance of it, the sheer giddiness of going where no one wanted him. He stretched his spirit like a growing boy, like a growing thought, and shot down into Julie’s world.
He peeked out through the window, head first of course. Then his shoulders followed, then his legs. Next thing, Kent was soaring over the manicured lawn that he manicured. He stopped short of her lawn chair, hovering in the blistering summer heat. He felt none of it. Nice!
The chair, the yard, the entire universe looked different when it wasn't pushing him around. A magazine perched on the small table next to her. She relaxed, as fully and completely as if he'd never existed.
Kent watched, waiting to see if she'd notice the power shift. Notice him. It was all he could do not to burst with thrill of possibilities.
But nothing happened. No matter how long he stared at her, she barely felt his eyes on her.
Then he nudged it, pushing at the magazine with a single finger. It slipped from the table, fluttering down onto the grass.
She glanced at it, not even removing her sunglasses. "Wind’s picking up," she mumbled, and leaned back into her own self-absorption.
"Okay," he thought to himself. "If you want to play, let’s play."
Kent pulled at the towel that draped her sun chair. It slipped to the ground with a thud. This time, Julie's eyes popped open. She stared around the yard like she'd just seen him flung from the roof, like her furniture flung itself from the roof.
Her eyes were slits, suspicious, curious, but not afraid. "Ha ha," Kent heard her say. Fine.
He tugged next at the sunscreen, nudging it off her lap, and watching it roll into the water. Julie sat up. Her brow furrowed, and after a long second she slowly slid the sunglasses down her nose. Kent almost laughed. She was so used to getting her way, she couldn't comprehend the universe acting out.
“It’s not funny,” she shouted at cosmic injustice, and at Kent. “Who’s there?”
Kent hovered above her, a cheeky grin spread across his face. The rules had changed—she was playing the game now, and he was the game master. Kent shoved at the drink in her hand, watched as it splashed cold ice, and lemonade on her sun-warmed skin. Julie yelped, surprised. An ice cube melted between her fingers, over her navel, all along the exact same path Kent’s thoughts wanted to travel.
This time, she stood.
However, it was the wrong move.
Kent yanked at the string on her bikini, wild and reckless. The top slipped loose, and before he could whoop with victory, the world stopped.
It happened again.
The same shifting, the same separation. Julie’s spirit rose out of her body like steam from a kettle. She stared down at herself, and then right through him. Kent froze. Her spirit paused, hovered.
Then Kent did what he did best.
He panicked.
How to fix this? How to fix this? How to not get caught?
Kent grabbed at Julie’s astral form, desperate to reverse what he’d done. Instead, it became even worse. When he came to his sense again, his astral form was anew—only it wasn’t. He was inside Julie’s spirit, possessing her essence.
“What the hell is this?!” he screamed again. This time, out loud.
Kent looked down at himself, but all he saw was Julie’s astral body. Her real one took that very moment to slump sideways, falling on the lawn chair with all the grace of a corpse.
A beautiful, half-naked, very vulnerable corpse.
Kent—Julie—stood in shock, mind racing through the possibilities. He could leave her like this. She’d never know. But then another thought crashed over him, stronger than the first: If he didn’t get caught, he’d never get the chance again.
He dove for Julie’s body, not feeling the grass beneath his feet or the sun on his bare shoulders, feeling only the thrill of new freedom around him. It was a game, and he was winning. Kent entered her body through her astral form, through the space where she had left herself open to him.
He settled in.
Kent sat up, eyes going wide when he moved Julie’s body with his own will. The bikini top hung loose, her skin tingled from the lemonade, and he felt everything. Was everything. He was inside her, but more than that—he was her.
Kent—Julie—drew a breath and another, chest rising and falling in thrilling confirmation of what he’d done. This was crazy.
He looked down at himself, taking in the naked curve of Julie’s breasts, feeling the rich sensation of being in her skin—the weight of her breast sat on her chest, the sway of her streaky blonde hair tickling her back, the air on her damp stomach. He had never felt so much, so intensely, and it was all his.
He moved his hand, watched her manicured fingers respond, marveled at how it felt to have nails like these. The sensations were overwhelming, a tidal wave of newness crashing through him, and he was at the center of it all.
Kent rose from the lounge chair, feeling Julie’s legs unfurl beneath him. Her legs. His legs. He took a step and stumbled slightly—her body was so different from his own—but he laughed, a melodic sound that he’s only ever heard from an outsider’s perspective. Now, it was all around him.
He—Julie—stretched, arching her back, reveling in the supple bend of her spine. He swayed from side to side, his eyes drawn to her breasts as they moved with him, to the way her stomach stretched and flattened under her skin. He was gleeful, reckless, and ready to explore.
Kent hopped in place, feeling the heaviness of having breasts that large, of having them jiggle and shift with Julie’s every motion. He hugged her arms around herself, squeezing tight, feeling the way her soft skin gave under her own touch.
“My God,” he said under his breath. He reached up and cupped Julie’s breasts, felt the fullness of them in his new hands. This was better than he could have imagined. “The things I could do…”
A wicked grin spread across his face, a thought forming in his mind that he couldn’t let go of even if he tried. The lemonade was drying on his—her—skin, a sticky sweetness that called out to him. He trailed a finger across Julie’s stomach, felt the tacky residue there. He brought the finger to his mouth, tasted it, and shivered at the sensation. Her body was alive with feeling, with want—Kent’s wants.
“What a silly little blonde I am,” he said, mocking Julie with her own voice. “To spill lemonade all over my tits.”
Kent laughed, delighted with how it felt to be Julie, with how it felt to be free. He let her arms fall to her sides, let them hang loose as he enjoyed the sensation of heaviness on her chest, of the tightness in her bikini top still tied around his waist, and then with no warning at all, he tore it off.
He threw the top in an exaggerated motion that reminded him of Julie, letting it flop somewhere on the grass. With a satisfied sigh, he lay back down on the lounge chair, eager to savor it all. The sun was hot, and it warmed her skin, heating up the stickiness that covered him.
“Kent!” he called, dragging out the syllables of his own name. “The attic better be spotless. Ah, ah,” he tutted in Julie’s voice, as if he were really talking to himself. “I don’t need attitude. I need the attic clean, and I need it now!”
He laughed again, louder this time, and watched the way Julie’s breasts shook with it. He cupped them again, feeling the weight of them, the heat of them under his hands. He kneaded them, felt her nipples harden under his palms. “Yes please.”
The way she responded was electric, was addictive. He circled her nipples with her fingers, feeling the give and pull of her flesh under his touch. He pinched them, tugged at them, and gasped as the sensation rippled through her entire body.
Kent—Julie—arched off the lounge chair, relishing in the newfound closeness of her own skin against itself. Her body, his body now, was a treasure trove of feeling. Guilt was one of them, but Kent discarded it the moment he felt the heat of Julie’s skin.
His new skin.
Kent let his fingers wander, hesitating nowhere, exploring each inch of Julie’s body with an urgency that was all his own. His hands moved from her breasts to her stomach, reveling in the tautness of it, the smoothness. This was incredible. Nothing like his own body, nothing like the weak and overworked thing he’d left behind to gather dust.
The lemonade was a slick trail that led him further down, but Kent wanted to savour every part of Julie’s body.
He grabbed the abandoned cup and found two melting ice cubes in it. Without thinking, he placed one against the pulse point of her neck and felt the cold travel through him, felt it race along her veins in a shiver that made him gasp. He ran it down to her breasts, tracing the hard ice along the soft skin, watching as it left a shiny trail in its wake.
He groaned with pleasure as heat met chill, as her body—his body—reacted to every small sensation.
Kent teased the ice around Julie’s nipples, feeling it melt fast against her warmth, feeling the slickness of water and lemonade mix on her skin. This was too good. Too intense. He pressed harder, drawing circles until nothing but a wet pool remained. Then he took the second ice cube and slid it down her stomach, felt it slip over Julie’s navel, felt it dip lower. He shivered with raw want, with a hunger that was all his own.
Her body was so needy.
Kent couldn’t get enough of her breasts, wanted to hold them, squeeze them, lose himself in the swell and the softness. He ran his hands over her glistening skin, slick and sweet. He rolled Julie’s nipples between her fingers again, felt a tight heat coil at her center, felt the pleasure spread. He was giddy, greedy, and relentless.
Another pinch, another nipple. Kent felt harden beneath his touch—her touch—their touch. He groaned at the intensity of it, the foreignness of it. His fingers were relentless, trailing over Julie’s breasts, thumbs teasing every part of her perky pink nipples. They were like something he'd never felt, like she'd never let him feel. Moans pulled from somewhere within, or perhaps somewhere very far beyond him, mingled with the summer air.
His arousal grew, a heaviness that pulled in his stomach, one that wasn’t accompanied by the swelling of a cock—no. This was all heat and wetness. He could feel the warmth of it spreading, the want of it filling him, and he was unstoppable now, a force with no fear.
He couldn’t resist. Kent settled back against the lounge chair, really made himself comfortable, and let Julie’s fingers trail along her sides. His fingers hooked Julie’s bikini bottom strings, tugging it up higher, so high the fabric pulled tight through her legs, through pussy lips. Her wetness was slick against the bikini bottom, and he moaned, feeling the pressure, the friction of it.
“Holy shit,” he murmured, looking down at how the fabric tucked snug against Julie’s body, feeling the way her pussy responded to the tightness. It had him biting Julie’s lips, moaning softly.
Kent let the strings snap back, rolled his hips against the chair, felt every bit of Julie’s body respond with a raw hunger that was all his own. Then, he loosened one side, then the other, freeing the bikini bottom from her hips and sliding it slowly down. He watched it peel off with a slow stickiness, felt every inch of the cool air as it hit her bare skin, hit her exposed pussy. It left her bare and open to the world. Open to him.
Kent loved every second of it—he wanted more.
He let his hands roam, feeling the soft curve of Julie’s thighs, feeling their warmth, their strength, the way they flexed and tensed as he touched her.
The lemonade was everywhere now, a sweet slickness that begged for more attention. He slid his hands between her legs, feeling them part beneath his touch, feeling the wetness there—a different kind of wetness, one that made him ache, one that made his gasp.
Julie’s pussy.
It was soft, wet. So much wetter than any part of him used to be.
His fingers traced over the smooth skin of Julie’s waxed mound, and Kent knew he was lost to it. He spread her lips with Julie’s fingers, found wetness there, and the heat. It was incredible.
His fingers were sure of themselves, even if the feelings they caused were not. He couldn’t handle it as curiosity fuelled every actions—Kent traced the outer vaginal folds of Julie’s pussy, toying with the heat that roared inside him, that wanted him to dip his fingers in, to move faster, to make Julie come. He rubbed her clit in circles he could feel all the way through himself, all the way up to his nipples, all the way back down. He was breathing hard now, fast and shallow as a dog in heat.
His mind couldn’t handle it, but her body could. His body could. Kent’s fingers massaged her clit in slow, maddening circles, building the intensity of it, building the pressure. He could feel her start to float away from herself, from everything, and Kent whimpered as he felt it too.
He pushed two fingers inside her, felt the wetness close around them. It was tight and hot and nothing like what he’d imagined, but better, better than he’d imagined. He moved his fingers in and out, feeling the slickness grow, feeling her body respond to it. His thumb circled her clit, his other hand squeezing her breast—the sounds, they were music to his ears.
Kent pushed her fingers deep again, fucking into her with growing urgency. He was past the point of caring, past the point of restraint. He pumped her pussy, felt her tighten around the fingers, felt her breath catch in her throat as she started to let go, to really let go.
It was intoxicating, with each squelch, each stroke, a musk scent filled the air—a scent that Julie’s and his. He was so wet, so turned on, Kent was losing his mind. He gathered slickness on his fingertips, savoring it as he brought fingers to his mouth. Her lips parted; her tongue tasted it—tasted herself—and Kent shivered at the sensation, at how different it was from anything he'd known.
Kent moaned, Julie’s voice responded, and it was heaven. His fingers moved faster, more desperate. He was so close, so close to everything.
“Fuuuck,” Kent said, felt the pleasure build and coil. His other hand kneaded her breasts while he licked and sucked at his fingers, alternating between the two until both were coated in sweat and juice and the taste of summer freedom.
It was almost more than he could handle.
He pressed fingers against himself again, dipping deeper this time. Dipping farther into her—inside himself—felt the slick heat of her pussy wrap around him, pull him in. His breath came faster now. His hands moved with a mind of their own, slick against her skin, wet against his thighs.
Julie’s breathing was erratic, and Kent stretched out, arm falling behind his head, mouth parting on every moan, every whine. He turned his head, nose brushing against Julie’s armpit; she’d never let anyone near there before—not even herself.
He groaned again.
Kent-as-Julie buried her face in the hollow crook where arm met shoulder; her shoulder; their shoulder; felt another wave of dizziness at how hot and alive she smelled; tasted another drop of sweat as it ran down his cheek; hers; theirs.
He took a deep inhale, sniffing himself—herself—into a frenzy. She smelled of expensive perfume and a raw muskiness that came form sitting under the summer sun—she smelled of sex. It was new, and it was familiar, and it made him bite down on the skin there as his fingers moved faster, as he felt the pressure build and build.
Kent wanted to consume her.
His tongue darted out as his fingers kept moving, faster still, guided by instinct or greed or maybe just teenage hormones run amok. Julie’s skin tasted salty-sweet; her sweat tasted like freedom.
The world narrowed to the space between Julie’s legs, and Kent gave up entirely on restraint. He moved faster now, thrusting with an urgency that left him panting for breath.
Every touch sent shockwaves through him. It was a new kind of heat—a heat so intense it bordered on pain then circled back again. The sun bore down on him, too, like a spotlight as he squirmed and writhed beneath its attention.
It was happening.
He was going to come.
Kent rocked against the chair, against her fingers, against himself. He was so close.
His back arched off the chair as waves crashed over him: tidal waves, rogue waves; hard enough to knock sense loose from his head; hard enough that it didn’t matter when Julie's voice bubbled up inside, “Oh God oh God oh Godddddd…!”
He panted, fingers wet with her juice, body slick with her sweat, his mind blown. Kent lay still when it subsided—limp with satisfaction yet buzzing with energy.
A lazy smile spread across his face—her face as he let the warmth settle in. He was sated but hungry for so much more; dizzy from exertion yet clear-headed for once about what kind of summer awaited him now: One where Marcus didn’t owe him shit anymore.
One where Marcus didn’t owe him shit anymore.
mtf
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I try not to think of myself as the bad guy. Yes, I found myself involved in the development of mind-control technology, but I did my best to protect the world from the worst of it. After that, things just kind of happened on their own.
At least, that's what I try to tell myself.
In hindsight, I don’t see how things could have turned out any other way. I’m not saying that as an excuse for any of the things I did or as if it makes them any less bad, but having taken the first step, things just kind of kept happening.
It started at work. I won’t say where.
We were testing methods of remote information transmission that didn’t rely on explicit outputs or inputs. Basically communication that bypassed the barriers outlined in models like Berlo’s SMCR: Instead of relying on language to convey meaning, our aim was to find a way to convey meaning itself directly from one mind to at least one other.
Again, with the benefit of hindsight, the implications were obvious, but we weren’t concerned with whether we should, we just wanted to see if we could. Classic hubris of the scientifically minded.
And it turns out we can. Or more specifically, I can. I’ve made sure all traces of the research material has been scrubbed from any database; every hard drive degaussed, every memory stick smashed into tiny pieces, every document shredded and the whole lot set on fire just to be safe. The technology is too dangerous to risk falling into the wrong hands.
Yes, like mine. It turns out my hands are also the wrong hands, but I didn’t know it at the time. I thought if I just kept the research to myself and studied it in secret, I could find a way to use it to make the world a better place. I guess I can still do that. Maybe it will make up for the bad that I’ve done, which on reflection isn’t even that bad.
Sure, I accidentally corrupted the free will of a fellow human being and inadvertently turned them into my loyal assistant and sex slave, but they’re happy. I know they’re happy, because in a lot of ways, they’re also me.
That helps, right?
*
Everyone was very excited. It was something worth being excited about. Transmission was old tech and measuring changes in brain waves was old tech, but reliably translating knowledge as it was being recalled into data, then being able to implant that data into another mind was a big fucking deal.
Other departments in other labs were specialising in mechanical transmission - robotics and cybernetics, for replacement or auxiliary limbs or remote work in hazardous environments. Useful stuff, but not nearly as delicate as what we were trying to achieve. They were trying to transmit a signal to a robot hand to gently hold an egg: We were trying to pull a single thought out of one mind and stitch it seamlessly into another.
Our first major breakthrough was impression: Not the conveyance of explicit knowledge or of a specific message, just a vague sense experienced by the broadcaster transmitted to the receiver. It had to be a strong sense, which meant staff with intense phobias being the broadcaster knowing what objects were beneath a series of cups, and the receiver choosing a cup at random based on the impression being transmitted to them.
It wasn’t a hundred percent accurate, but the results fell well outside of what would have been possible on pure guesswork and we were pumped to fine tune the technology to see what it could do.
I say “random,” because even though it wasn’t, even though we knew it wasn’t and even though the receiver knew that a successful test would be proof that it wasn’t, they still felt as though they were choosing randomly. At no point did they feel like they were under someone else’s influence or receiving information externally; in every single instance, they were convinced that the experiment had failed and they were just choosing at random.
That should have been our first warning.
We advanced from cups viewed from two positions to mazes navigated from two positions, and then from mazes to simple guessing games like battleships and go fish. Again, no explicit information, but impressions that still left the receiver under the illusion that they were just lucky guessers.
From simple games we moved on to more advanced guessing games like celebrity heads and poker. This was a significant step forwards, but we were still relying on impressions that could be rationalised by the receiver as guesswork and luck. At no point was anyone being fed information that they couldn’t have conceivably deduced, remembered, calculated or bumbled their way into naturally.
That’s when the second major breakthrough happened. One of our broadcasters, Jackson, had gotten tired transmitting the correct answers to his receiver and had started feeding them deliberately incorrect answers. Nothing obvious - just answers that were close enough that they could make even someone who already knew second guess themselves. His receiver had a post-it note on her forehead with “Tiger Woods” written in permanent marker on it, and she had been given the clue “Golfing champion.”
By now, everyone had gotten used to Jackson’s shenanigans, so we grinned or grimaced as poor Lena rattled through every wrong answer she could be compelled to try.
“Tony the Tiger. Michael Jordan. Walt Disney. Santa Claus. Mickey Mouse. Bullroarer Took. Babe Ruth. Heisenberg. Wait, who the hell is Bullroarer Took?”
She didn’t get an answer, as the lab immediately exploded into questions and exclamations and people generally just freaking out. We’d done it, and somehow completely by accident: An entirely new, explicit piece of information had been seamlessly added to a receiver’s brain and it wasn’t until a few seconds after they’d actually said it that they even realised it wasn’t information from their own brain.
That was our second warning.
The third warning came quite a bit later, but by pure chance, I was the only one who noticed and when I did, I acted immediately.
Jackson’s shenanigans had inadvertently opened up new paths of inquiry. By randomly but deliberately poking at areas of knowledge specifically unrelated to the task at hand, we were able to isolate the neural activation patterns associated with conscious knowledge independent of emotional belief.
What followed were several successful instances of transmitting discrete pieces of data from broadcaster to receiver, however we then ran into the new problem of getting the receiver to distinguish between their own thoughts and the information being fed to them. Furthermore, when asked to explain the reasoning behind the transmitted answers, receivers became dismissive, evasive and sometimes even agitated, later explaining that the information just “felt true,” a sensation that applied even in instances where the receiver had been deliberately fed incorrect data.
With mounting dread, we realised the danger of the technology we had created.
The true horror sunk in during a coffee break, when by pure chance I saw Jackon’s reflection making an odd hand gesture over the drink of a coworker whose back was turned. I had to force myself to turn around slowly, watching Jackson converse casually without his eyes leaving her face. It wasn’t until she took a sip that he seemed to relax and noticed me by the coffee machine. I did my best to betray nothing, placing my own coffee onto the table in front of him and moving as though to sit when I “remembered” to get cream from the fridge.
This time when I turned I saw his hurried motion plainly in the brushed metal door, and it took all the self control I had not to confront him or punch his lights out. I returned to the table, adding the cream without sitting before returning it to the fridge. I picked up my coffee and was about to walk out of the room with it when Jackson called out to me with some innocent question about my department. It quickly became clear that he was stalling, waiting for me to drink, so I feigned a casual sip with tightly pursed lips as we spoke and he seemed to relax. I took the opportunity to leave with my cup and as soon as I was out of sight went straight to the micro-observation facility.
We had initially aimed to use physical chips implanted in the subject’s brains to establish a connection, but the risk of accidental damage compounded by multiple intrusions in the case of faulty hardware or the replacement of redundant units made this untenable. Thankfully (or perhaps not), we were assisted by our sister department in nanotech, who had developed a biomonitoring system using carbide nanites that could enter the bloodstream through the digestive tract. To test for successful nanite absorption, we just needed to take a blood sample and insert it into an observation case. And it didn’t just work on blood.
I felt my stomach drop as the coffee reading came back positive. A concentration high enough that even a mouthful would fully colonise a body within hours. I felt sick as I entered a vial of my own saliva, and when that test also came back as a weak positive and rising, I almost fainted.
That fucking bastard.
I had to stop myself from running to the configuration deck and came to a sudden halt halfway there. There’s no way Jackson could have done anything underhanded on one of the terminals without someone seeing him. The room, the equipment and change was constantly monitored as a security measure. If he were going to do anything without being detected, it would need to be somewhere private where he could still access the server and the network. He wasn’t authorised to be anywhere near the site’s core infrastructure, but it was the only place where he would have everything he needed.
I didn’t know how I was going to get access to the server room when I arrived - it’s not as if I had access either - but it turned out that I didn’t need access and neither did Jackson.
Lena had access, and she had left the door unlocked.
She looked up at me owlishly from where she was sitting on the floor, cross-legged with a laptop on her knees.
“Oh, Hi Marcus,” she said, parroting Tommy Wiseau’s infamous line as though we were meeting in the break room.
“Lena?” I asked cautiously. “What are you working on?”
“Oh, I’m just making sure that anytime a new host comes online, they’re set to receive only,” she said, as though she were just filling out her calendar. She turned the laptop so that I could see the screen and pointed at the second of two dots on a map of the facility. “See? There you are right next to me. You came online just a minute ago, so I’ve already made you a receiver.”
“And why would you do that?”
“Because Jackson told me to.”
I stared at the unquestioning innocence in her eyes.
“And you have to do what he says?”
Lena rolled her eyes at me. “Obviously.”
“Obviously,” I repeated. The silence was broken only by the steady whine of cooling fans.
Eventually, Lena shifted uncomfortably. “So, what are you doing here? You’re not IT.”
Not wanting to alarm her, I said the first thing that I could think of. “No, but Jackson sent me.”
The way Lena’s face lit up at his name made me feel ill.
“Does that mean you’re working for him too?”
“Yes,” I lied. Like a man laying down rails for a moving train as he’s riding on it, I grabbed blindly for any string of words that might work. “And he told me to come get you for something important. He’s… outside in the parking lot and says you need to come straight away.”
Lena’s brow wrinkled. “Oh, but I have to stay here for stage three. I’ve just finished getting everyone online.”
“That’s fine. He told me to take over. I have to do what he says, remember? You’ve finished stage two, haven’t you? He says you’ve done a very good job.”
Again, the look of bliss that took over Lena’s face twisted my gut.
“Great! Where can I find him?”
“He just told me as he was walking out,” I said, letting Lena stand up and hand me the laptop. “You’ll have to go look for him. He’s keeping an eye out for you.”
“Okay!” I watched Lena leave the room and closed it behind her, making sure to lock it this time. We shared our parking with three other departments across eight floors, so unless Jackson really was there already, that would keep her out of the way.
She’d been right. Jackson had worked his way through the entire department’s staff and I had a live view of every single person in the facility. Watching the glowing dots meander around the map gave me a truly terrifying glimpse into the future we had made possible.
What caught my eye was something that didn’t exist in the standard interface. We had created individual controls for the kind of transmissions we wanted and the direction we wanted them to go in, but Lena had added a new input without a label.
Clicking on it, a text field appears in which the name “Enfield, Lena” was already populated followed by a yes/no switch.
I pressed “yes” and blacked out.
*
I was in the parking lot, on the blue level by bay two-zero-two. At first I wondered how I had been suddenly transported when I realised how strange I felt all over - my body, my clothes and my hair all felt wrong somehow.
I looked down and felt the strength leave my legs as I saw a woman’s body stretching out below me. A woman’s body in a pair of black Mary Janes, matching pencil skirt, white dress shirt and a lanyard whose ID read “Lena Enfield.”
I stared at myself in shock, having fallen to my knees and began running my unfamiliar hands over my unfamiliar body, trying to confirm that I wasn’t somehow dreaming.
“Lena!” a voice echoed across the concrete, causing me to jump in a mix of fear and guilt. I turned in the direction of the voice and felt my heart quail at the side of Jackson striding towards me, his face contorted with fury.
In that instant I felt an overwhelming sense of panic take over and I wanted to be absolutely anywhere except anywhere near him, and in that same moment I felt myself dragged back into the cool air of the server room, sitting on the floor with Lena’s laptop on my legs.
We had theorised that it was possible, but had never been arrogant or stupid enough to try it. The psychological risks and ethical dangers it posed were beyond our ability to rationalise and well outside the original scope of the project, though there were rumours that it would eventually be turned towards a similar end.
But I didn’t have time to marvel at the development. Jackson would interrogate Lena, Lena would tell him the truth, and he would run straight here. I had to act fast.
Jackson would head straight for the server room once he realised what had happened.
I could head straight for the director’s office, but there was no guarantee that she wasn’t also in on his plot. I checked the map again: She had her nanites installed and despite her rank in the organisation had also been set to receive, as had every guard on her floor. Jackson really intended to just dominate everyone in the building. I had all the proof I needed to expose Jackson and have him arrested.
We would need to deprogram Lena. Shit, assuming that was even possible. God only knew how badly Jackson had been screwing with her brain, or for how long. And there was always a chance the higher ups would find out and do what higher ups always do when they have the opportunity to take even more wealth and power.
I fretted for much longer than I should have under the circumstances. Maybe there really was no other way, or maybe I was just deliberately backing myself into a corner. Whatever the case, the sudden jangle of keys at the door alerted me that I had run out of time, and that within seconds, Jackson would be in the room to steal back the laptop, or possibly even frame me, now that he’d been discovered.
I’d considered the option and dismissed it as immoral. Self-serving. A road too dangerous to even consider walking down. But having failed to take any other action, it was the only one I had left.
It was the right thing to do. It was the only thing to do. When the chips are down and the pressure is on, the only person you can depend on is yourself.
I dragged my own icon into the super broadcaster position, and hit “execute.”
*
There wasn’t any sudden rush of sensation. There never had been: Broadcasting just took the data you wanted to impart and transmitted a copy to the target. But for some reason, I still expected something.
What did happen was the sound of keys hitting the floor outside, followed by a hollow groan of absolute despair.
I unlocked the door and opened it to find Jackson, grey-faced and swaying with his hands covering his face. Lena was behind him, looking pitiful, but not nearly as distraught as Jackson.
“Hello, Jackson.” I said flatly.
“Don’t…” he moaned through his hands.
People had begun to file into the room, ashen-faced but with a mix of anger, all of them staring at Jackson as he tried to hide behind himself.
I’d used the nanites to broadcast two things: The knowledge of what Jackson had tried to do, and my overwhelming disgust at him for the attempt.
Now everyone knew what he’d done, he knew that they knew and he shared their hatred for himself because I had copied it directly from my mind into his.
“Nobody hurt him,” I said, seeing the balled fists and shaking hands around me. “Nobody let him hurt himself, either. Get him out of here.”
Four men approached Jackson, who didn’t resist as they grimly marched him away. I turned to Lena, who was running her hands through her hair, wide-eyed and shivering.
“H-he was-s in m-my head…” she stammered.
I didn’t have any words of consolation for her. Least of all, because not moments ago I had also been inside her mind. The only reason she knew about Jackson was because I had “told” her. I motioned for another one of the staff to take her away.
“Alright, everyone,” I said to those who remained. “I want an all-hands meeting in the break room. Tell everyone you see, and someone head upstairs to find…”
I trailed off as I realised how much time would be wasted finding everyone in the building and telling them where to go, and then more wasted simply having the meeting itself, and that was assuming nobody disagreed with what I was about to say.
Well, neither of those things were problems anymore, were they?
I activated my transmitter and broadcast a new set of instructions.
“The project is to be terminated. Nobody can be trusted with this power. Destroy all hardware, all documentation, strip the building down and wipe everything.”
The effect was instant: People began moving with an almost frantic purpose, delegating tasks to themselves or people nearby as files began to be pulled out of drawers and shredded, computers wiped and machinery disassembled. I had intended to join in, but found myself at sea in a centre of bustling activity, so instead walked myself out to my car to lie down and clear my head.
Had I done the right thing? Yes. Absolutely. Any other decision would have exposed everyone to the risk of Jackson regaining control, or the project being compromised by a figure in authority. Even if the director was of sound moral character, her superiors might not be, or their superiors above them. Someone, somewhere in the organisation would have tried to take advantage, just like Jackson did. Better to destroy everything and pretend it never happened.
I watched numbly as a procession of staff began to file out with armfuls and boxes of shredded documents, leaving trails of confetti in their wake. Like ants, they threw their boxes into one of the massive steel containers used for waste disposal. Some others had started fussing over the nearest cars, and it took me a while to realise that they were siphoning the petrol.
My initial alarm was quelled somewhat when they left the containers of fuel to one side instead of lighting it immediately. Any kind of fire would alert the emergency services, who would no doubt try to stop what was happening once they arrived.
It was actually kind of peaceful, sitting apart from the action and just watching it unfold. Almost like watching an ant colony cleaning out a lunchbox: All of the inside bits got broken down and taken outside until all that was left was the shell.
They had filled all six bins and four of the cargo trucks by the time they were done. Everything had been reduced to the smallest parts it could be torn, cut, unscrewed, unplugged or just smashed into. There was no cheering as fuel was added or the flames lit from a safe distance. Just the quiet relief of a terrible future averted.
Someone coughed near me and I turned to see Lena and a few other members of staff with a single trolley loaded with some equipment that hadn’t been destroyed. Confused, I turned to Lena.
“Aren’t you going to add it to the pile?” I asked.
“Not this stuff,” Lena said cheerfully, apparently recovered from her earlier breakdown. “We figured it would be a shame if we destroyed literally everything, so we’ve saved some of it. And because you decided to be mister lazy-pants while the rest of us were hard at work, we’re giving you the job of taking care of it.”
I couldn’t stop my brow furrowing in confusion. “I never told you to do that.”
Lena scoffed as the others began loading the equipment into my car. “Good. We’re not here to do what you tell us. The vote was unanimous: We’re all getting out, so you get to babysit the last remnants. Hide it, destroy it, do whatever you want. This is your share of the responsibility. Maybe next time, do your bit instead of wandering off for a nap, okay?”
And with that, they left to join the rapidly dispersing crowd as everyone jumped into their cars or hitched a ride from the others. A column of black smoke reached up from the facility, and it would be a matter of minutes before the firefighters arrived. Just by virtue of the work we were doing, the cops wouldn’t be far behind.
Without time to get everything out of my car and into the fire, I jumped into the driver’s seat and made my way out with the rest, racking my brain furiously as I tried to avoid speeding on my way home.
I never told them to set aside any equipment for me. No, I never CONSCIOUSLY told them. That really was the only explanation: There was no way that - after being given the artificial impression that the entire project needed to be burned to the ground - they would somehow conveniently decide that I should be trusted with the last pieces of evidence. Not just any evidence, either: At a glance I could tell that I had been left with everything I needed to manufacture and configure the nanites myself, just on a much smaller scale.
Despite my best intentions, some small part of myself had subconsciously implanted the addendum that one way or another, I should have the power to continue the project privately.
Fine, then. I’d get home, pack up what little I could fit and get the hell out of the city, state, maybe even country before finding somewhere I could safely destroy the last remains of a terrible mistake.
That was almost two years ago.
I never did get around to destroying that equipment.
At least, that's what I try to tell myself.
In hindsight, I don’t see how things could have turned out any other way. I’m not saying that as an excuse for any of the things I did or as if it makes them any less bad, but having taken the first step, things just kind of kept happening.
It started at work. I won’t say where.
We were testing methods of remote information transmission that didn’t rely on explicit outputs or inputs. Basically communication that bypassed the barriers outlined in models like Berlo’s SMCR: Instead of relying on language to convey meaning, our aim was to find a way to convey meaning itself directly from one mind to at least one other.
Again, with the benefit of hindsight, the implications were obvious, but we weren’t concerned with whether we should, we just wanted to see if we could. Classic hubris of the scientifically minded.
And it turns out we can. Or more specifically, I can. I’ve made sure all traces of the research material has been scrubbed from any database; every hard drive degaussed, every memory stick smashed into tiny pieces, every document shredded and the whole lot set on fire just to be safe. The technology is too dangerous to risk falling into the wrong hands.
Yes, like mine. It turns out my hands are also the wrong hands, but I didn’t know it at the time. I thought if I just kept the research to myself and studied it in secret, I could find a way to use it to make the world a better place. I guess I can still do that. Maybe it will make up for the bad that I’ve done, which on reflection isn’t even that bad.
Sure, I accidentally corrupted the free will of a fellow human being and inadvertently turned them into my loyal assistant and sex slave, but they’re happy. I know they’re happy, because in a lot of ways, they’re also me.
That helps, right?
*
Everyone was very excited. It was something worth being excited about. Transmission was old tech and measuring changes in brain waves was old tech, but reliably translating knowledge as it was being recalled into data, then being able to implant that data into another mind was a big fucking deal.
Other departments in other labs were specialising in mechanical transmission - robotics and cybernetics, for replacement or auxiliary limbs or remote work in hazardous environments. Useful stuff, but not nearly as delicate as what we were trying to achieve. They were trying to transmit a signal to a robot hand to gently hold an egg: We were trying to pull a single thought out of one mind and stitch it seamlessly into another.
Our first major breakthrough was impression: Not the conveyance of explicit knowledge or of a specific message, just a vague sense experienced by the broadcaster transmitted to the receiver. It had to be a strong sense, which meant staff with intense phobias being the broadcaster knowing what objects were beneath a series of cups, and the receiver choosing a cup at random based on the impression being transmitted to them.
It wasn’t a hundred percent accurate, but the results fell well outside of what would have been possible on pure guesswork and we were pumped to fine tune the technology to see what it could do.
I say “random,” because even though it wasn’t, even though we knew it wasn’t and even though the receiver knew that a successful test would be proof that it wasn’t, they still felt as though they were choosing randomly. At no point did they feel like they were under someone else’s influence or receiving information externally; in every single instance, they were convinced that the experiment had failed and they were just choosing at random.
That should have been our first warning.
We advanced from cups viewed from two positions to mazes navigated from two positions, and then from mazes to simple guessing games like battleships and go fish. Again, no explicit information, but impressions that still left the receiver under the illusion that they were just lucky guessers.
From simple games we moved on to more advanced guessing games like celebrity heads and poker. This was a significant step forwards, but we were still relying on impressions that could be rationalised by the receiver as guesswork and luck. At no point was anyone being fed information that they couldn’t have conceivably deduced, remembered, calculated or bumbled their way into naturally.
That’s when the second major breakthrough happened. One of our broadcasters, Jackson, had gotten tired transmitting the correct answers to his receiver and had started feeding them deliberately incorrect answers. Nothing obvious - just answers that were close enough that they could make even someone who already knew second guess themselves. His receiver had a post-it note on her forehead with “Tiger Woods” written in permanent marker on it, and she had been given the clue “Golfing champion.”
By now, everyone had gotten used to Jackson’s shenanigans, so we grinned or grimaced as poor Lena rattled through every wrong answer she could be compelled to try.
“Tony the Tiger. Michael Jordan. Walt Disney. Santa Claus. Mickey Mouse. Bullroarer Took. Babe Ruth. Heisenberg. Wait, who the hell is Bullroarer Took?”
She didn’t get an answer, as the lab immediately exploded into questions and exclamations and people generally just freaking out. We’d done it, and somehow completely by accident: An entirely new, explicit piece of information had been seamlessly added to a receiver’s brain and it wasn’t until a few seconds after they’d actually said it that they even realised it wasn’t information from their own brain.
That was our second warning.
The third warning came quite a bit later, but by pure chance, I was the only one who noticed and when I did, I acted immediately.
Jackson’s shenanigans had inadvertently opened up new paths of inquiry. By randomly but deliberately poking at areas of knowledge specifically unrelated to the task at hand, we were able to isolate the neural activation patterns associated with conscious knowledge independent of emotional belief.
What followed were several successful instances of transmitting discrete pieces of data from broadcaster to receiver, however we then ran into the new problem of getting the receiver to distinguish between their own thoughts and the information being fed to them. Furthermore, when asked to explain the reasoning behind the transmitted answers, receivers became dismissive, evasive and sometimes even agitated, later explaining that the information just “felt true,” a sensation that applied even in instances where the receiver had been deliberately fed incorrect data.
With mounting dread, we realised the danger of the technology we had created.
The true horror sunk in during a coffee break, when by pure chance I saw Jackon’s reflection making an odd hand gesture over the drink of a coworker whose back was turned. I had to force myself to turn around slowly, watching Jackson converse casually without his eyes leaving her face. It wasn’t until she took a sip that he seemed to relax and noticed me by the coffee machine. I did my best to betray nothing, placing my own coffee onto the table in front of him and moving as though to sit when I “remembered” to get cream from the fridge.
This time when I turned I saw his hurried motion plainly in the brushed metal door, and it took all the self control I had not to confront him or punch his lights out. I returned to the table, adding the cream without sitting before returning it to the fridge. I picked up my coffee and was about to walk out of the room with it when Jackson called out to me with some innocent question about my department. It quickly became clear that he was stalling, waiting for me to drink, so I feigned a casual sip with tightly pursed lips as we spoke and he seemed to relax. I took the opportunity to leave with my cup and as soon as I was out of sight went straight to the micro-observation facility.
We had initially aimed to use physical chips implanted in the subject’s brains to establish a connection, but the risk of accidental damage compounded by multiple intrusions in the case of faulty hardware or the replacement of redundant units made this untenable. Thankfully (or perhaps not), we were assisted by our sister department in nanotech, who had developed a biomonitoring system using carbide nanites that could enter the bloodstream through the digestive tract. To test for successful nanite absorption, we just needed to take a blood sample and insert it into an observation case. And it didn’t just work on blood.
I felt my stomach drop as the coffee reading came back positive. A concentration high enough that even a mouthful would fully colonise a body within hours. I felt sick as I entered a vial of my own saliva, and when that test also came back as a weak positive and rising, I almost fainted.
That fucking bastard.
I had to stop myself from running to the configuration deck and came to a sudden halt halfway there. There’s no way Jackson could have done anything underhanded on one of the terminals without someone seeing him. The room, the equipment and change was constantly monitored as a security measure. If he were going to do anything without being detected, it would need to be somewhere private where he could still access the server and the network. He wasn’t authorised to be anywhere near the site’s core infrastructure, but it was the only place where he would have everything he needed.
I didn’t know how I was going to get access to the server room when I arrived - it’s not as if I had access either - but it turned out that I didn’t need access and neither did Jackson.
Lena had access, and she had left the door unlocked.
She looked up at me owlishly from where she was sitting on the floor, cross-legged with a laptop on her knees.
“Oh, Hi Marcus,” she said, parroting Tommy Wiseau’s infamous line as though we were meeting in the break room.
“Lena?” I asked cautiously. “What are you working on?”
“Oh, I’m just making sure that anytime a new host comes online, they’re set to receive only,” she said, as though she were just filling out her calendar. She turned the laptop so that I could see the screen and pointed at the second of two dots on a map of the facility. “See? There you are right next to me. You came online just a minute ago, so I’ve already made you a receiver.”
“And why would you do that?”
“Because Jackson told me to.”
I stared at the unquestioning innocence in her eyes.
“And you have to do what he says?”
Lena rolled her eyes at me. “Obviously.”
“Obviously,” I repeated. The silence was broken only by the steady whine of cooling fans.
Eventually, Lena shifted uncomfortably. “So, what are you doing here? You’re not IT.”
Not wanting to alarm her, I said the first thing that I could think of. “No, but Jackson sent me.”
The way Lena’s face lit up at his name made me feel ill.
“Does that mean you’re working for him too?”
“Yes,” I lied. Like a man laying down rails for a moving train as he’s riding on it, I grabbed blindly for any string of words that might work. “And he told me to come get you for something important. He’s… outside in the parking lot and says you need to come straight away.”
Lena’s brow wrinkled. “Oh, but I have to stay here for stage three. I’ve just finished getting everyone online.”
“That’s fine. He told me to take over. I have to do what he says, remember? You’ve finished stage two, haven’t you? He says you’ve done a very good job.”
Again, the look of bliss that took over Lena’s face twisted my gut.
“Great! Where can I find him?”
“He just told me as he was walking out,” I said, letting Lena stand up and hand me the laptop. “You’ll have to go look for him. He’s keeping an eye out for you.”
“Okay!” I watched Lena leave the room and closed it behind her, making sure to lock it this time. We shared our parking with three other departments across eight floors, so unless Jackson really was there already, that would keep her out of the way.
She’d been right. Jackson had worked his way through the entire department’s staff and I had a live view of every single person in the facility. Watching the glowing dots meander around the map gave me a truly terrifying glimpse into the future we had made possible.
What caught my eye was something that didn’t exist in the standard interface. We had created individual controls for the kind of transmissions we wanted and the direction we wanted them to go in, but Lena had added a new input without a label.
Clicking on it, a text field appears in which the name “Enfield, Lena” was already populated followed by a yes/no switch.
I pressed “yes” and blacked out.
*
I was in the parking lot, on the blue level by bay two-zero-two. At first I wondered how I had been suddenly transported when I realised how strange I felt all over - my body, my clothes and my hair all felt wrong somehow.
I looked down and felt the strength leave my legs as I saw a woman’s body stretching out below me. A woman’s body in a pair of black Mary Janes, matching pencil skirt, white dress shirt and a lanyard whose ID read “Lena Enfield.”
I stared at myself in shock, having fallen to my knees and began running my unfamiliar hands over my unfamiliar body, trying to confirm that I wasn’t somehow dreaming.
“Lena!” a voice echoed across the concrete, causing me to jump in a mix of fear and guilt. I turned in the direction of the voice and felt my heart quail at the side of Jackson striding towards me, his face contorted with fury.
In that instant I felt an overwhelming sense of panic take over and I wanted to be absolutely anywhere except anywhere near him, and in that same moment I felt myself dragged back into the cool air of the server room, sitting on the floor with Lena’s laptop on my legs.
We had theorised that it was possible, but had never been arrogant or stupid enough to try it. The psychological risks and ethical dangers it posed were beyond our ability to rationalise and well outside the original scope of the project, though there were rumours that it would eventually be turned towards a similar end.
But I didn’t have time to marvel at the development. Jackson would interrogate Lena, Lena would tell him the truth, and he would run straight here. I had to act fast.
Jackson would head straight for the server room once he realised what had happened.
I could head straight for the director’s office, but there was no guarantee that she wasn’t also in on his plot. I checked the map again: She had her nanites installed and despite her rank in the organisation had also been set to receive, as had every guard on her floor. Jackson really intended to just dominate everyone in the building. I had all the proof I needed to expose Jackson and have him arrested.
We would need to deprogram Lena. Shit, assuming that was even possible. God only knew how badly Jackson had been screwing with her brain, or for how long. And there was always a chance the higher ups would find out and do what higher ups always do when they have the opportunity to take even more wealth and power.
I fretted for much longer than I should have under the circumstances. Maybe there really was no other way, or maybe I was just deliberately backing myself into a corner. Whatever the case, the sudden jangle of keys at the door alerted me that I had run out of time, and that within seconds, Jackson would be in the room to steal back the laptop, or possibly even frame me, now that he’d been discovered.
I’d considered the option and dismissed it as immoral. Self-serving. A road too dangerous to even consider walking down. But having failed to take any other action, it was the only one I had left.
It was the right thing to do. It was the only thing to do. When the chips are down and the pressure is on, the only person you can depend on is yourself.
I dragged my own icon into the super broadcaster position, and hit “execute.”
*
There wasn’t any sudden rush of sensation. There never had been: Broadcasting just took the data you wanted to impart and transmitted a copy to the target. But for some reason, I still expected something.
What did happen was the sound of keys hitting the floor outside, followed by a hollow groan of absolute despair.
I unlocked the door and opened it to find Jackson, grey-faced and swaying with his hands covering his face. Lena was behind him, looking pitiful, but not nearly as distraught as Jackson.
“Hello, Jackson.” I said flatly.
“Don’t…” he moaned through his hands.
People had begun to file into the room, ashen-faced but with a mix of anger, all of them staring at Jackson as he tried to hide behind himself.
I’d used the nanites to broadcast two things: The knowledge of what Jackson had tried to do, and my overwhelming disgust at him for the attempt.
Now everyone knew what he’d done, he knew that they knew and he shared their hatred for himself because I had copied it directly from my mind into his.
“Nobody hurt him,” I said, seeing the balled fists and shaking hands around me. “Nobody let him hurt himself, either. Get him out of here.”
Four men approached Jackson, who didn’t resist as they grimly marched him away. I turned to Lena, who was running her hands through her hair, wide-eyed and shivering.
“H-he was-s in m-my head…” she stammered.
I didn’t have any words of consolation for her. Least of all, because not moments ago I had also been inside her mind. The only reason she knew about Jackson was because I had “told” her. I motioned for another one of the staff to take her away.
“Alright, everyone,” I said to those who remained. “I want an all-hands meeting in the break room. Tell everyone you see, and someone head upstairs to find…”
I trailed off as I realised how much time would be wasted finding everyone in the building and telling them where to go, and then more wasted simply having the meeting itself, and that was assuming nobody disagreed with what I was about to say.
Well, neither of those things were problems anymore, were they?
I activated my transmitter and broadcast a new set of instructions.
“The project is to be terminated. Nobody can be trusted with this power. Destroy all hardware, all documentation, strip the building down and wipe everything.”
The effect was instant: People began moving with an almost frantic purpose, delegating tasks to themselves or people nearby as files began to be pulled out of drawers and shredded, computers wiped and machinery disassembled. I had intended to join in, but found myself at sea in a centre of bustling activity, so instead walked myself out to my car to lie down and clear my head.
Had I done the right thing? Yes. Absolutely. Any other decision would have exposed everyone to the risk of Jackson regaining control, or the project being compromised by a figure in authority. Even if the director was of sound moral character, her superiors might not be, or their superiors above them. Someone, somewhere in the organisation would have tried to take advantage, just like Jackson did. Better to destroy everything and pretend it never happened.
I watched numbly as a procession of staff began to file out with armfuls and boxes of shredded documents, leaving trails of confetti in their wake. Like ants, they threw their boxes into one of the massive steel containers used for waste disposal. Some others had started fussing over the nearest cars, and it took me a while to realise that they were siphoning the petrol.
My initial alarm was quelled somewhat when they left the containers of fuel to one side instead of lighting it immediately. Any kind of fire would alert the emergency services, who would no doubt try to stop what was happening once they arrived.
It was actually kind of peaceful, sitting apart from the action and just watching it unfold. Almost like watching an ant colony cleaning out a lunchbox: All of the inside bits got broken down and taken outside until all that was left was the shell.
They had filled all six bins and four of the cargo trucks by the time they were done. Everything had been reduced to the smallest parts it could be torn, cut, unscrewed, unplugged or just smashed into. There was no cheering as fuel was added or the flames lit from a safe distance. Just the quiet relief of a terrible future averted.
Someone coughed near me and I turned to see Lena and a few other members of staff with a single trolley loaded with some equipment that hadn’t been destroyed. Confused, I turned to Lena.
“Aren’t you going to add it to the pile?” I asked.
“Not this stuff,” Lena said cheerfully, apparently recovered from her earlier breakdown. “We figured it would be a shame if we destroyed literally everything, so we’ve saved some of it. And because you decided to be mister lazy-pants while the rest of us were hard at work, we’re giving you the job of taking care of it.”
I couldn’t stop my brow furrowing in confusion. “I never told you to do that.”
Lena scoffed as the others began loading the equipment into my car. “Good. We’re not here to do what you tell us. The vote was unanimous: We’re all getting out, so you get to babysit the last remnants. Hide it, destroy it, do whatever you want. This is your share of the responsibility. Maybe next time, do your bit instead of wandering off for a nap, okay?”
And with that, they left to join the rapidly dispersing crowd as everyone jumped into their cars or hitched a ride from the others. A column of black smoke reached up from the facility, and it would be a matter of minutes before the firefighters arrived. Just by virtue of the work we were doing, the cops wouldn’t be far behind.
Without time to get everything out of my car and into the fire, I jumped into the driver’s seat and made my way out with the rest, racking my brain furiously as I tried to avoid speeding on my way home.
I never told them to set aside any equipment for me. No, I never CONSCIOUSLY told them. That really was the only explanation: There was no way that - after being given the artificial impression that the entire project needed to be burned to the ground - they would somehow conveniently decide that I should be trusted with the last pieces of evidence. Not just any evidence, either: At a glance I could tell that I had been left with everything I needed to manufacture and configure the nanites myself, just on a much smaller scale.
Despite my best intentions, some small part of myself had subconsciously implanted the addendum that one way or another, I should have the power to continue the project privately.
Fine, then. I’d get home, pack up what little I could fit and get the hell out of the city, state, maybe even country before finding somewhere I could safely destroy the last remains of a terrible mistake.
That was almost two years ago.
I never did get around to destroying that equipment.
mind control
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8
A story about a reverse body hopper and her family.
Katelyn
My family sucks. I do love them, but sometimes they just suck. Thanks to them my life is usually a total mess. You see, I’m a reverse body hopper. What that means is, my family can possess my body so long as they collide with me at a high enough velocity. I then black out completely and wake up again whenever they decide to leave. Thank God this only works with my family and not with total strangers or my life would be over.
They constantly just take my body, and even when they ask they just keep begging and pleading until I finally give in. Well, the only exception is my Dad. He is just the greatest. He’s never even asked to take over my body. In fact, I’ve asked him to hop me before. He would often take over for me when I was sick or when my period was really bad. He’s the only one I can trust to take care of me and respect my body.
I mean, despite how that all sounds, they do love me, I know they do. That’s why they always try to make it up to me, by buying me gifts or doing stuff for me, like chores and my homework, or hitting the gym. I just wish I could spend some time around my family in peace and simply enjoy their company.
When I talk to my friends about it they make a way big of a deal out of it. It’s not like I feel violated or anything, more like just tired and annoyed. I’m probably just so used to it, even though I shouldn’t be, because it’s been going on for so long, longer that I can even remember. Sometimes it makes me feel like public property, like a shared family car that everyone wants to take for a ride. I can’t even imagine the countless amount of hours of my life that I lost to them.
But I guess it’s gotten better since I moved out, simply for the fact that I’m now out of their reach. Although that still doesn’t stop them from asking if they could borrow “me” for a while. Well, at least it’s easier to say “no” over the phone or via text. And as an added bonus, I don’t have to take the pill anymore. I never liked taking it as it messes with my hormones too much. I only took it as a safety precaution so that my family couldn’t do anything too stupid while they were inside of me.
Actually, it’s been a while since I visited my family, ’cause I’ve been so busy at work. I haven’t met all of them yet, since I arrived at my parent’s house very late last night. So far, I’ve only got to meet Mom and Dad. Maybe I’ll see Robby and Chloe at breakfast or whenever they decide to get up.
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Waking up from my daydream, I realized that I had been in the shower for way too long. I turned off the water, reached for my towel, and began drying myself off. I always hated that part, because it made me miss the bliss and warmth of the hot water. Afterwards I got out of the shower and wrapped the towel tightly around my body. Then I stepped into hallway, closed the door behind myself and—
Robert
“Hihi. Welcome home, ‘sis’”, I giggled in my sister’s voice. I quickly flitted off to her room and tightly locked the door behind me. I immediately dropped the towel that “I” was wearing, revealing my older sister’s body in all her naked glory. “Oh, ‘Katy’. You can’t imagine how much I missed ‘you’”, I said, giving “myself” a big hug, squishing my sister’s enormous chest in the process.
I sauntered over to Katy’s full-length mirror, enjoying the sway of her hips with every step. I thoroughly looked her over from head to toe. Her body was simply perfect. Especially her boobs. “Man, I just love your huge rack,“ I told my “sister” while giving her giant globes a firm squeeze. I just couldn’t help myself.
It’s not like I have the hots for my sister. To me, her mind and her body are two separate things. It’s just an unfortunate coincidence that she happened to be a reverse body hopper. I mean, I don’t have a thing for my younger sister or my mom. But then again, neither of them are reverse hoppers.
By now, I’ve hopped my sister so often, that to me it doesn’t really feel like I’m wearing her body. It just feels like I’m being me—a different me. I’ve hopped her since I was a child, even before I hit puberty. The first time was a total accident, and back then she found it cute and adorable, maybe because I was, and also because she was always pretty motherly towards me; she’s my older sister after all. But ever since we, especially I, hit puberty, she disliked me hopping her more and more.
I guess it was bad timing that I discovered her ability when I did, which is probably the reason why I am attracted to her body. In a way you could say that we developed alongside each other, even though she had a two-year headstart. I mean, not many people get to experience growing up both as a boy and a girl, and in more than one way I am thankful for that. Because of her I know what it feels like to become a woman and I think that made us closer than any other siblings. Over the years, I got to experience the swelling of her breasts and the widening of her hips, among other things. And I always loved how her body felt so much softer. Maybe I was secretly envious of that, or maybe I just enjoyed the feeling, I don’t even know.
Nevertheless, I’m a guy afterall and as a hormonal teenager I took advantage of that unique opportunity every way I could. My sister is the reason why, so far, I’ve only dated girls who are slightly older than me. I hopped her way more often than she even knows. There were times when I would sneak into her bedroom almost every. Thankfully, now that I’m older and in college, I have myself much better under control. Although it’s still hard to resist hopping her sometimes. But then again, that whole experience really taught me how to please a woman.
I’m ashamed to admit it, but a few weeks ago I even had sex with her when our little sister was wearing her. I just couldn’t help myself. The combination of my preexisting attraction to her body and my little sister coming on to me was simply too much for me not to give in. To this day, it was still the best sex I ever had. Sometimes, when the sex with a girlfriend gets a little boring, I imagine my sister in her place, which always perks me up again. One time I even accidentally said her name, which was the end of that relationship.
By now, “I” was already dripping wet as I had been rubbing “my” crotch and massaging “my” breasts the whole time I stood in front of the mirror. Feeling that my knees were getting weak, I hurried over and threw myself onto Katy’s bed. There I really went at it by reaching deep inside of my sister’s hole and groping her boobs and tweaking her nipples. I planned on giving her a warm welcome-home present, so I kept frantically sloshing two of her fingers in and out of her dripping wet cunt. After a few minutes of expert stimulation, I felt that her body was on the cusp of an orgasm and abruptly jumped out of her.
Katelyn
Like so many times before, I suddenly woke up in my room. I was lying on my bed, one hand clutching my breast, the other burried inside of me, the latter keept penetrating me, seemingly all on its own. Without a warning, a wave of pleasure hit me. A warm tingling bloomed between my legs and then ratiated outwards, coursing through my entire body. It all happened so fast, I couldn’t stop myself from letting out a long, high-pitched moan. The sudden and intense pleasure made me squirt so much, I soiled both my hand and my bedsheets.
“Welcome home, sis,” my brother laughed with a big, dirty grin plastered across his face. “Robby, you asshole!” I yelled at him. As I pulled my hand from my vagina, strings of the gooey slime that coated my fingers followed it. “Ew, you’re such a disgusting pig.” “Why? Don’t you like your ‘present’?” he asked while he made a run for the door. “You could’ve at least cleaned up after yourself,” I tried to call after him, but he had already fled my room. “Great. Now I have to take another shower.”
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All clean again, I joined my parents at the breakfast table. The table was overflowing with food as my Mom had really gone all out to celebrate my long-awaited return home. “Did you sleep well, honey?” my mother asked. “Oh, yes, fantastic. It felt really great to sleep in my old bed again,” I said while I loaded my plate with waffles and fruits. “What was all that ruckus about earlier?” my father grumbled. “Just Robby being the prick that he usually is.” “Hmpf. I guess I need to have a word with him later.”
“Katyyyyy!” I heard my little sister yell as she ran towards me. I hadn’t even managed to get the first bite of my breakfast when she already gave me a big hug. “Oh, you don’t know how much I missed you, sis!” “Did you really miss me or just my body?” I retorted. “Of course I missed you, silly. You’re my favorite sister.” “I’m your only sister,” I interjected. “Right. But since you brought it up: can I borrow ‘you’ today? Just for this morning, I promise. It’s been way too long since the last time.”
“Leave your sister alone, Chloe,” my Dad commanded. “You’ll make her feel not welcome in her own home. No wonder she is hardly here.” “Oh, she doesn’t mind, Daddy. Right sis?” she said, looking at me with her huge puppy dog eyes. “Yes, I do.” “Come on, Katy. Please? Just for a little bit!” “No,” I responded flatly. “Pleeeeeaaaase. I’ll even go to the gym for you. Remember how much you hate doing that?” “No, I don’t. You’re just making shit up. But, hmm, well. It’s been forever since I had any form of exercise. Work kept me really busy lately,” I pondered aloud. “Pretty please?” she said pouting her lips. “Ugh, fine, I guess,” I reletend. Chloe squealed in response.
“Sweety,” my Mom interjected timidly. “I’m sorry, this might be bad timing and come off as rude, but would you mind if tonight—”. “Yes, yes, it’s fine,” I interrupted her annoyed. “You can all ‘borrow’ my body. But get it out of your systems today, ’cause there will be no hopping tomorrow! I—”
Chloe
“Chloe!” my Mom scolded me. “You could have at least let your sister eat breakfast herself,”. “But Moooom,” I whined in my older sister’s voice. “You heard her. She said it was okay.” I wolfed down my sister’s breakfast as fast as I could and then raced up the stairs and into Katy’s room, leaving my speechless parents behind.
Finally behind closed doors I began rubbing my sister’s flat belly. I loved doing that so much, her pussy always immediately begins to tingle in response. Unfortunately, I wasn’t as blessed in the looks departement as my older sister was. As far back as I can remember I have been chubby. And with each year, it’s gotten worse. I can’t seem to lose weight, no matter what I try. Which makes me feel jealous of her sometimes, even though I know that it isn’t her fault.
In contrast to mine, her body is really slim and always feels so light and full of energy. It even makes going to the gym a lot of fun. In my own body it is just pure torture. And the reactions I get from other people are just so different. When I’m her, people seem to adore me, but when I’m myself, they seem to despise me. Even though I’m the same person; only my looks change.
That’s the main reason why I’ve been hopping her since I was little. Also, being in her body always made me feel so mature and grown-up. I always felt especially proud when I was wearing her big boobs. I loved showing them off and catching someone trying to secretly glance at them (or sometimes even outright staring). Back then they seemed enormous, especially compared to, what I considered, my own underdeveloped body. In hindsight, when I look at them now in old photos, they don’t seem that big. Sure, they were bigger than those of other girls her age, but still, nothing compared to what she sports now.
At that time, three years simply seemed like such a huge gap, and I guess I was simply too imature. She was always just way ahead of me and I felt I could never catch up to her, even though to an actual adult she might have still looked like a child and not that much different from me.
Seducing guys as my sister is my favorite thing to do, especially since they won’t even look at me in my own body. It always gives me such a thrill. Seeing them squirm and try to impress me, just for me to ultimately blow them off anyway is so incredibly delicious. If they only could see the fat, ugly girl they were actually hitting on—their faces would be priceless.
A couple of weeks ago I even got my own brother in the sack. I’m not attracted to him per se, but there is something about the challenge of seducing someone who shouldn’t even be looking at you like. It was just irresistible to me. The greatest challenge yet would be fucking my Dad, but he’s way to old and even thinking about that is just yuck.
In the end though, seducing my brother turned out to be not too difficult, since he had been hopping our sister all the time anyway. That was a bit of a let-down, but the sex was still amazing. He really knows his way around a woman’s body, or at least Katy’s.
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An hour later I arrived at the gym. I was wearing an outfit that I had bought just for my sister’s body. She refused to wear it herself since she always found it too revealing, but well, nothing she can do about it while I’m in charge. I mean, I have to admit, it’s basically just a sports bra that shows off her huge tits and exposes her toned midriff, paired with an incredibly tight pair of yoga pants. I especially love how far these pants are riding up inbetween her butt cheeks. Her ass is practically devouring them.
The moment I stepped into the building I had all he meatheads gawking at me. And who could blame them, when I’m always giving them a reason to, making sure to give them a show in my sister’s body. I guess they must have missed her as much as I did, since I used to be a regular in this gym before my sister moved out.
I started with my usual warm up routine. Every couple of minutes some jock would come up to me, trying to hit on me under the guise of “just giving advice”. I always initially flirt with them, even play a little dumb, only to then crush their feeble little egos by demonstrating how much more I knew about working out than them. Then I blow them off by making it crystal clear that their tiny, roided up dicks will never even get a whiff of my sister’s pussy. They always call me a bitch or a whore, or some other name, but eventually they all walk off deflated since they know that the security around here is pretty tight.
After I was finished with the “entrée”, I began serving the “main course”: squats to show off my sister’s firm ass (with a pair of tits on the side). Considering how much work I put into her booty over the years, I think by now half of it should be legally mine. Well, at least enough to call it “mine”.
By now, more and more guys came to approach me, sometimes even two of them at once. It was so hot seeing them fight over me. I even caught some guys filming me in the reflection of the of the mirror. Meanwhile, I kept teasing them and riling them up, all while having the plausible deniability of “working out“. Even though I was drenched in sweat from all the exertion, it wasn’t responsible for all the wetness on my body, at least not the one inbetween my legs.
I blew off the last guy buzzing around me and started putting away the weights in preparation to go home after a successful “workout”. As my gaze casually travelled around, not looking for anything in particular, my eyes suddenly honed in on what I then decided would become my “dessert”. I undid my ponytail, letting my sweat-drenched hair loose. While I sneaked up on my prey, I seductively swayed my hips, exuding confidence with ever step, and making “my” tits jiggle just the right amount. Over the years I had carefully cultivated and honed the skills to perfectly show of my sister’s body to the fullest. Unfortunately, these skills didn’t transfer to my own body, for obvious reasons.
I licked my luscious lips in anticipation as I came closer and closer to my target: a pale, scrawny, hairless nerd with thick glasses. You might wonder what a hot girl like “me” is doing approaching a “loser” like that. Well, let’s just say I have a thing for nerds. And also, I’m already very familiar with this particular geek. His name is Mark and he actually is in one of my college classes, but so far I didn’t have the confidence to approach him in my own body. In my sister’s body, on the other hand, I practically had an overabundance of it.
He was oblivious to my encroaching presence as he seemed preoccupied with his struggle to lift even the lightest of weights. When he realized that I was approaching him he looked befuddled and just stared at me like a deer in headlights.
“Hey, stud,” I said in a raspy whisper. “I’ve never seen you around here. Do you come here often?” “N-N-No,” he stammered. “I-I j-just started w-w-working out.” God, I love when people get nervous like that. It gets me all wet. Especially when they blush like that. “Oh, really? A hunk like you? Then where did you get these strong arms from?” I said while caressing his bicep—or rather, lack thereof. “A-Are you making fun of me?” “No, of course not,” I laughed, lightly slapping his feeble chest.
To get him on my good side again, I pulled out one of my favorite routines. I intentionally dropped something and then went, “Oopsie. I can really be such a klutz sometimes.” I made a show of it by clearly stepping in front of him, turning around, and then bending over.
For the cherry on top I pushed my ass against his crotch. The second our bodies touched, I could immediately tell how hard he was already. He tried to move away, but I just pushed even deeper into him. For good measure I began grinding against his member, eliciting a moan from him. When I got up I could see that his face was a deep crimson.
From afar I could hear a few men cursing and jeering, wondering why such a “hot chick” was grinding up against such a “pathetic little dweeb” like him. I could barely hide the devilish grin that appeared on “my” face. I stepped closer, pushed his tiny noodle of an arm inbetween my sister’s giant tits, and whispered in his ear, “it seems we have an audience. Would you prefer taking this somewhere private?” Unable to respond, all he could muster was to swallow hard. “I’ll take that as a yes,“ I said giving him a wink. Then I dragged him off to the locker rooms.
On the way over there he made a pathetic attempt at a protest, but even if he had tried to resist earnestly, I was still stronger than him. Finally arriving at our destination, I pushed him into one of the women’s changing rooms and locked the door behind us. This space was so tiny, we could almost feel our steamy breaths on each other’s skin. We were both reeking of sweat.
I pushed my chest out and looked at him expectantly, but he just stood there doing nothing. It was so cute how I had to coax him into everything. I took charge and, with determination, pulled up my sports bra, flopping out my sister’s huge rack. Yet, he still wouldn’t move. Even when I physically placed his hands onto my chest he acted like a dead fish.
“Come on. Play with them,” I commanded. “I want you to.” But still: nothing. Then I firmly grabbed his crotch, which finally seemed to wake him up. “I-I’m sorry. This is my first time,” he said bashfully while he began to clumsily fondle my boobs. It felt a lot like masturbating with your other hand. He was so adorable, which got me insanely hot.
While he kept playing with my Katy’s tits I began rubbing her pussy. At one point he even felt adventurous enough to tweak her nipples, which sparked a surprising amount of pleasure in my sister’s tender flesh. Man, Katy’s body simply feels incredible. If I could, I would never leave.
When I could feel “my” pussy quiver in demand for more, I knew that I was ready. I took his hand off my boobs, turned around, and then quickly pulled down my pants. Leaning against the wall, I stuck out my butt and presented him with my sister’s cleanly shaven folds. “Come on. Put it in. I’m hungry for your meat,” I said, my voice dripping with lust.
Unlike before, I didn’t have to tell him twice this time, which didn’t mean that he handled the situation more skillfully. He had trouble putting his dick in me, as he kept fumbling around, constantly missing the right hole. I giggled, seeing him all flustered like that. “Dammit! I-I’m sorry. T-This is my f-first time,” He kept saying that, which turned me on even more.
“Why don’t you let me handle that?” I said to him. Then I grabbed his shaft and guided it into the right entrance. I gasped as I felt him slowly pushing into me. This nerd was surprisingly well hung. Sure, I had way bigger dicks before, but compared to what you would expect from the rest of his physique, it was enormous.
It seemed that he was finally beginning to grow a pair. He started out very timidly, but with each thrust he gained more confidence, and rammed his prick into me ever more viciously. The more his ferocity increased, the louder I moaned. My ass cheeks jiggled every time his hips slapped against them. With the enormous speed that he was eventually going at, my whole body felt like it was vibrating.
“Yes! Yes! Harder!” I screamed in my sister's voice. I didn’t care if anyone heard us. In fact, I wanted them to hear us. I wanted everyone in this gym to know how much he satisfied me. Especially those troglodytes that kept hitting on me in vain. They should know that they are nothing compared to him.
He must have been close, because I felt him preparing for one big, final thrust. Unfortunately, his clumsiness hadn’t magically dissipated in the past few minutes, as he accidentally slipped out of me and, on his thrust forward, naturally missed the entrance. Instead, his dick slid up inbetween my cheeks and then burst, coating my entire back with his sperm. This last act of derpiness drove me wild and gifted me with an incredible climax. I almost collapsed, because my legs were shaking so much.
We were both breathing hard as we were coming down. When I recovered, I wordlessly pulled my pants up and put Katy’s boobs back into my sports bra. As a goodbye I gave him one final french kiss and said to him, “you were amazing. Let’s do this again some time.” I turned around and just left him standing there in disbelief, his mouth wide open, probably unable to comprehend what just had happened. I left the gym still with his masterpiece painted on my back for all to see.
Katelyn
I got my body back just in time for lunch. My sister returned my body clean and in perfect condition, although it was exhausted from the workout and my nether regions felt suspiciously funny. I was able to spend the afternoon as myself, because, luckily, Robby was occupied with some class project and, well, Dad doesn’t really want to hop me anyway. I spent my free time just lazing around and relaxing, recuperating from all the weeks of stress and whatever shenanigans Chloe was up to earlier. Unfortunately, time flew by way too quickly and soon it was time for my Mom to take over.
Susan
It was finally my turn to hop Katy, which got me nearly giddy. But in the back of my mind, I also felt bad that we all were so greedy when it came to her. She is rarely at home nowadays, and the few times she does come around, she barely has any time to be herself.
In the beginning, when we first found out about her powers, I wasn’t even interested in hopping her. I mean, why would I want to be a child again? And my own daughter at that? I simply did not care for that. But as she grew up and matured into a woman, I got a little curious.
The first time I hopped her was when she had just turned sixteen. She was about to go to a party with her friends when she came downstairs all dolled up. Seeing her like that got me really reminiscent, and I have to admit, a little envious as well. It made me nostalgic for my own youth and my “wilder” years, when I was out and about almost every weekend. So in a moment of weakness, when she wasn’t paying attention, I quickly jumped into her body and then went partying with her friends all night long. The next day she got really mad at me and made me make it up to her, because she had been looking forward to that night for a very long time.
But now she is a full-grown adult, with a job and her own apartement and everything. I still can’t believe how much Katy looks like myself, or at least how I did twenty-five years ago. Hopping her always feels like I’m stepping into a time machine. Goodbye saggy tits, adieu flabby love handles, and au revoir wrinkly skin. Everything about her was so taut and perky.
And the best is: her youthful body was just full of life and energy. Even my husband mentioned that when I’m in her body, there is always a certain glow about “her”. He said it’s like I’m radiating pure happiness.
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It was close to nine p.m. and I was almost ready to go out. I had already applied all of my makeup and done “my” hair. The only thing left was to squeeze my daughter’s nubile body into the tightest dress that she owned. When I finally pulled the straps over her shoulders, I found that her cleavage was spilling out. Did her boobs grow again? I thought she was done with that. I don’t think I was ever this big, at least no while also being this slim. Kids these days are unbelievable.
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The only thing I remember of that night is that I still had a strong buzz going when I arrived home. One strap of my dress had come off long ago, loosely dangling off my shoulder, and almost exposing my daughter’s nipple. I stumbled my way through the darkness as I didn’t want to turn the lights on so that I wouldn’t wake anyone. I even climbed the stairs on all fours just to stay as quiet as possible. Eventually I made my way to the master bedroom, where my husband was snoring in a deep slumber. I just crawled onto the bed and under the blanket, not even bothering to undress.
I don’t know whether it was the residual alcohol, all the guys at the club, or the fact that I was in my daughter’s youthful body, but I was incredibly horny. I tried playing with “myself” so I could finally fall asleep, but that didn’t help. Frustrated from the lack of release I carefully peeled back the blanket. I immediately went for my husbands bottoms, delicately fishing out his big, juicy cock. Even though I could hardly see anything, it looked so delicious and felt so plump in my daughter’s soft hands. Without hesitation I started sucking him off like I had so many times before, in a way that I knew would get him hard in seconds.
I managed to bob my head up and down his shaft only a few times, having hardly any time to enjoy his familiar taste, before he was good to go. I slowly errected myself, making sure not to shift my weight too abruptly. Luckily, my husband was still fast asleep. I swung one leg over, pulled my panties aside, and then lowered myself onto him. I gasped when I felt the tip of his thick member enter our daughter’s dripping wet pussy. I greatly enjoyed every inch of him slowly sliding up inside of me. I was practically impaling myself.
Feeling his girth part our daughter’s young, forbidden folds was simply too much for me: I accidentally let a small moan slip out. I immediately clasped my hands over my mouth and froze any and all of my movements. After a small, silent pause his snoring resumed and I continued on. Eventually I bottomed out and my husband now had his whole sex embedded inside of his own daughter.
I started gently gyrating my hips back and forth, “my” lips rubbing against him in the process. The resulting friction cheered me on to go faster. My husband’s snores soon turned into mumbling and then into moans. I practically devoured his cock, as I was now bouncing up and down on him, swallowing him whole with “my” slippery cunt. In my own body I couldn’t have done that. I’m simply too old now.
At some point he must have been at least half-awake, because he grabbed my hips and started thrusting as he moaned my name. I know it was probably too dark for him to see anything properly, but having him confuse our daughter’s body for myself really gave both my ego and my arousal a huge spike. In that moment I felt really mischievous, and also a little bit naughty, so to tease him I simply moaned, “Oh, yes, Daddy!” His eyes suddenly flew wide open and he sputtered in shock, as he only now realized that he was fucking his own daughter.
He tried to push me off, but he was severly weakend due to all of the pleasure I was giving him. “Wait, Katy! What are you doihhhnggg—oh my God—ooooohhhhhhh…,” he groaned as his creamy load exploded inside of “me”. Unfortunately, “my” body wasn’t satisfied yet, as I desperately kept riding dick, which became more and more limp with every second.
After a couple of deep breaths he seemed to have regained both a clear mind and his strength. He tried to wrestle me off of himself, causing me to lose balance. He lunged to catch me but I only managed to yelp as we both fell off the bed.
Walter
I suddenly found myself lying on something that was both hard and soft at the same time. My mind was hazy and I felt very disoriented. It all happened so fast: one moment I was having sex with my wife, but then suddenly my daughter seemed on top of me. Everything seemed like a dream and I still wasn’t sure whether I was actually awake. On top of that I felt not only drunk but also aroused, and there was something gooey inside of me. My mind was in total chaos.
Then I felt something stirring underneath me. “I’m sorry honey, but could get off of me?” I heard my wife say. I rolled off of her and onto the floor, still unsure what was going on. “Honey, is that you? What happened?” I groaned, my voice sounding off. I rolled over and onto my stomach so I could get up more easily. But somehow I rolled onto two giant pillows that were now squeezed between me and the floor. Then it finally dawned on me: I was in my daughter’s body.
“Wait … why am I in Katy’s body?” I wondered. It finally clicked. “Whatthehell? Whatwereyouthinking?” I slurred my words. “Sshhh, not so loud. You’ll wake the kids,” my wife said. “Susan, what is wrong with you? How could you have sex with me in Katy’s body. This is our daughter for crying out loud?” “I’m sorry,” my wife said with tears welling up in her eyes. “I couldn’t control myself. I was drunk.” “What if she finds out?” I panicked.
I tried standing up, but my knees were just too wobbly for that. “Let’s get you off the floor first,” my wife said as she helped me. My daughter’s underwear felt uncomfortably wet, as it seemed to have caught a large gob of my essence. As I leaned on my wife for support, I could even feel a little bit of it leaking down my leg. “Ugh, I feel disgusting,” I moaned.
My wife helped me get onto the bed and then joined me on the other side, sitting next to me. We kept arguing in hushed voices for about half an hour, debating back and forth how we would handle this situation, but we couldn’t agree on a solution. “I’m terribly sorry about what I did,” she whispered. “Let’s just go to sleep for now and talk more about this tomorrow, okay?” “Fine,” I grumbled. I turned on my side, away from my wife, while she gently stroked my head.
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Susan seemed to have fallen asleep rather quickly as I could hear her snoring not much later. I, on the other hand, had trouble finding rest: I was simply too upset. And besides, “my” loins were still burning with desire, probably because my wife was unable to finish her escapades. I tried fighting it the entire time, but in the end, I cracked. Despite the imense pleasure I got from “playing with myself”, I felt really terrible for violating my own daughter’s body. She should have never been touched like that by her own father.
As my fingers were hastily going in and out, I unwittingly kept pushing my very own seed deeper and deeper inside of her. I was writhing underneath the blanket, inside my daughter’s body, right next to my sleeping wife. That thought finally pushed me over the edge. Trying to stay as quietly as possible, I bit my lip and just “exhaled” deeply. I could feel all that built-up tension melt away. Having found release, my eyes lids suddenly became ver heavy and I was finally able to fall asleep.
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I woke up with a pounding headache the next morning. “Ugh, Susan, honey, I don’t think I feel so good,” I groaned. I flopped my arm over to search for my wife right next to me but ultimately I only found empty space. She must have gotten up already. Groggily I dragged myself out of bed. With my body feeling like a bag of bricks I stumbled all the way to the bathroom. Inside, I turned on the lights and then let out a big yawn while rubbing my eyes.
Looking in the mirror, I blinked and squinted until I was able to focus. But when I finally managed to have a clear look, I was in for a shock: in front of me stood my daughter in the worst state I had ever seen her in. Her hair was a total mess and her makeup smudgy. Both straps of her dress had come loose, exposing her chest. And the hem had curled up around her waist, revealing large, crusty stains on her underwear. The events of last night finally came back, hitting me like a freight train.
I had to grab the sink to balance myself, as I was suddenly hit by a spell of dizziness. My heart was racing and I started hyperventilating. Oh my God, what had we done? What had I done? Images of my and our indecent acts from last night kept flashing in my mind. I felt so disgusted, I almost started vomiting.
I tried forcing myself to calm down by first taking control of my breath. Inhale … exhale … in … and out … in … and out. Slowly I managed to calm down enough to gather some thoughts. The first thing I decided on was to take a shower and clean “myself” up. I did not want our daughter to wake up to her body in such a disgusting state and find out what we did to her like that.
I gulped when I realized that this meant I had to see her naked. I try not to look at her in a sexual way. She is my daughter after all. But it’s hard sometimes, because she looks just like her mother did twenty-five years ago. Last night was the first time ever that I had done something indecent with or inside of her body.
Eventually I had to bite the bullet and began undressing. I tried keeping my eyes shut, but that turned out to be too much of a hindrance. After I was done, I tried to give my daughter at least some amount of decency by crossing her legs and folding her arms over her chest. But unfortunately, this made me hyper-aware of her body parts, as “my” arms were squishing her breasts and “my” thighs kept squeezing her folds. My daughter’s face was now beet red and I looked away in embarrassment.
I realized, that if I was going to do this, then I had to do it quickly, because there was no apparent way around it and the longer it took the worse it would get. I practically jumped into the shower, closed the shower curtain, and turned on the water, all in one swift motion. The second the hot water hit my skin I could quite literally feel the dirt and grime wash away. Relaxation spread all over myself and for a moment I even forgot that I was in my daughter’s body.
Washing her hair and face was no problem, but when it was time for her boobs I felt like a pervert. Just calling them that—“boobs”—gave me a bit of an ick. But I felt even more perverted for enjoying it. I just couldn’t deny how big and soft they were. And how firm her butt was.
I “saved” the worst part for the end: cleaning her private parts. I really didn’t want to after what I did last night, but there was still quite a lot of dried up residue from left inside of her. Reluctantly I began entering my daughter, only one finger at first. As I kept scrubbing her inner walls, “it” responded by quivering and “thanking” me with a tingling sensation. I cursed myself for liking it.
The entire time I fought hard to ignore the “positive feedback” I was getting. But the longer it lasted and the deeper I went, the more I liked it. Eventually I had to stop fooling myself and admit that I wasn’t cleaning anymore, but instead I was getting off in my daughter’s body again. Soon after I peaked and cried out, my daughter’s voice filled with pleasure. I breathed hard as this time it wasn’t just the feeling of water that was washing all over her body.
When I finally came down from my high, I was left with regret and disgust. Even though my daughter’s body was now perfectly clean, my mind felt incredibly dirty.
Katelyn
When I got my body back the day after, my parents acted really fishy. They tried to pretend like nothing happened and were trying to play it off when I asked them directly, but I could cleary tell that something was up by the way they were avoiding eye contact. Reluctantly I returned home in the evening. During the weeks after that, my family kept hopping me less and less, even though I would visit home more often. The few times they did hop me they would do so at odd times and without even asking beforehand, almost like they had planned it.
Also, I noticed that my belly had grown a bit. At first I thought that I was gaining weight, but one weekend, when I was staying home, I realized that I hadn’t had my period in quite some time. The moment that realization hit me, the pieces began falling into place: my parents had hopped me every time I was supposed to be due. Through all the seemingly random hoppings I kind of lost track of my cycle, and generally paid less attention to it.
I immediately did a pregnancy test, which confirmed what I had feared: yes, I was pregnant. My first reaction was disbelief. But when the reality of it all sank in, I became overwhelmed to the point dizziness. After I had some time to digest the news, I became incredibly livid. Not only did they do something so horrendously stupid to me, they also tried to cover up their mistake, dodging any and all responsibility.
Fuming, I drove over to their house to confront them with the facts, getting a hefty speeding ticket on the way there. When I threw the results of my pregnancy test in their faces, they were dead silent. Like before they wouldn’t even look me in the eyes. And every time they did manage to open their pathetic mouths, they were just squirming. It was insanely frustrating. I just barely managed to get out of them that, yes, I was indeed pregnant with my father’s child. Speechless, I just stormed off. I went “no contact” with them and blocked them on all my devices, unsure when or if I ever would speak to them again.
As for the baby that is growing inside of me: I’m very likely not going to keep it. I mean, I wasn’t planning on becoming a mother so soon; I’m not even in a relationship right now. And I sure as hell didn’t plan on having my father’s child. Considering how I was treated in my life so far, I think that I don’t even want to have children—ever. I don’t want them to run the risk of becoming a reverse hopper like me; I wouldn’t want to inflict that on anyone.
Well, right now, the future seems really uncertain.
Katelyn
My family sucks. I do love them, but sometimes they just suck. Thanks to them my life is usually a total mess. You see, I’m a reverse body hopper. What that means is, my family can possess my body so long as they collide with me at a high enough velocity. I then black out completely and wake up again whenever they decide to leave. Thank God this only works with my family and not with total strangers or my life would be over.
They constantly just take my body, and even when they ask they just keep begging and pleading until I finally give in. Well, the only exception is my Dad. He is just the greatest. He’s never even asked to take over my body. In fact, I’ve asked him to hop me before. He would often take over for me when I was sick or when my period was really bad. He’s the only one I can trust to take care of me and respect my body.
I mean, despite how that all sounds, they do love me, I know they do. That’s why they always try to make it up to me, by buying me gifts or doing stuff for me, like chores and my homework, or hitting the gym. I just wish I could spend some time around my family in peace and simply enjoy their company.
When I talk to my friends about it they make a way big of a deal out of it. It’s not like I feel violated or anything, more like just tired and annoyed. I’m probably just so used to it, even though I shouldn’t be, because it’s been going on for so long, longer that I can even remember. Sometimes it makes me feel like public property, like a shared family car that everyone wants to take for a ride. I can’t even imagine the countless amount of hours of my life that I lost to them.
But I guess it’s gotten better since I moved out, simply for the fact that I’m now out of their reach. Although that still doesn’t stop them from asking if they could borrow “me” for a while. Well, at least it’s easier to say “no” over the phone or via text. And as an added bonus, I don’t have to take the pill anymore. I never liked taking it as it messes with my hormones too much. I only took it as a safety precaution so that my family couldn’t do anything too stupid while they were inside of me.
Actually, it’s been a while since I visited my family, ’cause I’ve been so busy at work. I haven’t met all of them yet, since I arrived at my parent’s house very late last night. So far, I’ve only got to meet Mom and Dad. Maybe I’ll see Robby and Chloe at breakfast or whenever they decide to get up.
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Waking up from my daydream, I realized that I had been in the shower for way too long. I turned off the water, reached for my towel, and began drying myself off. I always hated that part, because it made me miss the bliss and warmth of the hot water. Afterwards I got out of the shower and wrapped the towel tightly around my body. Then I stepped into hallway, closed the door behind myself and—
Robert
“Hihi. Welcome home, ‘sis’”, I giggled in my sister’s voice. I quickly flitted off to her room and tightly locked the door behind me. I immediately dropped the towel that “I” was wearing, revealing my older sister’s body in all her naked glory. “Oh, ‘Katy’. You can’t imagine how much I missed ‘you’”, I said, giving “myself” a big hug, squishing my sister’s enormous chest in the process.
I sauntered over to Katy’s full-length mirror, enjoying the sway of her hips with every step. I thoroughly looked her over from head to toe. Her body was simply perfect. Especially her boobs. “Man, I just love your huge rack,“ I told my “sister” while giving her giant globes a firm squeeze. I just couldn’t help myself.
It’s not like I have the hots for my sister. To me, her mind and her body are two separate things. It’s just an unfortunate coincidence that she happened to be a reverse body hopper. I mean, I don’t have a thing for my younger sister or my mom. But then again, neither of them are reverse hoppers.
By now, I’ve hopped my sister so often, that to me it doesn’t really feel like I’m wearing her body. It just feels like I’m being me—a different me. I’ve hopped her since I was a child, even before I hit puberty. The first time was a total accident, and back then she found it cute and adorable, maybe because I was, and also because she was always pretty motherly towards me; she’s my older sister after all. But ever since we, especially I, hit puberty, she disliked me hopping her more and more.
I guess it was bad timing that I discovered her ability when I did, which is probably the reason why I am attracted to her body. In a way you could say that we developed alongside each other, even though she had a two-year headstart. I mean, not many people get to experience growing up both as a boy and a girl, and in more than one way I am thankful for that. Because of her I know what it feels like to become a woman and I think that made us closer than any other siblings. Over the years, I got to experience the swelling of her breasts and the widening of her hips, among other things. And I always loved how her body felt so much softer. Maybe I was secretly envious of that, or maybe I just enjoyed the feeling, I don’t even know.
Nevertheless, I’m a guy afterall and as a hormonal teenager I took advantage of that unique opportunity every way I could. My sister is the reason why, so far, I’ve only dated girls who are slightly older than me. I hopped her way more often than she even knows. There were times when I would sneak into her bedroom almost every. Thankfully, now that I’m older and in college, I have myself much better under control. Although it’s still hard to resist hopping her sometimes. But then again, that whole experience really taught me how to please a woman.
I’m ashamed to admit it, but a few weeks ago I even had sex with her when our little sister was wearing her. I just couldn’t help myself. The combination of my preexisting attraction to her body and my little sister coming on to me was simply too much for me not to give in. To this day, it was still the best sex I ever had. Sometimes, when the sex with a girlfriend gets a little boring, I imagine my sister in her place, which always perks me up again. One time I even accidentally said her name, which was the end of that relationship.
By now, “I” was already dripping wet as I had been rubbing “my” crotch and massaging “my” breasts the whole time I stood in front of the mirror. Feeling that my knees were getting weak, I hurried over and threw myself onto Katy’s bed. There I really went at it by reaching deep inside of my sister’s hole and groping her boobs and tweaking her nipples. I planned on giving her a warm welcome-home present, so I kept frantically sloshing two of her fingers in and out of her dripping wet cunt. After a few minutes of expert stimulation, I felt that her body was on the cusp of an orgasm and abruptly jumped out of her.
Katelyn
Like so many times before, I suddenly woke up in my room. I was lying on my bed, one hand clutching my breast, the other burried inside of me, the latter keept penetrating me, seemingly all on its own. Without a warning, a wave of pleasure hit me. A warm tingling bloomed between my legs and then ratiated outwards, coursing through my entire body. It all happened so fast, I couldn’t stop myself from letting out a long, high-pitched moan. The sudden and intense pleasure made me squirt so much, I soiled both my hand and my bedsheets.
“Welcome home, sis,” my brother laughed with a big, dirty grin plastered across his face. “Robby, you asshole!” I yelled at him. As I pulled my hand from my vagina, strings of the gooey slime that coated my fingers followed it. “Ew, you’re such a disgusting pig.” “Why? Don’t you like your ‘present’?” he asked while he made a run for the door. “You could’ve at least cleaned up after yourself,” I tried to call after him, but he had already fled my room. “Great. Now I have to take another shower.”
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All clean again, I joined my parents at the breakfast table. The table was overflowing with food as my Mom had really gone all out to celebrate my long-awaited return home. “Did you sleep well, honey?” my mother asked. “Oh, yes, fantastic. It felt really great to sleep in my old bed again,” I said while I loaded my plate with waffles and fruits. “What was all that ruckus about earlier?” my father grumbled. “Just Robby being the prick that he usually is.” “Hmpf. I guess I need to have a word with him later.”
“Katyyyyy!” I heard my little sister yell as she ran towards me. I hadn’t even managed to get the first bite of my breakfast when she already gave me a big hug. “Oh, you don’t know how much I missed you, sis!” “Did you really miss me or just my body?” I retorted. “Of course I missed you, silly. You’re my favorite sister.” “I’m your only sister,” I interjected. “Right. But since you brought it up: can I borrow ‘you’ today? Just for this morning, I promise. It’s been way too long since the last time.”
“Leave your sister alone, Chloe,” my Dad commanded. “You’ll make her feel not welcome in her own home. No wonder she is hardly here.” “Oh, she doesn’t mind, Daddy. Right sis?” she said, looking at me with her huge puppy dog eyes. “Yes, I do.” “Come on, Katy. Please? Just for a little bit!” “No,” I responded flatly. “Pleeeeeaaaase. I’ll even go to the gym for you. Remember how much you hate doing that?” “No, I don’t. You’re just making shit up. But, hmm, well. It’s been forever since I had any form of exercise. Work kept me really busy lately,” I pondered aloud. “Pretty please?” she said pouting her lips. “Ugh, fine, I guess,” I reletend. Chloe squealed in response.
“Sweety,” my Mom interjected timidly. “I’m sorry, this might be bad timing and come off as rude, but would you mind if tonight—”. “Yes, yes, it’s fine,” I interrupted her annoyed. “You can all ‘borrow’ my body. But get it out of your systems today, ’cause there will be no hopping tomorrow! I—”
Chloe
“Chloe!” my Mom scolded me. “You could have at least let your sister eat breakfast herself,”. “But Moooom,” I whined in my older sister’s voice. “You heard her. She said it was okay.” I wolfed down my sister’s breakfast as fast as I could and then raced up the stairs and into Katy’s room, leaving my speechless parents behind.
Finally behind closed doors I began rubbing my sister’s flat belly. I loved doing that so much, her pussy always immediately begins to tingle in response. Unfortunately, I wasn’t as blessed in the looks departement as my older sister was. As far back as I can remember I have been chubby. And with each year, it’s gotten worse. I can’t seem to lose weight, no matter what I try. Which makes me feel jealous of her sometimes, even though I know that it isn’t her fault.
In contrast to mine, her body is really slim and always feels so light and full of energy. It even makes going to the gym a lot of fun. In my own body it is just pure torture. And the reactions I get from other people are just so different. When I’m her, people seem to adore me, but when I’m myself, they seem to despise me. Even though I’m the same person; only my looks change.
That’s the main reason why I’ve been hopping her since I was little. Also, being in her body always made me feel so mature and grown-up. I always felt especially proud when I was wearing her big boobs. I loved showing them off and catching someone trying to secretly glance at them (or sometimes even outright staring). Back then they seemed enormous, especially compared to, what I considered, my own underdeveloped body. In hindsight, when I look at them now in old photos, they don’t seem that big. Sure, they were bigger than those of other girls her age, but still, nothing compared to what she sports now.
At that time, three years simply seemed like such a huge gap, and I guess I was simply too imature. She was always just way ahead of me and I felt I could never catch up to her, even though to an actual adult she might have still looked like a child and not that much different from me.
Seducing guys as my sister is my favorite thing to do, especially since they won’t even look at me in my own body. It always gives me such a thrill. Seeing them squirm and try to impress me, just for me to ultimately blow them off anyway is so incredibly delicious. If they only could see the fat, ugly girl they were actually hitting on—their faces would be priceless.
A couple of weeks ago I even got my own brother in the sack. I’m not attracted to him per se, but there is something about the challenge of seducing someone who shouldn’t even be looking at you like. It was just irresistible to me. The greatest challenge yet would be fucking my Dad, but he’s way to old and even thinking about that is just yuck.
In the end though, seducing my brother turned out to be not too difficult, since he had been hopping our sister all the time anyway. That was a bit of a let-down, but the sex was still amazing. He really knows his way around a woman’s body, or at least Katy’s.
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An hour later I arrived at the gym. I was wearing an outfit that I had bought just for my sister’s body. She refused to wear it herself since she always found it too revealing, but well, nothing she can do about it while I’m in charge. I mean, I have to admit, it’s basically just a sports bra that shows off her huge tits and exposes her toned midriff, paired with an incredibly tight pair of yoga pants. I especially love how far these pants are riding up inbetween her butt cheeks. Her ass is practically devouring them.
The moment I stepped into the building I had all he meatheads gawking at me. And who could blame them, when I’m always giving them a reason to, making sure to give them a show in my sister’s body. I guess they must have missed her as much as I did, since I used to be a regular in this gym before my sister moved out.
I started with my usual warm up routine. Every couple of minutes some jock would come up to me, trying to hit on me under the guise of “just giving advice”. I always initially flirt with them, even play a little dumb, only to then crush their feeble little egos by demonstrating how much more I knew about working out than them. Then I blow them off by making it crystal clear that their tiny, roided up dicks will never even get a whiff of my sister’s pussy. They always call me a bitch or a whore, or some other name, but eventually they all walk off deflated since they know that the security around here is pretty tight.
After I was finished with the “entrée”, I began serving the “main course”: squats to show off my sister’s firm ass (with a pair of tits on the side). Considering how much work I put into her booty over the years, I think by now half of it should be legally mine. Well, at least enough to call it “mine”.
By now, more and more guys came to approach me, sometimes even two of them at once. It was so hot seeing them fight over me. I even caught some guys filming me in the reflection of the of the mirror. Meanwhile, I kept teasing them and riling them up, all while having the plausible deniability of “working out“. Even though I was drenched in sweat from all the exertion, it wasn’t responsible for all the wetness on my body, at least not the one inbetween my legs.
I blew off the last guy buzzing around me and started putting away the weights in preparation to go home after a successful “workout”. As my gaze casually travelled around, not looking for anything in particular, my eyes suddenly honed in on what I then decided would become my “dessert”. I undid my ponytail, letting my sweat-drenched hair loose. While I sneaked up on my prey, I seductively swayed my hips, exuding confidence with ever step, and making “my” tits jiggle just the right amount. Over the years I had carefully cultivated and honed the skills to perfectly show of my sister’s body to the fullest. Unfortunately, these skills didn’t transfer to my own body, for obvious reasons.
I licked my luscious lips in anticipation as I came closer and closer to my target: a pale, scrawny, hairless nerd with thick glasses. You might wonder what a hot girl like “me” is doing approaching a “loser” like that. Well, let’s just say I have a thing for nerds. And also, I’m already very familiar with this particular geek. His name is Mark and he actually is in one of my college classes, but so far I didn’t have the confidence to approach him in my own body. In my sister’s body, on the other hand, I practically had an overabundance of it.
He was oblivious to my encroaching presence as he seemed preoccupied with his struggle to lift even the lightest of weights. When he realized that I was approaching him he looked befuddled and just stared at me like a deer in headlights.
“Hey, stud,” I said in a raspy whisper. “I’ve never seen you around here. Do you come here often?” “N-N-No,” he stammered. “I-I j-just started w-w-working out.” God, I love when people get nervous like that. It gets me all wet. Especially when they blush like that. “Oh, really? A hunk like you? Then where did you get these strong arms from?” I said while caressing his bicep—or rather, lack thereof. “A-Are you making fun of me?” “No, of course not,” I laughed, lightly slapping his feeble chest.
To get him on my good side again, I pulled out one of my favorite routines. I intentionally dropped something and then went, “Oopsie. I can really be such a klutz sometimes.” I made a show of it by clearly stepping in front of him, turning around, and then bending over.
For the cherry on top I pushed my ass against his crotch. The second our bodies touched, I could immediately tell how hard he was already. He tried to move away, but I just pushed even deeper into him. For good measure I began grinding against his member, eliciting a moan from him. When I got up I could see that his face was a deep crimson.
From afar I could hear a few men cursing and jeering, wondering why such a “hot chick” was grinding up against such a “pathetic little dweeb” like him. I could barely hide the devilish grin that appeared on “my” face. I stepped closer, pushed his tiny noodle of an arm inbetween my sister’s giant tits, and whispered in his ear, “it seems we have an audience. Would you prefer taking this somewhere private?” Unable to respond, all he could muster was to swallow hard. “I’ll take that as a yes,“ I said giving him a wink. Then I dragged him off to the locker rooms.
On the way over there he made a pathetic attempt at a protest, but even if he had tried to resist earnestly, I was still stronger than him. Finally arriving at our destination, I pushed him into one of the women’s changing rooms and locked the door behind us. This space was so tiny, we could almost feel our steamy breaths on each other’s skin. We were both reeking of sweat.
I pushed my chest out and looked at him expectantly, but he just stood there doing nothing. It was so cute how I had to coax him into everything. I took charge and, with determination, pulled up my sports bra, flopping out my sister’s huge rack. Yet, he still wouldn’t move. Even when I physically placed his hands onto my chest he acted like a dead fish.
“Come on. Play with them,” I commanded. “I want you to.” But still: nothing. Then I firmly grabbed his crotch, which finally seemed to wake him up. “I-I’m sorry. This is my first time,” he said bashfully while he began to clumsily fondle my boobs. It felt a lot like masturbating with your other hand. He was so adorable, which got me insanely hot.
While he kept playing with my Katy’s tits I began rubbing her pussy. At one point he even felt adventurous enough to tweak her nipples, which sparked a surprising amount of pleasure in my sister’s tender flesh. Man, Katy’s body simply feels incredible. If I could, I would never leave.
When I could feel “my” pussy quiver in demand for more, I knew that I was ready. I took his hand off my boobs, turned around, and then quickly pulled down my pants. Leaning against the wall, I stuck out my butt and presented him with my sister’s cleanly shaven folds. “Come on. Put it in. I’m hungry for your meat,” I said, my voice dripping with lust.
Unlike before, I didn’t have to tell him twice this time, which didn’t mean that he handled the situation more skillfully. He had trouble putting his dick in me, as he kept fumbling around, constantly missing the right hole. I giggled, seeing him all flustered like that. “Dammit! I-I’m sorry. T-This is my f-first time,” He kept saying that, which turned me on even more.
“Why don’t you let me handle that?” I said to him. Then I grabbed his shaft and guided it into the right entrance. I gasped as I felt him slowly pushing into me. This nerd was surprisingly well hung. Sure, I had way bigger dicks before, but compared to what you would expect from the rest of his physique, it was enormous.
It seemed that he was finally beginning to grow a pair. He started out very timidly, but with each thrust he gained more confidence, and rammed his prick into me ever more viciously. The more his ferocity increased, the louder I moaned. My ass cheeks jiggled every time his hips slapped against them. With the enormous speed that he was eventually going at, my whole body felt like it was vibrating.
“Yes! Yes! Harder!” I screamed in my sister's voice. I didn’t care if anyone heard us. In fact, I wanted them to hear us. I wanted everyone in this gym to know how much he satisfied me. Especially those troglodytes that kept hitting on me in vain. They should know that they are nothing compared to him.
He must have been close, because I felt him preparing for one big, final thrust. Unfortunately, his clumsiness hadn’t magically dissipated in the past few minutes, as he accidentally slipped out of me and, on his thrust forward, naturally missed the entrance. Instead, his dick slid up inbetween my cheeks and then burst, coating my entire back with his sperm. This last act of derpiness drove me wild and gifted me with an incredible climax. I almost collapsed, because my legs were shaking so much.
We were both breathing hard as we were coming down. When I recovered, I wordlessly pulled my pants up and put Katy’s boobs back into my sports bra. As a goodbye I gave him one final french kiss and said to him, “you were amazing. Let’s do this again some time.” I turned around and just left him standing there in disbelief, his mouth wide open, probably unable to comprehend what just had happened. I left the gym still with his masterpiece painted on my back for all to see.
Katelyn
I got my body back just in time for lunch. My sister returned my body clean and in perfect condition, although it was exhausted from the workout and my nether regions felt suspiciously funny. I was able to spend the afternoon as myself, because, luckily, Robby was occupied with some class project and, well, Dad doesn’t really want to hop me anyway. I spent my free time just lazing around and relaxing, recuperating from all the weeks of stress and whatever shenanigans Chloe was up to earlier. Unfortunately, time flew by way too quickly and soon it was time for my Mom to take over.
Susan
It was finally my turn to hop Katy, which got me nearly giddy. But in the back of my mind, I also felt bad that we all were so greedy when it came to her. She is rarely at home nowadays, and the few times she does come around, she barely has any time to be herself.
In the beginning, when we first found out about her powers, I wasn’t even interested in hopping her. I mean, why would I want to be a child again? And my own daughter at that? I simply did not care for that. But as she grew up and matured into a woman, I got a little curious.
The first time I hopped her was when she had just turned sixteen. She was about to go to a party with her friends when she came downstairs all dolled up. Seeing her like that got me really reminiscent, and I have to admit, a little envious as well. It made me nostalgic for my own youth and my “wilder” years, when I was out and about almost every weekend. So in a moment of weakness, when she wasn’t paying attention, I quickly jumped into her body and then went partying with her friends all night long. The next day she got really mad at me and made me make it up to her, because she had been looking forward to that night for a very long time.
But now she is a full-grown adult, with a job and her own apartement and everything. I still can’t believe how much Katy looks like myself, or at least how I did twenty-five years ago. Hopping her always feels like I’m stepping into a time machine. Goodbye saggy tits, adieu flabby love handles, and au revoir wrinkly skin. Everything about her was so taut and perky.
And the best is: her youthful body was just full of life and energy. Even my husband mentioned that when I’m in her body, there is always a certain glow about “her”. He said it’s like I’m radiating pure happiness.
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It was close to nine p.m. and I was almost ready to go out. I had already applied all of my makeup and done “my” hair. The only thing left was to squeeze my daughter’s nubile body into the tightest dress that she owned. When I finally pulled the straps over her shoulders, I found that her cleavage was spilling out. Did her boobs grow again? I thought she was done with that. I don’t think I was ever this big, at least no while also being this slim. Kids these days are unbelievable.
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The only thing I remember of that night is that I still had a strong buzz going when I arrived home. One strap of my dress had come off long ago, loosely dangling off my shoulder, and almost exposing my daughter’s nipple. I stumbled my way through the darkness as I didn’t want to turn the lights on so that I wouldn’t wake anyone. I even climbed the stairs on all fours just to stay as quiet as possible. Eventually I made my way to the master bedroom, where my husband was snoring in a deep slumber. I just crawled onto the bed and under the blanket, not even bothering to undress.
I don’t know whether it was the residual alcohol, all the guys at the club, or the fact that I was in my daughter’s youthful body, but I was incredibly horny. I tried playing with “myself” so I could finally fall asleep, but that didn’t help. Frustrated from the lack of release I carefully peeled back the blanket. I immediately went for my husbands bottoms, delicately fishing out his big, juicy cock. Even though I could hardly see anything, it looked so delicious and felt so plump in my daughter’s soft hands. Without hesitation I started sucking him off like I had so many times before, in a way that I knew would get him hard in seconds.
I managed to bob my head up and down his shaft only a few times, having hardly any time to enjoy his familiar taste, before he was good to go. I slowly errected myself, making sure not to shift my weight too abruptly. Luckily, my husband was still fast asleep. I swung one leg over, pulled my panties aside, and then lowered myself onto him. I gasped when I felt the tip of his thick member enter our daughter’s dripping wet pussy. I greatly enjoyed every inch of him slowly sliding up inside of me. I was practically impaling myself.
Feeling his girth part our daughter’s young, forbidden folds was simply too much for me: I accidentally let a small moan slip out. I immediately clasped my hands over my mouth and froze any and all of my movements. After a small, silent pause his snoring resumed and I continued on. Eventually I bottomed out and my husband now had his whole sex embedded inside of his own daughter.
I started gently gyrating my hips back and forth, “my” lips rubbing against him in the process. The resulting friction cheered me on to go faster. My husband’s snores soon turned into mumbling and then into moans. I practically devoured his cock, as I was now bouncing up and down on him, swallowing him whole with “my” slippery cunt. In my own body I couldn’t have done that. I’m simply too old now.
At some point he must have been at least half-awake, because he grabbed my hips and started thrusting as he moaned my name. I know it was probably too dark for him to see anything properly, but having him confuse our daughter’s body for myself really gave both my ego and my arousal a huge spike. In that moment I felt really mischievous, and also a little bit naughty, so to tease him I simply moaned, “Oh, yes, Daddy!” His eyes suddenly flew wide open and he sputtered in shock, as he only now realized that he was fucking his own daughter.
He tried to push me off, but he was severly weakend due to all of the pleasure I was giving him. “Wait, Katy! What are you doihhhnggg—oh my God—ooooohhhhhhh…,” he groaned as his creamy load exploded inside of “me”. Unfortunately, “my” body wasn’t satisfied yet, as I desperately kept riding dick, which became more and more limp with every second.
After a couple of deep breaths he seemed to have regained both a clear mind and his strength. He tried to wrestle me off of himself, causing me to lose balance. He lunged to catch me but I only managed to yelp as we both fell off the bed.
Walter
I suddenly found myself lying on something that was both hard and soft at the same time. My mind was hazy and I felt very disoriented. It all happened so fast: one moment I was having sex with my wife, but then suddenly my daughter seemed on top of me. Everything seemed like a dream and I still wasn’t sure whether I was actually awake. On top of that I felt not only drunk but also aroused, and there was something gooey inside of me. My mind was in total chaos.
Then I felt something stirring underneath me. “I’m sorry honey, but could get off of me?” I heard my wife say. I rolled off of her and onto the floor, still unsure what was going on. “Honey, is that you? What happened?” I groaned, my voice sounding off. I rolled over and onto my stomach so I could get up more easily. But somehow I rolled onto two giant pillows that were now squeezed between me and the floor. Then it finally dawned on me: I was in my daughter’s body.
“Wait … why am I in Katy’s body?” I wondered. It finally clicked. “Whatthehell? Whatwereyouthinking?” I slurred my words. “Sshhh, not so loud. You’ll wake the kids,” my wife said. “Susan, what is wrong with you? How could you have sex with me in Katy’s body. This is our daughter for crying out loud?” “I’m sorry,” my wife said with tears welling up in her eyes. “I couldn’t control myself. I was drunk.” “What if she finds out?” I panicked.
I tried standing up, but my knees were just too wobbly for that. “Let’s get you off the floor first,” my wife said as she helped me. My daughter’s underwear felt uncomfortably wet, as it seemed to have caught a large gob of my essence. As I leaned on my wife for support, I could even feel a little bit of it leaking down my leg. “Ugh, I feel disgusting,” I moaned.
My wife helped me get onto the bed and then joined me on the other side, sitting next to me. We kept arguing in hushed voices for about half an hour, debating back and forth how we would handle this situation, but we couldn’t agree on a solution. “I’m terribly sorry about what I did,” she whispered. “Let’s just go to sleep for now and talk more about this tomorrow, okay?” “Fine,” I grumbled. I turned on my side, away from my wife, while she gently stroked my head.
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Susan seemed to have fallen asleep rather quickly as I could hear her snoring not much later. I, on the other hand, had trouble finding rest: I was simply too upset. And besides, “my” loins were still burning with desire, probably because my wife was unable to finish her escapades. I tried fighting it the entire time, but in the end, I cracked. Despite the imense pleasure I got from “playing with myself”, I felt really terrible for violating my own daughter’s body. She should have never been touched like that by her own father.
As my fingers were hastily going in and out, I unwittingly kept pushing my very own seed deeper and deeper inside of her. I was writhing underneath the blanket, inside my daughter’s body, right next to my sleeping wife. That thought finally pushed me over the edge. Trying to stay as quietly as possible, I bit my lip and just “exhaled” deeply. I could feel all that built-up tension melt away. Having found release, my eyes lids suddenly became ver heavy and I was finally able to fall asleep.
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I woke up with a pounding headache the next morning. “Ugh, Susan, honey, I don’t think I feel so good,” I groaned. I flopped my arm over to search for my wife right next to me but ultimately I only found empty space. She must have gotten up already. Groggily I dragged myself out of bed. With my body feeling like a bag of bricks I stumbled all the way to the bathroom. Inside, I turned on the lights and then let out a big yawn while rubbing my eyes.
Looking in the mirror, I blinked and squinted until I was able to focus. But when I finally managed to have a clear look, I was in for a shock: in front of me stood my daughter in the worst state I had ever seen her in. Her hair was a total mess and her makeup smudgy. Both straps of her dress had come loose, exposing her chest. And the hem had curled up around her waist, revealing large, crusty stains on her underwear. The events of last night finally came back, hitting me like a freight train.
I had to grab the sink to balance myself, as I was suddenly hit by a spell of dizziness. My heart was racing and I started hyperventilating. Oh my God, what had we done? What had I done? Images of my and our indecent acts from last night kept flashing in my mind. I felt so disgusted, I almost started vomiting.
I tried forcing myself to calm down by first taking control of my breath. Inhale … exhale … in … and out … in … and out. Slowly I managed to calm down enough to gather some thoughts. The first thing I decided on was to take a shower and clean “myself” up. I did not want our daughter to wake up to her body in such a disgusting state and find out what we did to her like that.
I gulped when I realized that this meant I had to see her naked. I try not to look at her in a sexual way. She is my daughter after all. But it’s hard sometimes, because she looks just like her mother did twenty-five years ago. Last night was the first time ever that I had done something indecent with or inside of her body.
Eventually I had to bite the bullet and began undressing. I tried keeping my eyes shut, but that turned out to be too much of a hindrance. After I was done, I tried to give my daughter at least some amount of decency by crossing her legs and folding her arms over her chest. But unfortunately, this made me hyper-aware of her body parts, as “my” arms were squishing her breasts and “my” thighs kept squeezing her folds. My daughter’s face was now beet red and I looked away in embarrassment.
I realized, that if I was going to do this, then I had to do it quickly, because there was no apparent way around it and the longer it took the worse it would get. I practically jumped into the shower, closed the shower curtain, and turned on the water, all in one swift motion. The second the hot water hit my skin I could quite literally feel the dirt and grime wash away. Relaxation spread all over myself and for a moment I even forgot that I was in my daughter’s body.
Washing her hair and face was no problem, but when it was time for her boobs I felt like a pervert. Just calling them that—“boobs”—gave me a bit of an ick. But I felt even more perverted for enjoying it. I just couldn’t deny how big and soft they were. And how firm her butt was.
I “saved” the worst part for the end: cleaning her private parts. I really didn’t want to after what I did last night, but there was still quite a lot of dried up residue from left inside of her. Reluctantly I began entering my daughter, only one finger at first. As I kept scrubbing her inner walls, “it” responded by quivering and “thanking” me with a tingling sensation. I cursed myself for liking it.
The entire time I fought hard to ignore the “positive feedback” I was getting. But the longer it lasted and the deeper I went, the more I liked it. Eventually I had to stop fooling myself and admit that I wasn’t cleaning anymore, but instead I was getting off in my daughter’s body again. Soon after I peaked and cried out, my daughter’s voice filled with pleasure. I breathed hard as this time it wasn’t just the feeling of water that was washing all over her body.
When I finally came down from my high, I was left with regret and disgust. Even though my daughter’s body was now perfectly clean, my mind felt incredibly dirty.
Katelyn
When I got my body back the day after, my parents acted really fishy. They tried to pretend like nothing happened and were trying to play it off when I asked them directly, but I could cleary tell that something was up by the way they were avoiding eye contact. Reluctantly I returned home in the evening. During the weeks after that, my family kept hopping me less and less, even though I would visit home more often. The few times they did hop me they would do so at odd times and without even asking beforehand, almost like they had planned it.
Also, I noticed that my belly had grown a bit. At first I thought that I was gaining weight, but one weekend, when I was staying home, I realized that I hadn’t had my period in quite some time. The moment that realization hit me, the pieces began falling into place: my parents had hopped me every time I was supposed to be due. Through all the seemingly random hoppings I kind of lost track of my cycle, and generally paid less attention to it.
I immediately did a pregnancy test, which confirmed what I had feared: yes, I was pregnant. My first reaction was disbelief. But when the reality of it all sank in, I became overwhelmed to the point dizziness. After I had some time to digest the news, I became incredibly livid. Not only did they do something so horrendously stupid to me, they also tried to cover up their mistake, dodging any and all responsibility.
Fuming, I drove over to their house to confront them with the facts, getting a hefty speeding ticket on the way there. When I threw the results of my pregnancy test in their faces, they were dead silent. Like before they wouldn’t even look me in the eyes. And every time they did manage to open their pathetic mouths, they were just squirming. It was insanely frustrating. I just barely managed to get out of them that, yes, I was indeed pregnant with my father’s child. Speechless, I just stormed off. I went “no contact” with them and blocked them on all my devices, unsure when or if I ever would speak to them again.
As for the baby that is growing inside of me: I’m very likely not going to keep it. I mean, I wasn’t planning on becoming a mother so soon; I’m not even in a relationship right now. And I sure as hell didn’t plan on having my father’s child. Considering how I was treated in my life so far, I think that I don’t even want to have children—ever. I don’t want them to run the risk of becoming a reverse hopper like me; I wouldn’t want to inflict that on anyone.
Well, right now, the future seems really uncertain.
possession
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This Shudder one shot takes place between Shudder: The College Years and The Last Shapeshifter. I have tried to write all but the epilogue in a way that if you haven't read those you'll be able to understand what's going on.
It was Richard Johnson’s birthday, and he was a man on a mission. He was going to pick up a beautiful woman in a hotel bar using only his appearance and charm. He hadn’t needed to rely on those attributes in a very long time, but still managed to have a different woman in his bed every night. That was one of the perks to being married to a bodyhopper.
For the ten years that she’d been a bodyhopper, Nancy Johnson loved bringing home women that would entice her husband to fuck her senseless. If a pretty cashier caught his eye, or the cute teller at the bank, or a seductive college cheerleader, or one of the many local milfs, Nancy would make sure each of their bodies spent some very intimate time with her man. She’d even gone on a few trips to bring in some celebrities that he’d crushed on forever.
Nancy became bodyhopper during an experiment run by her twin children, Derek and Aubrey. They’d used an electrical charge to spark a gene inside of her. They knew it was there, because it ran in their family. Once activated, she gained the ability to pass her soul from one body to the next. In doing so, she gained access to that person’s mind and could pass for them with the greatest of ease. She had used it to seduce her husband, and eventually persuaded him to leave her aging body behind.
The couple were still very much in love, and when Nancy wasn’t fucking her husband’s brains out in a body typically younger than her previous one, they were enjoying hobbies and conversations that were akin to people who had been together for many years. They didn’t go out on many dates though since Nancy was usually in the body of a woman in her 20’s that could have been Richard’s granddaughter. It was here that the trouble started.
A week ago Nancy had gently teased her husband while in the guise of a cute, blonde 21 year old. She told him he’d never be able to pick up someone like her in real life because of the age gap. She thought it would turn him on. One of his favorite things was when she brought home a young woman and began calling him ‘Daddy.’ Perhaps because his 55th birthday was a week away, or the fact that they could no longer grow old together, he took it poorly.
“Age is just a number,” he snapped back. “I could go into a bar, any bar, and have a woman on my arm by the end of the night.”
Nancy had then made the catastrophic mistake of laughing at this remark. The idea of her husband with his wrinkles and gray hair going to a club and using his cheesy lines on a woman to take her back home was honestly absurd to her.
Richard’s pride took a hit, and he went to sleep on the couch that night, and no amount of cajoling or seduction could get him to return. This was also a blow to Nancy, because a bodyhopper continually craved sex. It seemed to be part of the gene. In instances like these, she’d had to seek other options. In that case, she’d taken the blonde home and fucked her boyfriend.
Nancy fucked a lot of boyfriends and husbands when she inevitably returned a host body. Richard knew this of these indiscretions, but also knew that as horny as he often was, his wife had an itch that he couldn’t always scratch, especially as he got older. He’d never resented her for it, because he’d been around a few bodyhoppers the last decade. Derek was one, and like Nancy, no longer had a body of his own. Aubrey was too, but had to keep her body hooked up to life support if she ever hopped someone.
Then there was the third bodyhopper they all knew. The one who had passed the gene on to so many people over the last few centuries. His name was Nevyn, and he’d almost ruined all of their lives.
Nevyn had possessed Nancy for a few months long ago, living with the Johnsons and teasing Derek relentlessly. But after Nevyn lost his bodyhopping power and became stuck in Derek’s body, he’d briefly aligned himself with the Johnsons in the pursuit of getting Derek his body back. They’d studied the gene and made several breakthroughs, and somewhere during this process, Nevyn felt sidelined, and eventually betrayed. He used what he knew to get his powers back by himself, which led to a close friend of the Johnsons named Bekka to lose her life, although the twins often spoke of her like she was still alive.
Nevyn’s actions spurred the twins along two different paths that ran parallel to each other. Aubrey continued unlocking the secrets of the bodyswapping gene to try and find a way to track it, while Derek pursued Nevyn by thinking like him, and looking for his telltale signatures in society.
A month ago, Derek had success, and had intercepted Nevyn. In a phone call, Derek had given his parents the good news that it was finally over.
“Nevyn’s dead. He knew I was chasing him and he ran into traffic. A second later he was hit by a bus. After all this time, that’s how it ends. It’s so strange. We finally all have our lives back.”
The Johnsons had all moved on as best they could, with Aubrey stating she was going back to college to get her doctorate, and Derek possibly moving back home.
But tonight, none of this was on Richard’s mind. Because tonight he was celebrating his birthday. Because of Nancy’s insensitive remarks, husband and wife made a wager. If he could pick up a woman at a local hotel bar and get her to go upstairs to a room for sex, she’d join them for a threesome.
“But what if she doesn’t want a threesome?” Richard had asked.
“You mean if I can’t convince her with my very impressive feminine wiles?” his wife had responded with a laugh. “Then I guess I’ll be doing some very fast hopping. Wouldn’t be the first time.”
This is why Richard now found himself up past his bedtime at a crowded hotel bar where the music was too loud. He’d much rather be at home, waiting to see who his wife was bringing him that night. But his pride was on the line.
Even though he’d been out of the dating game for a long time, he felt confident he’d be able to land a hottie and take her up to the hotel room they’d booked. He scanned the sea of people. It seemed full of possibilities. He locked eyes with a pretty raven haired woman behind the bar as she mixed a drink. She winked at him. Nancy had chosen this bartender as her vantage point to watch the proceeding.
She totally wanted him to win, which is why she pointed towards a small circular table where a couple of young women sat, chatting and giggling away. After observing them for a few seconds, he shot an upturned eyebrow back at Nancy. He knew these women were at least 21 years of age, but probably not a day older. They still had their whole lives ahead of them. He was just the man that could teach them a thing or two. Richard strode over confidently, believing that this would be over quickly, he’d be fucking one or both of them within the hour, and could go to sleep.
He assessed them as he got closer. The girl to his left was a curly haired brunette with a dazzling smile. She wore a short black dress, but didn’t have a lot going on in the chest department. That was okay. He was always partial to brunettes. They reminded him of his wife and his daughter Aubrey, although they had both been stacked.
To her right was a shoulder length blonde who was offering a generous amount of cleavage to all passersby in a low red blouse with lipstick that matched. His eyes lingered on her exposed skin, and it distracted him so much that he forgot to say anything upon his arrival.
“Can we…help you with something old man?” the blonde said with a pitying smirk.
“He looks lost,” the brunette giggled. “It seems like he’s trying to find directions to your tits.”
“Don’t even!” the blonde squealed, and whacked the brunette on the shoulder playfully. “I’m sure this grandpa is harmless.”
“Or he’s a dirty old man,” the brunette clapped back. “He’s gotta be, right? I mean he came over to our table. To what? Hit on us?” She crossed her legs and looked up at him as if she’d caught him doing something scandalous. “Do you even know how old we are, mister?”
“Um, uh, 21?” Richard replied as he tried to recover from their verbal assault.
“I am,” the blonde said, “But Kinzie here is only 19.”
“How did you…” Richard started to ask.
But the girl identified as Kinzie interjected. “Fake ID grandpa. What? They didn’t have those back in your day?”
“I don’t think they had that kind of technology back then,” the blonde added.
“Just had the wheel and fire, right gramps?”
“I am not that old!” Richard fumed.
“Yeah? How old are you then?” Kinzie asked with a raised eyebrow as she haughtily picked up her drink to take a sip.
“Old enough to…uh…teach you a few things,” Richard said as he tried to turn this interaction around.
This elicited a cringe response on both their faces that ended when they looked at each other and burst into a giggle fit.
The blonde’s eyes drifted down to Richard’s crotch, then back up to meet his. “Can you even get it up? I hear that can be a real problem for senior citizens.”
“I’m sure he can, Mckayla, withe the help of a pill!”
The giggle fit resumed in earnest, and Richard found himself wanting to retreat, from this table, from the premises from civilization. This had been a horrible idea.
Suddenly the bartender was at his side carrying a tray that had three drinks in martini glasses on it. “Here’s your drink sir, and how nice of you to buy a round for these two lovely ladies.”
“Ugh,” Kinzie said with an eye roll. “Well, a free drink’s a free drink.
She reached for it, but Mckayla hesitated and asked the bartender, “He didn’t pay you to slip something into it, did he?”
The bartender’s pretty face faltered as if she’d been slapped. But then she set her jaw, and said tightly, “I can assure you that he’d never have to do anything of the sort. Not when he has me.”
As Kinzie’s fingers curled around the thin stem of a glass, the bartender’s fingers brushed against her for the briefest of moments in a way that so often happens while passing something from one person to the next. A fleeting second of contact that feels both innocuous and yet strangely intimate. It is usually a moment that is here, then gone, but this time, it left a lingering effect in the form of a shudder that began in Kinzie’s hand.
“Excuse me?” Mckayla asked loudly in response to what the bartender had just said. But she got no response, because the bartender’s gaze had gone slack.
“Um, Mckayla, I think maybe I’ve had too much to drink,” Kinzie said as she looked at the tremor rapidly spreading up her arm.
Mckayla didn’t look at her friend but continued to study the bartender. It was like she was asleep, but her eyes were open. She was just standing as still as a statue holding the tray. “You’ve only had one Kinzie. I swear, you’re such a lightweight. You really should be building up more of a tolerance for the parties at college.”
“No, really, I…I think I want to go…” but the rest of what she might have said was lost as her mind was no longer her own.
“Just kidding!” Kinzie suddenly squealed. “I feel fine! In fact, I think we should go to this handsome guy’s room. You got a room, don’t ya mister?”
Mckayla’s jaw dropped as she turned her head away from the bartender towards her friend. “Are you fucking kidding me girl? You’ve got to be insane if you think that I’m going anywhere with grandpa here just cause he got us a free-”
But she stopped mid sentence as her friend grabbed her wrist, and it too began to shudder.
“What the hell? Why’s my arm fucking doing that? Am I having a stroke or some-”
But then Mckayla went quiet for a second before looking up at the bartender and taking the drink she’d previously insinuated was spiked. “Thank you, ma’am. Now go back and attend to your duties.”
“Yes,” the pretty bartender said in a flat tone before she turned away and went back behind the bar.
“So, stud,” Mackayla said as she eyed Richard up and down as if he were a snack. “I believe you were about to sit down and talk us two lovely ladies into having a threesome with you?” She set her glass down on the table and touched her friend’s hand.
Shudder.
A second later Kinzie said, “Yeah. We’d totally say yes. You can take us upstairs to your room and fuck us stupid. We’re both really nimble. We were both cheerleaders!” She touched Mckayla’s hand.
Shudder.
“I bet you like cheerleaders, don’t ya?” Mckayla said with a wink. “Especially ones that like kissing each other.” She looked at her friend and said, “Kiss me passionately.”
“Yes,” Kinzie said, and then their lips were together as they kissed each other deeply.
Shudder.
“So, what do you say?” Kinzie asked with her thousand watt smile.
Shudder.
“Please take us horny sluts up to your room and be our daddy for the night.”
This sudden reversal of fortune seemed to darken Richard’s mood. “Dammit Nancy! The deal was I do this on my own!”
Several people glanced at the tiny outburst from the older gentleman standing in front of the two young women. He seemed to be reprimanding them for something. Richard seemed to understand he’d made a scene, and smiled bashfully. A few seconds later, everyone went back to their drinks and conversations.
“I’m sorry, Richard,” Nancy’s voice came quietly out of Mckayla’s mouth. “It’s just, I heard these cunts being horrible to you and I thought we could teach them a lesson.” She put a hand on his leg and began sliding it upwards. “Together.”
Mckayla’s voice was back then. “Please mister. Please fuck some manners into us. Kinzie and I would learn so much from you.” She touched her friend on the arm.
Shudder.
“Yeah. Teach us Daddy,” Kinzie whined. “We’ll be good girls for you. We’ll even let you-”
“Enough,” Richard said quietly but firmly. “Anyone I take upstairs tonight will come because they want to. So…get out of these girls and let me get back to finding that person.”
“Fine!” Nancy said with an eye roll. “You still interested in teaching them a lesson though?”
“What did you have in mind?”
Nancy waved over the bartender who approached them quickly. Her eyes seemed less vacant than before, but there was still a bit of a haze there. Nancy casually brushed the back of Kinzie’s hand against the bartender, who shuddered.
“Well,” the bartender said, and she sounded as if she were recommending a drink. “Since you two are such good friends, you’re going to get each other off. I want you to go into the ladies room and strip naked, then toss your clothes out the window in there. Then go into a stall and begin licking and fingering each other. Try to make each other cum as fast as you can.”
“Yes,” they both said in perfect unison. They immediately stood, and with robotic grace walked to the ladies room.
“Well fuck me,” Richard said. “Now I want to go to the ladies room.”
“You had your chance,” Nancy said with a smirk. “Although I did memorize Mckayla’s address if you ever want me to go pay her a visit.”
A huge grin crept over Richard’s face. “I love you.”
“I know. Now get back on the horse and go get ‘em tiger. I’ll be over there watching. Best of luck. I do want you to have a happy birthday!”
“I think I’ll go hit on someone near the ladies room.”
“You do that, dear,” she said with a laugh, then went back to resume bartending.
Richard set off in the direction the two girls had gone. He passed by several people that looked like couples or were just trying to relax by themselves. He considered hitting on a few of them, but crossed off the ones that looked under 26. No more early twentysomethings. Too obnoxious and rude. He’d go aim a bit higher, which, he didn’t want to admit, would probably up his chances of success.
He decided on a professionally dressed woman in a light blue blouse and dark skirt sitting by herself. She wore her sandy blonde hair in a bun. She had glasses, and was staring intently at a laptop. If he struck out with her, she’d probably let him down gently unlike those first two had. He wondered if they were in the stall by now, their naked bodies pressed together invading each other’s holes with their tongues and fingers in a desperate attempt to make the other cum.
“This seat taken?” he asked with what he believed to be a suave demeanor.
“Huh, what?” the woman said, not bothering to look at him. “No? You can take it if you want.”
Richard was confused for a second, then understood. “No, I don’t need it for another table. I wanted to sit with you.”
This caused her to look up at him like he’d just said something very stupid. “Why?”
“Because…” he said, as he tried to think of something clever. He was beginning to wonder if he’d ever actually been clever in his life. “Because I wanted to get to know the prettiest woman in this bar.”
Her eyebrow raised and she gave him a quick up and down assessment. Then her lips pursed together like she’d tasted something sour. “Um…no. Thank you.”
Richard had been in sales for a long time, and never accepted the first no. Sometimes not the second. He could do this. He just needed a chance to show her what a catch he was. “I really think you’ll like me if you get to know me.”
“Probably not,” she said dismissively. “Because I tend not to like married men who hit on other women.”
This comment took Richard aback. “What? Why would you think I’m-”
“Wedding ring, dipshit,” the woman said, pointing at his left hand.
Despite the fact that Nancy’s actual body had been declared dead and they’d had a funeral and everything, to Richard, and to Nancy, she was very much alive. Of course he wore his ring. He’d never even thought about taking it off until this very second. Now he realized how foolish it had been to wear it while trying to pick up women in a bar. Then he had an idea.
“Oh, um…yeah, I’m…a widower. Just can’t bear to take it off.”
The woman’s eyes went wide and her face went very red. She began fidgeting with her hands as she apologetically blurted out, “Oh shit! I’m so sorry. I should not have…uh, has she been gone long? I mean…I didn’t mean to ask something so personal! I feel so bad! I honestly don’t know what to say.”
“How about you just let me buy you a drink and we get to know each other,” Richard offered as his confidence level soared to new heights. He glanced towards his wife behind the bar and signaled that he had someone on the hook.
The woman grimaced and said, “It’s really flattering, but…I have a deadline and-”
Richard interrupted. “It was a few years back when I lost her, but it still feels like yesterday. She was the love of my life, you know. Tonight was the first night I worked up the courage to put myself back out there.”
The woman’s expression became one of deepest sympathy and she closed her laptop. “I…I suppose one drink wouldn’t hurt. Uh…I’m Natalie.”
“Yes!” Richard exclaimed, and he couldn’t help but give a little fist pump. “That’ll show her.”
“Show who?”
Without thinking he said, “My wife. She didn’t think I could still get a woman to give me the time of…” He trailed off as he recognized his mistake.
The woman’s face shifted into one of loathing. “Wait! Was that whole dead wife thing a line?”
“No, I-”
“You’re disgusting. Go find someone else to be sleazy to,” she said with a wave of her hand.
“So close,” Richard said as he stood. Back to square one. He was a few steps away when a hand grabbed his shoulder and spun him around.
“Fine! Natalie said with a bit of contempt still etched on her face. “You wanna fool around, I could use a destresser. Let’s go.”
Richard couldn’t believe his luck! “I have a room we can-”
“I know someplace closer,” she said, and still clasping his hand, she drug him to the ladies room and pushed open the door.
They both stopped at the sight of two naked women who appeared to be having a wild night. Their hair was a mess and their lipstick was smeared. They were both attempting to cover their bodies with paper towels, but it was not working very well. At the sight of the woman, Kinzie said, “Ohmygosh can you please help us? We need some clothes. Can you-”
“Ah!” Mckayla yelled. “There’s a man with her!”
She made a better attempt to cover her boobs, but her crotch was very much exposed. Richard knew where some of Kinzie’s lipstick went, because some remnants of her shade were between Mckayla’s legs.
“It’s the old guy from before!” Kinzie hissed, and they both darted into a stall.
“Looks like this one has other stuff going on,” Natalie quipped, and pulled Richard out and into the men’s. She led him to a stall, pushed him inside and said, “Take off your pants.”
Richard’s fingers flew to his crotch where they momentarily seemed to forget how to unbuckle a belt.
“Let me help,” Natalie said with an eye roll. She sank to her knees and was much more adept at getting Richard’s pants off than he seemed to be. She made no pretense of why they were there as she yanked down his underwear. She took his cock in her hand, holding it up to be level with her face. Then she leaned forward and took him in her mouth.
“Oh fuck! That was fast!” he said. His mojo was back! It might not have worked the way he’d planned, but a win was still a-
He felt it then. A telltale shudder. He’d felt it many, many times while he and his wife made love. A shudder was the telltale sign of a bodyhopper moving into a new host. But it continued to happen intermittently while the hopper remained inside. It was a brief struggle of one soul dominating the other. It was like a reflex, and could even be done while a hopper slept, but it was also very noticeable, especially for someone who had been around hoppers as much as Richard.
“Seriously Nancy! Again!” he said as he pushed Natalie’s head back. He’d really been enjoying himself too, but his dick was suddenly deflating as he realized he’d been duped.
The woman’s face looked up at him sheepishly. “I thought I could get you off real quick before I shuddered and then you’d have a win and you could take me upstairs and fuck.”
Richard frowned, pissed that he was still 0 for 2. “Well, you almost got me there. Another 20 seconds of your world class dick sucking and I would have busted all over your face.”
She reached up and stroked his cock, which twitched hopefully in her hand. “You still could, darling. Seriously. I’m so horny in this body. I’d love it if you took me right here in this stall.”
Richard had to hand it to his wife. She could bring out the sluttiest part of any woman. He could take her right here and she’d never know because of how Nancy could alter her memories. But he shook his head and helped her to her feet.
“Wait! When did you even hop her?” he asked as he pulled his pants up.
She gave a small smile. “I’d just arrived to take your drink order when you got up to leave her table. A second later I was her, and pulled you into the bathroom so you wouldn’t notice the bartender right behind us.”
“That was so funny seeing those two girls in the bathroom.”
“That’s why I took you in there first. Did you see the lipstick on the one girl’s hoo ha?”
“Oh yeah.”
The couple burst out laughing, but then Richard said, “Okay, I’m going back out there. No help this time, understood?”
Nancy slumped Natalie’s shoulders. “I don’t think you know how much I want you to succeed, dear. I really need it right now. I might just rub one out in the stall real quick when you leave. Unless you want to watch?” She began to unbutton her blouse while she bit her lower lip. “You could still help this uptight business woman unwind?”
Richard left in a hurry before his wife could tempt him further. What did he do to deserve such a seductive creature?
As he left the restroom, he eyed the occupants of the bar with new determination. Third time’s the charm. He’d just…pick someone closer to his age. Not his preferred choice, but a gal with experience could certainly bring a lot to the table, or in this case, the bedroom. He pocketed his wedding ring as he circled the perimeter, finally coming back near the entrance where other hotel guests passed close by.
It was there he saw someone he’d passed by earlier. A woman in her early 40’s that he hadn’t really considered. She was quite striking though with her long auburn hair and legs that went on for miles. Richard thought she somewhat resembled Nancy in the face. And also the boobs. The woman was stacked.
She had a duffel bag on the chair next to her. Richard put a hand on the handle of the bag and said, “Mind if I move this so I can have a seat?” As he started to lift it, it began to shake. And growl.
The woman’s eyebrows shot up and she protectively reached for it and pulled it onto her lap. “Have a seat if you must, but Daisy doesn’t like to be jostled unnecessarily.”
Out of the top of the bag popped the face of an adorable Yorkshire terrier. Her furry brown face looked up into his and gave a small yip.
“Good girl,” the woman said with a small smile as she pulled the terrier out of the bag and put her on her lap. “She can be a very good judge of character. You must be a bad man.” The terrier growled at him.
Richard put his hands up and chuckled, then said to the small dog, “I can assure you I meant no harm little lady.” He held out a hand for her to sniff. The terrier did, and then gave his palm a lick.
The woman assessed him, and by her expression, she liked what she saw. “Perhaps you’re not terrible. Go ahead and have a seat.”
Richard did so. “I didn’t know you could have dogs in here.”
“You probably can’t,” the woman said with an air of indifference. “But she’s my emotional support animal. That’s what I tell everyone anyways.”
This annoyed Richard, but he tried hard to focus on her figure, something which the woman didn’t seem to mind him eyeing. “So, what’s your sign?”
This elicited a shrill laugh from the woman. “I haven’t heard that one in awhile.”
“I really need to get some new material.”
“Do you find yourself coming out to hotel bars often enough that you need to constantly refresh it?”
“Er, no,” Richard said. “I usually just stick with the basics. Like, hi, I’m Richard, and you are a very beautiful woman that I would like to get to know better.”
She cocked her head at him, studying him closely like a cat might before pouncing on a mouse, then said, “That was a much better line. I’m Crystal. What would you like to know?”
The two hit it off, and Richard found Crystal’s banter refreshing. She didn’t look at him like he was ancient, or pitied him in any way. Best of all though, she hadn’t shuddered once.
They were mid conversation discussing childhood pets when the bartender came up and asked, “Can I get you two anything?”
“I’ll take a bourbon,” Richard said, not taking his eyes away from Crystal.
“Nothing for me,” Crystal said as she tapped a glass she’d barely touched.
They both just stared at each other, mirroring a smile that belied a bubbling chemistry under the surface.
The spell was momentarily broken by the sound of the bartender clearing her throat. “Will you be taking that bourbon up to your room…sir?”
Richard looked up at the raven haired bartender. “In a bit. We’re in no rush.”
The bartender’s eyes narrowed, and her smile became tight lipped. “Of course…sir. By all means, take your time.”
As she walked away, she touched the shoulder of a woman passing by, who shuddered. That woman whispered something into the bartender’s ear, who went about her duties a moment later.
Richard was oblivious to this. He was enjoying the massive ego boost Crystal was giving him. He found himself opening up to her, sharing things like it was a first date. He was used to seeing different women all the time, but the conversation was always the same, because his wife knew everything about him. This was nice, so much so that he didn’t mind talking and throwing back a few. He was slightly worried that he’d pissed Nancy off, because she acted like she didn’t know him whenever she brought the drinks.
“Well, this has been lovely,” Crystal finally said. “But I should be going.”
“Oh, um, I was wondering if you wanted to…” Richard started, not entirely sure how to seal the deal.
She grinned at him and finished the proposition for him. “If I wanted to come up to your room and we have casual sex like grown adults?”
“Uh…” Richard stammered. “Y-yeah. I guess…that.”
“You’re very cute when you’re flustered.”
“Well if you’d like to see me flustered you should see me try to take my pants off when I’m really excited.”
She laughed. “I feel like I’m missing something.”
“Sorry, it’s just been awhile since I…”
“Mommy, mommy, she’s got a dog!”
A boy about five or six walking by the hotel bar area with his mom had broken free of her hand and ran to their table. The boy put his hand on the dog’s fur, and gave it a hard pet, causing the dog to shake at the sudden attention.
“Mason!” his mom snapped as she grabbed the boy’s arm and pulled him back. “We ask permission before touching someone’s pet. It might have bit you. I’m so sorry,” she said to Crystal as she backpedaled out of the bar with her son.
“No harm done,” Crystal said graciously.
“Mason, use your feet,” the mom admonished. “I feel like I’m dragging you out of here.”
When they were out of earshot, Crystal said, “Kids. They never can resist a cute dog like Daisy.” She gave her pet a loving pat. The dog looked at Richard and yipped playfully. Then she kept yipping.
“Well, if you’re going to start making all that noise, I probably should get you up to a room,” she said. “And it seems like we have options,” she said looking slyly at Richard. “Yours or mine?”
They both laughed and got up from the table. Richard let Crystal take the lead so he could wave at the pretty bartender, who didn’t seem to understand why he was pointing at Crystal and giving her the thumbs up. The bartender just smiled awkwardly back at him and returned the thumbs up.
Richard was glad his wife was letting him get a head start, knowing she’d show up soon. He and Crystal got in the elevator and faced the closing doors. He pressed the button to his floor, and as he did, he didn’t notice the dog’s nose reaching up out of the bag to press against Crystal’s hip. Nor did he see Crystal shudder a moment later.
“Let’s go to mine actually,” she said. “It’s on the top floor. The penthouse suite. Great view.”
“Um…” Richard said, unsure of what to do. It was okay. He could just call down and let his wife know they’d received an upgrade. “Sure thing.”
As soon as the doors were shut, her mouth was on his. He responded in kind, and their hands roamed freely about each other. The dog was oddly silent despite being jostled.
They practically fell out into the empty hallway when the doors opened. They were both panting and pulling at each other’s clothes as they stumbled their way to an ornate door. Crystal pulled out a card from a side pocket of Daisy’s carrier, and pressed it to an electronic device next to the door. The light went green, and the sound of a click could be heard. Crystal pushed her way in, and Richard stepped into a room that was much bigger than the one he thought he’d be sleeping in. There was an entire living room, kitchen, and bedroom area. And as he walked further in, he saw that Crystal hadn’t been kidding. There was an amazing view. He strode to the far side of the living room where a sliding glass door led out to a balcony. He opened it, and stepped out into the night. He was ten stories up, with the city a twinkling sea of lights below him.
“If you’d rather stay out there you can,” a sultry voice called from behind. “But I think you’ll find the view in here much more interesting.”
Richard turned and found that yes, the view was much better inside this penthouse suite. Crystal hand dispensed with her dress, and was standing in a black lingerie set that she must have been wearing underneath in the off chance she got lucky. With a body like hers though, she didn’t need luck. He was just glad he’d been the one she’d decided to take to bed, but he also chalked some of that up to his own good looks and charm.
He came over to her and pulled her into a kiss. He’d expected it to feel different kissing someone that his wife wasn’t possessing. New. Foreign. But…there was a surprising familiarity to it. New mouth, new tongue, but the way their mouths met was how he’d kissed Nancy for so many years.
An annoying sound went off in Crystal’s purse that she’d tossed onto the bed. It disrupted their entwined tongues. “Sorry,” Crystal said as she scooped her purse up. “That’s the alarm on my phone. I need to go…take my medication. High blood pressure.”
“Totally get it,” Richard started to say as Crystal quickly disappeared into the bathroom a few feet away. “I have high cholesterol.” He wasn’t sure if she’d heard all of that, because she’d slammed the door so fast.
What seemed like just a few seconds later though, she came out again. And her hands were behind her back.
“You found those pills fast,” he said. “It takes my wife a long time to dig anything out of her purse.” He went red immediately, as he realized his little slip of the tongue.
“Are you married, Richard?” she asked sweetly as the tension in her bra gave way as she released the clasp. She began to lower it, giving him a great view of her impressive breasts.
“Uh…y-yes,” he said.
“But you’re here with me?” she said in a teasing manner. “And you’re going to fuck me, aren’t you.” She hadn’t said it as a question, but as a fact.
Richard nodded quickly. “I am!”
“Does your wife know you’re here?” Crystal asked as her fingers began to unbutton his shirt.
“Yes, well, no, not here. She knows I’m in the hotel. It’s a long story, you see, it’s my birthday. She said I could have a threesome if I could pick up a woman at the bar.”
Crystal laughed softly. “Oh. So I’m expected to invite someone else up to my suite am I? Is your wife attractive?”
Richard thought that was a rather funny question since Nancy could be anyone she pleased. Currently, she was in that very pretty bartender. “Yeah, she’s…very attractive,” he said earnestly as he pulled out his phone to call the bar. “I can let her we’re in your suite so she can come up and-”
Crystal grabbed the phone from his hand and threw it with a smile onto the bed. “Not just yet. I want you to myself for a little bit. That okay?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said.
She winked at him as she unzipped his pants. “That was the right answer.” And then she was dropping to her knees, pulling his pants down as she went. Her fingers deftly moved to the hem of his boxers, which came down just as fast. “My, my!” she said as Richard’s sizeable erection popped out. She licked her lips at the sight of it. “Someone is very excited to see me.”
“Oh he is,” Richard chuckled. “So how do you want to-” was as far as he got before he gave a happy little strangled moan, because Crystal had taken him in her mouth. And the way she used her tongue, Richard knew this was not her first rodeo. His stamina had increased with age, probably because he was getting laid about every night from a different beautiful woman. But the way Crystal was sucking him, he wasn’t going to last long.
He tried to signal this by tapping her on the head, and then by sputtering a very coherent, “Um...”
But she kept going, getting him right up to the edge, and then…stopped just as quickly as she’d started. She’d seemed to know where his line was, and had backed off in the nick of time.
“Sorry,” she said as she stood and delicately wiped her mouth. “I just had to see if it tasted as good as it looked.”
Richard was trying to catch his breath as he asked, “And?”
“It was even better,” she giggled. Then she led him to the bed, and pushed him onto it. “What’s your favorite position, Richard?” she asked.
“Uh, basically just…”
“Whatever your wife wants?” Crystal finished for him. “You must be happily married,” she added with a wink. “Well, I like to be on top.”
“That works for me,” Richard said happily as he flopped his body against the bed.
Crystal started to crawl on top of him with a seductive smile, when her phone went off again. She blew a strand of hair out of her face as she got up and looked in annoyance in the direction of her phone. “Sorry. Just let me go take care of something real quick.”
“Whatever you need to do,” Richard said. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“I’m counting on it,” she said with a smile as she again slipped quickly into the bathroom.
Richard spied the hotel phone next to the bed, and reached for it.
“How can I help you?” a polite voice asked on the other end.
“Bar please?”
“Certainly.”
A second later the familiar voice of the bartender picked up. “Hello. What drink order would you like sent to your-”
Richard cut her off. “Nancy, it’s me. I’m in the penthouse suite. Come join us as soon as you can.” He heard the turning of the bathroom handle and said, “Love you!”
“Excuse me?” came the voice on the other end, but the receiver was already on its way forcibly back to its cradle.
“Ordering room service?” Crystal asked coyly as she reentered the room. She walked nimbly towards him with searching eyes.
“Huh? Oh, uh, yeah. Hope that’s okay?” Richard noticed she’d left her phone in the bathroom. Hopefully that was the last interruption.
“As long as you charged it to my room,” she said demurely. “Now, where were we? Oh yes. I think I was about to get on top of you and ride your dick until you cum inside my wet pussy.”
Richard stretched out and smiled. “Well, if you must.”
Crystal’s eyes flashed, and she looked almost predatory as she made her way onto the bed. She eyed his cock like it was a prize that was just there for her. She curled her fingers around it and gave it a gentle squeeze. It throbbed in appreciation. She leaned forward and pressed her large breasts against his chest. She made eye contact with him while she used the hand gripping his shaft to guide it in. Her mouth formed an ‘O’ the second he parted her. She stayed there for a moment, with just his tip in, then she rocked her hips forward, and he was suddenly deep inside her.
Richard let out the breath he hadn’t known he was holding when he felt the tip go in. Nancy always watched him very closely whenever he went into new pussy that she’d brought home. Crystal continued watching him closely too.
“So big,” she cooed. “So hard. So…familiar,” she said with a sly smile.
“Familiar?” he asked, his chest rising and falling from the way she was grinding her hips. This woman was something else. She really knew how to use her body.
In lieu of an answer, she leaned down again and kissed him passionately. She flexed her pussy as their tongues danced together.
Richard loved everything this woman was doing. Clearly she had a lot of experience, but what she said, and how she kissed him. It was so like Nancy would kiss him. He tried to ask her about it, but her mouth continued to cover his, almost as if she didn’t want him to talk yet. His hands came up to her face but she intercepted them and pushed them back against the bed, pinning him.
At last Crystal ended the kiss and raised her face up just enough so their noses touched. “Just like old times, Richard,” she purred.
And then her face moved rapidly in front of him, as her whole body gave way to a violent shudder.
Richard’s temper flared and he tried to push up, but Crystal held him down. “Nancy, what the hell! I wanted to do this on my own!”
A wicked smile spread across Crystal’s face as she continued to fuck him very slowly. “Afraid you’re mistaken, Richard. I’m not your wife. But I’m not Crystal either.”
_____________________________________________________________________
One hour earlier.
Nancy hadn’t planned on Richard’s foray back into the dating pool taking this long. She had needs! He knew this. And birthday or no, she needed to scratch that itch. The need to wrap her legs around him had increased exponentially as she watched him successfully hit it off with an attractive middle aged woman.
It was not lost on Nancy that Crystal somewhat resembled her as she had been a decade ago. She wished she could hop her. Find out her story real quick and make sure she wasn’t wasting her husband’s time. But that’d have to wait till later. She saw that every second Crystal spent with Richard was doing wonders for his self esteem. And it was also making Nancy jealous, something she had not felt in some time. She kind of liked it, because watching her husband interact from afar with a beautiful woman that she was not possessing spiked her lust. She wanted them to go upstairs now! But since they were taking their sweet time, Nancy decided to quell some of her desire by popping out for a quickie as someone else.
In a hotel, this prospect was incredibly easy. She grabbed a bottle of champagne and went to the front desk. She hopped the man behind a computer, looked up who was in a honeymoon suite, hopped back into the bartender, and went to one of the corresponding rooms.
There was a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign hanging from the door handle of the room she’d chosen. Nancy knocked anyway. A loud curse was heard along with the sound of giggles. A half a minute later, an attractive young man opened the door wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. He looked flushed and agitated.
“We put the sign on the door,” he spluttered.
“So sorry,” Nancy said as she held out the bottle of champagne. “We forgot to give this to you at the front desk as a way of congratulations.”
The man’s demeanor changed as he saw the expensive looking bottle. He reached out to take it. “Well…thanks I-”
But the words ceased as his fingers brushed the bartender’s, and a shudder spread rapidly through him. He smiled back at the bartender a moment later. “Go resume your duties. This shouldn’t take long.”
“Yes,” the bartender said vacantly, and left.
Nancy shut the door, and let the towel drop. She looked down at a semi flaccid penis that was rapidly reclaiming its hardened status. “Not bad. Now let’s see who’s the lucky recipient of this fine specimen.”
She went deeper into the room and found a gorgeous blonde wearing nothing but a smile. Nancy usually preferred being in a female during sex, but she figured what the hell. She’d show this bride a good time on her wedding night. She climbed confidently onto the bed and spread the woman’s legs.
“Oh!” she gasped. “Jackson you, you seem…more sure of yourself all of a sudden!”
Nancy smiled down at the pretty girl. She’d be letting Jackson keep his memory of what was about to transpire. “I’m just so excited to do this with you for the first time, Lilly.” And with that, Nancy thrust into her, and did her very best to last longer than five minutes. She made it to six, but redeemed herself by some fancy finger work on Lilly after. She got Lilly off three times, and then did some cuddling.
Nancy found the young man’s recovery time impressive, because she was hard again and ready to go in no time. Being in a young stud certainly had its advantages. She couldn’t help but compare Richard’s recovery time, which was 24 hours these days unless he took a pill. She didn’t like when he did that though, because they could be bad for his heart.
Nancy left a well fucked and very happy Lilly in the room to go ‘get ice’ for the champagne. She made sure to let Jackson keep the memory of what happened to be their first sexual encounter, and then hopped back into the bartender.
She surveyed the room and discovered quickly that her husband had left. She perused the bartender’s memories and discovered her husband’s phone call. He wouldn’t be in their room, but had hung up before saying which it was. She’d have to play detective. Thankfully that was very easy to do when you had complete access to someone’s mind from just a touch. She headed to the front desk again to find out where her man was.
___________________________________________________________________________
“What do you mean you’re not my wife,” Richard asked. “I…I saw you shudder, Nancy. Hell, I felt you shudder,” he added with a forced grin. He did not like whatever game his wife was playing.
The voice that came out of Crystal’s mouth was not her own, but that of a man, low and gravelly. “I miss playing the part of your wife, Richard. Did it for a few months, remember? You were a stallion back then. Always happy to fuck me every day.”
Richard knew that voice all too well, and a chill ran up his spine. “Nevyn. I thought you were dead.”
“Sorry to disappoint,” Nevyn said coldly. “But I’m afraid it’s not that easy to kill me. Some might say, it’s impossible. Uh oh…someone’s trying to get all soft on me.”
Crystal’s voice came back as Nevyn sat up straight and began bouncing on Richard’s cock. “We can’t have that, baby. If this voice keeps you nice and hard I’ll use it from now on while we fuck. Mm…that’s right. Stay nice and hard for me. I always did appreciate your big dick.”
“What do you want?” Richard asked, furious that his penis had a mind of its own.
“To wish you a happy birthday of course.” He brought Richard’s hands up to Crystal’s chest and placed them firmly on them. “Be a dear and hold these. Big tits like these need support when I really get going. And they liked to be squeezed. I know that’s something you’ve always been willing to do.”
“Nevyn, I can’t…we can’t…”
“Oh but we can,” Nevyn said with Crystal’s seductive voice. “We certainly used to. You made love to me every night, remember? I’d be waiting for you in the most scandalous lingerie. Nancy had stopped wearing it for you back then, but I had something provocative on that showed off her body for you all the time. And we used so many toys on each other. I really loved what you did with those handcuffs. You were an animal that night. Remember when I let you cover me in whip cream that other time. Ha! I know Derek remembers that night too. Our naughty son caught Mommy in the kitchen. He had to go back to his room and think about how you were gonna lick it off me. I was so loud that night. All so Derek could hear. So it would drive him nuts. Or should I say, drive him to nut.”
“Stop…talking about stuff like that,” Richard groaned, trying his best not to cum.
“Don’t play innocent with me, Richard. All this talk about me being in your wife and making her do all those kinky things is making you harder than ever. I can FEEL it because I’m as connected with you right now as anyone can be. Let me tell you something else you might not want to hear, but I know is the truth. You loved it when I was Nancy. You loved the kinky shit I let you do to her.”
Crystal’s body sped up as Nevyn began lifting her up higher and slamming down the length of him. “And I was happy to do it, Richard. Because your dick, well, it is really great. I’ve had thousands of cocks over the centuries, and yours was easily top five. It can stretch a girl out real nice. And your stamina, damn! It took a lot ot wear you out. You gonna have that same stamina tonight for me, Richard? Gonna make me cum on your big hard dick before you blow your load inside me like you used to? I loved that by the way. You always shot out so much! Hung like a horse and cums like one too. Oh I miss it Richard. Yeah! Fuck me like you used to!”
Richard hated how much he had liked that time. He’d always loved sex, and Nevyn had hopped Nancy during a dry spell in their lives. He’d used Nancy’s body to great effect. “Shut the fuck up! Oh fuck! Fuck! You’re sick! You’re a fucking psychopath!”
All of a sudden there was a loud knock on the door. “It’s me!” a voice called.
“That’s Nancy,” Richard said as relief washed over him.
“I knew she’d be along shortly,” Nevyn said as he continued to ride Richard. “And what good timing. Tell her to come in. I’m sure she has a key with since she is probably in the body of a hotel staff member.”
It seemed to Richard that Nevyn was five steps ahead of him. That wasn’t unusual. There was a reason that Derek and Aubrey had struggled to catch him for so long.
A hard slap across his face cleared the thoughts from his mind, and then Nevyn’s voice hissed menacingly, “I said tell her to come in.”
He wanted to protect his wife, but she was immune to Nevyn’s bodyhopping abilities. She should be fine. It was him that was at risk, so he yelled, “Come in Nancy!”
Just outside the door Nancy wondered why Richard wasn’t coming to let her in himself, but…maybe the woman, whose name she’d learned was Crystal, had him tied to the bed or something. She could only hope. What a fun night this could turn out to be.
She pressed a master key card against the locking mechanism and pushed the door open. There was her husband underneath the beautiful woman, who was craning her neck to look back at her.
“Nancy,” the woman called out. “So good to see you again. Your husband’s just as good as I remember, and if I’m not mistaken, given his shortness of breath and the way he can’t help but thrust his hips under me, he’s about to cum.”
“Richard, you’d better wait until-” Nancy began with a smile on her face. But it faltered as her mind started to piece together the words Crystal had just said, and another layer of tension was added by the fearful expression on her husband’s face.
“It’s Nevyn,” he moaned. “Ah! Dammit!” His whole body tensed as his cock began to pulse.
“Oh yes!” Nevyn cheered. “That’s it. There’s so much! Let it out! Here, I’ll help you!”
Richard felt Crystal’s vaginal walls flex and milk every drop from him. He also felt Nancy watching him in a mix of shock and horror. He mouthed, ‘I’m sorry.’
“It’s not your fault, honey,” she said. Then her tone turned to ice as she looked at Nevyn. “Get off him you sick freak. You’ve had your fun.”
Richard wondered if he could push Nevyn off and run. But it would only take a touch for Nevyn to possess his body. He felt his dick slide out of Crystal’s pussy, and his cum began to leak out of her onto his torso.
“I will when I’m ready,” Nevyn’s voice growled. He switched back to Crystal’s voice. “Did you ever tell your wife that you liked her more when I was possessing her?”
Richard looked at his wife pitifully “Honey, that’s not-”
Nevyn clucked his tongue. “Let’s not lie, Richard. I went through your memories when I visited your house this last week.”
“What’re you talking about?” Nancy asked.
“Don’t interrupt me when I’m talking!” Nevyn’s voice bellowed. He quickly switched back to the seductive tone of Crystal as he stroked Richard’s face. “I looked way back and saw that you were very happy during the time I pretended to be your wife. You never told her that, but it’s the truth. I was better at making you happy than she ever was. I was such a good wife and perfect slut for you in her body.”
“He’s lying!” Richard yelled.
“It’s fine, honey,” Nancy said. “He’s just trying to wind us up.”
Nevyn smiled. “Aw, you guys are sweet. Might as well get down to business then. I need to make a phone call to your kids. I’m sure you got a way to reach them, don’t you?”
Richard shook his head.
“Liar,” Nevyn spat. “Well, I guess say goodbye to Nancy, Richard.”
“What!” Richard blurted, and then he felt the shudder begin in his groin and spread out like lightning through his body. His face turned to Nancy. “I love you!” he said.
And then he blinked. And Richard was no longer in control.
“Get off me,” Nevyn said from underneath a now vacant eye’d Crystal. She immediately did, getting off him and standing expressionless at the side of the bed.
Nancy watched nervously as her husband’s body got up from the bed and went to dig his phone out of the pants that he’d tossed into a corner. “Just…let him go, please,” she begged.
“I will,” Nevyn said while he initiated a video call. “After I’ve delivered a message to Derek and Bri.” He walked over to the sliding glass door and opened it.
A second later, Aubrey’s face came on the screen. “Hey Derek! Dad’s calling. Happy birthday Dad!”
Another face pushed its way onto the screen, that of a pretty redhead with lots of freckles. “Hey Dad! Happy birthday! Sorry we couldn’t be there. Mom do something special for you?”
“She took me to a hotel with a great view!” Nevyn said imitating Richard’s voice and cadence flawlessly. “Wanna see?” He turned the camera so they could see the city lights below.
“Aw, that’s nice,” Aubrey gushed. “Is she there?”
Nevyn turned the phone so they could see the body that Nancy was in. The kids, used to this, called out, “Hi mom!”
“Nevyn’s not dead,” she replied grimly. “He’s here, inside your father.”
Nevyn turned the camera back to their father’s face. He’d wiped it off its smile, and traded it for a darkened scowl directed at Nancy. “Your family really sucks at letting me have any fun.”
The twins' faces had become hardened masks.
“Leave our parents alone, Nevyn,” Derek’s voice said harshly.
“What?” Nevyn said menacingly. “The way you left me alone? The way you keep trying to track me down. I know you don’t want to lock me away somewhere. You want to kill me!”
He’d shouted those last two words, making Nancy jump.
“I know you thought you had, but I’ve learned something, unlike you two and anyone else with my gene, I can’t be killed. Isn’t that great! But I CAN be annoyed at having my plans interrupted. So I’m going to respond to your attempt on my life, by an attempt on someone you love. I just think I’ll be a little more successful. Let’s find out, shall we?”
And with that, Nevyn swung a leg over the balcony railing, and leapt off.
Screams pierced the air as Nancy rang to the edge and looked down. They came from Nancy, and from the phone that Nevyn had pulled close to Richard’s chest. He held it in such a way that when his body met the ground, the phone remained intact. Aubrey’s scream could still be heard from the speaker.
In the busy downtown district, a crowd quickly formed. Nancy watched as a man approached her husband’s body. “Don’t touch him!” she yelled, but no one on the ground could make it out.
But the twins also knew the danger and understood what would come next. “Get away from him!” Derek cried.
“Stay away!” Aubrey shouted.
But all it takes is one touch.
The man touched Richard’s arm, and immediately began to shudder as Nevyn’s soul passed from their dead father, into the stranger, who then took the phone out of Richard’s hand and held it to his face.
“If you get in my way again,” Nevyn warned. “This is how it will end for all of you.”
With that, he ended the call, and walked away past the crowd, satisfied that he’d been understood.
_______________________________________________________________________
Epilogue
65 years later.
Derek sat in the passenger seat as Stephanie drove them out of Maine. They had one more stop to make before they made the long journey to headquarters. Derek hadn’t been back there since coming into possession of the mirror. That had been for his safety, and everyone else’s. At a place filled with active bodyhoppers, the mirror was sexual napalm, and the ramifications could be catastrophic. It really said something about the current state of the world that it was worth the risk.
Stephanie had assured him that all the pieces were coming together. They finally had the means to track Nevyn after he’d created a world filled with people just like him. But if Derek could just get near him, it would all be over. The world still might not be the same, but at least, if his hypothesis was right, the body swapping everyone worldwide was experiencing would finally come to an end.
He became aware that his hand was in the bag. His fingers were running along the smooth wooden handle. It called to him.
“This isn’t going to end well, you know,” Bekka’s voice said in his head.
“I know,” Derek said aloud.
“Know what?” Stephanie asked.
“Nothing,” Derek grunted. “I just talk to myself sometimes.”
“I’ve noticed.”
Stephanie gripped the steering wheel tightly as they passed a POM security vehicle. She breathed easier after she saw it continue on its way in their rearview. She reached into her pocket and took out a phone. “It’s a burner. Untraceable. Call the saved number. Someone really wants to talk to you.”
Derek took it and fumbled with the small device with his large calloused hands. He finally found the contact, and pressed it.
It barely rang when a middle aged blonde woman appeared on the screen.
“Hi Derek,” she said with a wide smile.
Despite himself, Derek smiled back. “How’d you know it was me?”
“A mother always knows.”
He nodded. “It’s good to see you. Sorry I’ve been away so long. But I’m glad it’s finally time. Ready to help set the world right, Mom?”
“I am. All of us are ready to do whatever it takes to stop Nevyn, and we can track him now thanks to Trevor. Thanks for sending him to us by the way, he’s been really great. Like, REALLY great.”
Derek tried to keep the smile on his face, but at the sound of the shapeshifter’s name, his grip involuntarily tightened on the mirror’s handle. “You don’t have to elaborate mom, I get it. It’ll be good to see all of you soon. And to finally have justice for dad.”
To be continued in Shudder: Worldwide.
It was Richard Johnson’s birthday, and he was a man on a mission. He was going to pick up a beautiful woman in a hotel bar using only his appearance and charm. He hadn’t needed to rely on those attributes in a very long time, but still managed to have a different woman in his bed every night. That was one of the perks to being married to a bodyhopper.
For the ten years that she’d been a bodyhopper, Nancy Johnson loved bringing home women that would entice her husband to fuck her senseless. If a pretty cashier caught his eye, or the cute teller at the bank, or a seductive college cheerleader, or one of the many local milfs, Nancy would make sure each of their bodies spent some very intimate time with her man. She’d even gone on a few trips to bring in some celebrities that he’d crushed on forever.
Nancy became bodyhopper during an experiment run by her twin children, Derek and Aubrey. They’d used an electrical charge to spark a gene inside of her. They knew it was there, because it ran in their family. Once activated, she gained the ability to pass her soul from one body to the next. In doing so, she gained access to that person’s mind and could pass for them with the greatest of ease. She had used it to seduce her husband, and eventually persuaded him to leave her aging body behind.
The couple were still very much in love, and when Nancy wasn’t fucking her husband’s brains out in a body typically younger than her previous one, they were enjoying hobbies and conversations that were akin to people who had been together for many years. They didn’t go out on many dates though since Nancy was usually in the body of a woman in her 20’s that could have been Richard’s granddaughter. It was here that the trouble started.
A week ago Nancy had gently teased her husband while in the guise of a cute, blonde 21 year old. She told him he’d never be able to pick up someone like her in real life because of the age gap. She thought it would turn him on. One of his favorite things was when she brought home a young woman and began calling him ‘Daddy.’ Perhaps because his 55th birthday was a week away, or the fact that they could no longer grow old together, he took it poorly.
“Age is just a number,” he snapped back. “I could go into a bar, any bar, and have a woman on my arm by the end of the night.”
Nancy had then made the catastrophic mistake of laughing at this remark. The idea of her husband with his wrinkles and gray hair going to a club and using his cheesy lines on a woman to take her back home was honestly absurd to her.
Richard’s pride took a hit, and he went to sleep on the couch that night, and no amount of cajoling or seduction could get him to return. This was also a blow to Nancy, because a bodyhopper continually craved sex. It seemed to be part of the gene. In instances like these, she’d had to seek other options. In that case, she’d taken the blonde home and fucked her boyfriend.
Nancy fucked a lot of boyfriends and husbands when she inevitably returned a host body. Richard knew this of these indiscretions, but also knew that as horny as he often was, his wife had an itch that he couldn’t always scratch, especially as he got older. He’d never resented her for it, because he’d been around a few bodyhoppers the last decade. Derek was one, and like Nancy, no longer had a body of his own. Aubrey was too, but had to keep her body hooked up to life support if she ever hopped someone.
Then there was the third bodyhopper they all knew. The one who had passed the gene on to so many people over the last few centuries. His name was Nevyn, and he’d almost ruined all of their lives.
Nevyn had possessed Nancy for a few months long ago, living with the Johnsons and teasing Derek relentlessly. But after Nevyn lost his bodyhopping power and became stuck in Derek’s body, he’d briefly aligned himself with the Johnsons in the pursuit of getting Derek his body back. They’d studied the gene and made several breakthroughs, and somewhere during this process, Nevyn felt sidelined, and eventually betrayed. He used what he knew to get his powers back by himself, which led to a close friend of the Johnsons named Bekka to lose her life, although the twins often spoke of her like she was still alive.
Nevyn’s actions spurred the twins along two different paths that ran parallel to each other. Aubrey continued unlocking the secrets of the bodyswapping gene to try and find a way to track it, while Derek pursued Nevyn by thinking like him, and looking for his telltale signatures in society.
A month ago, Derek had success, and had intercepted Nevyn. In a phone call, Derek had given his parents the good news that it was finally over.
“Nevyn’s dead. He knew I was chasing him and he ran into traffic. A second later he was hit by a bus. After all this time, that’s how it ends. It’s so strange. We finally all have our lives back.”
The Johnsons had all moved on as best they could, with Aubrey stating she was going back to college to get her doctorate, and Derek possibly moving back home.
But tonight, none of this was on Richard’s mind. Because tonight he was celebrating his birthday. Because of Nancy’s insensitive remarks, husband and wife made a wager. If he could pick up a woman at a local hotel bar and get her to go upstairs to a room for sex, she’d join them for a threesome.
“But what if she doesn’t want a threesome?” Richard had asked.
“You mean if I can’t convince her with my very impressive feminine wiles?” his wife had responded with a laugh. “Then I guess I’ll be doing some very fast hopping. Wouldn’t be the first time.”
This is why Richard now found himself up past his bedtime at a crowded hotel bar where the music was too loud. He’d much rather be at home, waiting to see who his wife was bringing him that night. But his pride was on the line.
Even though he’d been out of the dating game for a long time, he felt confident he’d be able to land a hottie and take her up to the hotel room they’d booked. He scanned the sea of people. It seemed full of possibilities. He locked eyes with a pretty raven haired woman behind the bar as she mixed a drink. She winked at him. Nancy had chosen this bartender as her vantage point to watch the proceeding.
She totally wanted him to win, which is why she pointed towards a small circular table where a couple of young women sat, chatting and giggling away. After observing them for a few seconds, he shot an upturned eyebrow back at Nancy. He knew these women were at least 21 years of age, but probably not a day older. They still had their whole lives ahead of them. He was just the man that could teach them a thing or two. Richard strode over confidently, believing that this would be over quickly, he’d be fucking one or both of them within the hour, and could go to sleep.
He assessed them as he got closer. The girl to his left was a curly haired brunette with a dazzling smile. She wore a short black dress, but didn’t have a lot going on in the chest department. That was okay. He was always partial to brunettes. They reminded him of his wife and his daughter Aubrey, although they had both been stacked.
To her right was a shoulder length blonde who was offering a generous amount of cleavage to all passersby in a low red blouse with lipstick that matched. His eyes lingered on her exposed skin, and it distracted him so much that he forgot to say anything upon his arrival.
“Can we…help you with something old man?” the blonde said with a pitying smirk.
“He looks lost,” the brunette giggled. “It seems like he’s trying to find directions to your tits.”
“Don’t even!” the blonde squealed, and whacked the brunette on the shoulder playfully. “I’m sure this grandpa is harmless.”
“Or he’s a dirty old man,” the brunette clapped back. “He’s gotta be, right? I mean he came over to our table. To what? Hit on us?” She crossed her legs and looked up at him as if she’d caught him doing something scandalous. “Do you even know how old we are, mister?”
“Um, uh, 21?” Richard replied as he tried to recover from their verbal assault.
“I am,” the blonde said, “But Kinzie here is only 19.”
“How did you…” Richard started to ask.
But the girl identified as Kinzie interjected. “Fake ID grandpa. What? They didn’t have those back in your day?”
“I don’t think they had that kind of technology back then,” the blonde added.
“Just had the wheel and fire, right gramps?”
“I am not that old!” Richard fumed.
“Yeah? How old are you then?” Kinzie asked with a raised eyebrow as she haughtily picked up her drink to take a sip.
“Old enough to…uh…teach you a few things,” Richard said as he tried to turn this interaction around.
This elicited a cringe response on both their faces that ended when they looked at each other and burst into a giggle fit.
The blonde’s eyes drifted down to Richard’s crotch, then back up to meet his. “Can you even get it up? I hear that can be a real problem for senior citizens.”
“I’m sure he can, Mckayla, withe the help of a pill!”
The giggle fit resumed in earnest, and Richard found himself wanting to retreat, from this table, from the premises from civilization. This had been a horrible idea.
Suddenly the bartender was at his side carrying a tray that had three drinks in martini glasses on it. “Here’s your drink sir, and how nice of you to buy a round for these two lovely ladies.”
“Ugh,” Kinzie said with an eye roll. “Well, a free drink’s a free drink.
She reached for it, but Mckayla hesitated and asked the bartender, “He didn’t pay you to slip something into it, did he?”
The bartender’s pretty face faltered as if she’d been slapped. But then she set her jaw, and said tightly, “I can assure you that he’d never have to do anything of the sort. Not when he has me.”
As Kinzie’s fingers curled around the thin stem of a glass, the bartender’s fingers brushed against her for the briefest of moments in a way that so often happens while passing something from one person to the next. A fleeting second of contact that feels both innocuous and yet strangely intimate. It is usually a moment that is here, then gone, but this time, it left a lingering effect in the form of a shudder that began in Kinzie’s hand.
“Excuse me?” Mckayla asked loudly in response to what the bartender had just said. But she got no response, because the bartender’s gaze had gone slack.
“Um, Mckayla, I think maybe I’ve had too much to drink,” Kinzie said as she looked at the tremor rapidly spreading up her arm.
Mckayla didn’t look at her friend but continued to study the bartender. It was like she was asleep, but her eyes were open. She was just standing as still as a statue holding the tray. “You’ve only had one Kinzie. I swear, you’re such a lightweight. You really should be building up more of a tolerance for the parties at college.”
“No, really, I…I think I want to go…” but the rest of what she might have said was lost as her mind was no longer her own.
“Just kidding!” Kinzie suddenly squealed. “I feel fine! In fact, I think we should go to this handsome guy’s room. You got a room, don’t ya mister?”
Mckayla’s jaw dropped as she turned her head away from the bartender towards her friend. “Are you fucking kidding me girl? You’ve got to be insane if you think that I’m going anywhere with grandpa here just cause he got us a free-”
But she stopped mid sentence as her friend grabbed her wrist, and it too began to shudder.
“What the hell? Why’s my arm fucking doing that? Am I having a stroke or some-”
But then Mckayla went quiet for a second before looking up at the bartender and taking the drink she’d previously insinuated was spiked. “Thank you, ma’am. Now go back and attend to your duties.”
“Yes,” the pretty bartender said in a flat tone before she turned away and went back behind the bar.
“So, stud,” Mackayla said as she eyed Richard up and down as if he were a snack. “I believe you were about to sit down and talk us two lovely ladies into having a threesome with you?” She set her glass down on the table and touched her friend’s hand.
Shudder.
A second later Kinzie said, “Yeah. We’d totally say yes. You can take us upstairs to your room and fuck us stupid. We’re both really nimble. We were both cheerleaders!” She touched Mckayla’s hand.
Shudder.
“I bet you like cheerleaders, don’t ya?” Mckayla said with a wink. “Especially ones that like kissing each other.” She looked at her friend and said, “Kiss me passionately.”
“Yes,” Kinzie said, and then their lips were together as they kissed each other deeply.
Shudder.
“So, what do you say?” Kinzie asked with her thousand watt smile.
Shudder.
“Please take us horny sluts up to your room and be our daddy for the night.”
This sudden reversal of fortune seemed to darken Richard’s mood. “Dammit Nancy! The deal was I do this on my own!”
Several people glanced at the tiny outburst from the older gentleman standing in front of the two young women. He seemed to be reprimanding them for something. Richard seemed to understand he’d made a scene, and smiled bashfully. A few seconds later, everyone went back to their drinks and conversations.
“I’m sorry, Richard,” Nancy’s voice came quietly out of Mckayla’s mouth. “It’s just, I heard these cunts being horrible to you and I thought we could teach them a lesson.” She put a hand on his leg and began sliding it upwards. “Together.”
Mckayla’s voice was back then. “Please mister. Please fuck some manners into us. Kinzie and I would learn so much from you.” She touched her friend on the arm.
Shudder.
“Yeah. Teach us Daddy,” Kinzie whined. “We’ll be good girls for you. We’ll even let you-”
“Enough,” Richard said quietly but firmly. “Anyone I take upstairs tonight will come because they want to. So…get out of these girls and let me get back to finding that person.”
“Fine!” Nancy said with an eye roll. “You still interested in teaching them a lesson though?”
“What did you have in mind?”
Nancy waved over the bartender who approached them quickly. Her eyes seemed less vacant than before, but there was still a bit of a haze there. Nancy casually brushed the back of Kinzie’s hand against the bartender, who shuddered.
“Well,” the bartender said, and she sounded as if she were recommending a drink. “Since you two are such good friends, you’re going to get each other off. I want you to go into the ladies room and strip naked, then toss your clothes out the window in there. Then go into a stall and begin licking and fingering each other. Try to make each other cum as fast as you can.”
“Yes,” they both said in perfect unison. They immediately stood, and with robotic grace walked to the ladies room.
“Well fuck me,” Richard said. “Now I want to go to the ladies room.”
“You had your chance,” Nancy said with a smirk. “Although I did memorize Mckayla’s address if you ever want me to go pay her a visit.”
A huge grin crept over Richard’s face. “I love you.”
“I know. Now get back on the horse and go get ‘em tiger. I’ll be over there watching. Best of luck. I do want you to have a happy birthday!”
“I think I’ll go hit on someone near the ladies room.”
“You do that, dear,” she said with a laugh, then went back to resume bartending.
Richard set off in the direction the two girls had gone. He passed by several people that looked like couples or were just trying to relax by themselves. He considered hitting on a few of them, but crossed off the ones that looked under 26. No more early twentysomethings. Too obnoxious and rude. He’d go aim a bit higher, which, he didn’t want to admit, would probably up his chances of success.
He decided on a professionally dressed woman in a light blue blouse and dark skirt sitting by herself. She wore her sandy blonde hair in a bun. She had glasses, and was staring intently at a laptop. If he struck out with her, she’d probably let him down gently unlike those first two had. He wondered if they were in the stall by now, their naked bodies pressed together invading each other’s holes with their tongues and fingers in a desperate attempt to make the other cum.
“This seat taken?” he asked with what he believed to be a suave demeanor.
“Huh, what?” the woman said, not bothering to look at him. “No? You can take it if you want.”
Richard was confused for a second, then understood. “No, I don’t need it for another table. I wanted to sit with you.”
This caused her to look up at him like he’d just said something very stupid. “Why?”
“Because…” he said, as he tried to think of something clever. He was beginning to wonder if he’d ever actually been clever in his life. “Because I wanted to get to know the prettiest woman in this bar.”
Her eyebrow raised and she gave him a quick up and down assessment. Then her lips pursed together like she’d tasted something sour. “Um…no. Thank you.”
Richard had been in sales for a long time, and never accepted the first no. Sometimes not the second. He could do this. He just needed a chance to show her what a catch he was. “I really think you’ll like me if you get to know me.”
“Probably not,” she said dismissively. “Because I tend not to like married men who hit on other women.”
This comment took Richard aback. “What? Why would you think I’m-”
“Wedding ring, dipshit,” the woman said, pointing at his left hand.
Despite the fact that Nancy’s actual body had been declared dead and they’d had a funeral and everything, to Richard, and to Nancy, she was very much alive. Of course he wore his ring. He’d never even thought about taking it off until this very second. Now he realized how foolish it had been to wear it while trying to pick up women in a bar. Then he had an idea.
“Oh, um…yeah, I’m…a widower. Just can’t bear to take it off.”
The woman’s eyes went wide and her face went very red. She began fidgeting with her hands as she apologetically blurted out, “Oh shit! I’m so sorry. I should not have…uh, has she been gone long? I mean…I didn’t mean to ask something so personal! I feel so bad! I honestly don’t know what to say.”
“How about you just let me buy you a drink and we get to know each other,” Richard offered as his confidence level soared to new heights. He glanced towards his wife behind the bar and signaled that he had someone on the hook.
The woman grimaced and said, “It’s really flattering, but…I have a deadline and-”
Richard interrupted. “It was a few years back when I lost her, but it still feels like yesterday. She was the love of my life, you know. Tonight was the first night I worked up the courage to put myself back out there.”
The woman’s expression became one of deepest sympathy and she closed her laptop. “I…I suppose one drink wouldn’t hurt. Uh…I’m Natalie.”
“Yes!” Richard exclaimed, and he couldn’t help but give a little fist pump. “That’ll show her.”
“Show who?”
Without thinking he said, “My wife. She didn’t think I could still get a woman to give me the time of…” He trailed off as he recognized his mistake.
The woman’s face shifted into one of loathing. “Wait! Was that whole dead wife thing a line?”
“No, I-”
“You’re disgusting. Go find someone else to be sleazy to,” she said with a wave of her hand.
“So close,” Richard said as he stood. Back to square one. He was a few steps away when a hand grabbed his shoulder and spun him around.
“Fine! Natalie said with a bit of contempt still etched on her face. “You wanna fool around, I could use a destresser. Let’s go.”
Richard couldn’t believe his luck! “I have a room we can-”
“I know someplace closer,” she said, and still clasping his hand, she drug him to the ladies room and pushed open the door.
They both stopped at the sight of two naked women who appeared to be having a wild night. Their hair was a mess and their lipstick was smeared. They were both attempting to cover their bodies with paper towels, but it was not working very well. At the sight of the woman, Kinzie said, “Ohmygosh can you please help us? We need some clothes. Can you-”
“Ah!” Mckayla yelled. “There’s a man with her!”
She made a better attempt to cover her boobs, but her crotch was very much exposed. Richard knew where some of Kinzie’s lipstick went, because some remnants of her shade were between Mckayla’s legs.
“It’s the old guy from before!” Kinzie hissed, and they both darted into a stall.
“Looks like this one has other stuff going on,” Natalie quipped, and pulled Richard out and into the men’s. She led him to a stall, pushed him inside and said, “Take off your pants.”
Richard’s fingers flew to his crotch where they momentarily seemed to forget how to unbuckle a belt.
“Let me help,” Natalie said with an eye roll. She sank to her knees and was much more adept at getting Richard’s pants off than he seemed to be. She made no pretense of why they were there as she yanked down his underwear. She took his cock in her hand, holding it up to be level with her face. Then she leaned forward and took him in her mouth.
“Oh fuck! That was fast!” he said. His mojo was back! It might not have worked the way he’d planned, but a win was still a-
He felt it then. A telltale shudder. He’d felt it many, many times while he and his wife made love. A shudder was the telltale sign of a bodyhopper moving into a new host. But it continued to happen intermittently while the hopper remained inside. It was a brief struggle of one soul dominating the other. It was like a reflex, and could even be done while a hopper slept, but it was also very noticeable, especially for someone who had been around hoppers as much as Richard.
“Seriously Nancy! Again!” he said as he pushed Natalie’s head back. He’d really been enjoying himself too, but his dick was suddenly deflating as he realized he’d been duped.
The woman’s face looked up at him sheepishly. “I thought I could get you off real quick before I shuddered and then you’d have a win and you could take me upstairs and fuck.”
Richard frowned, pissed that he was still 0 for 2. “Well, you almost got me there. Another 20 seconds of your world class dick sucking and I would have busted all over your face.”
She reached up and stroked his cock, which twitched hopefully in her hand. “You still could, darling. Seriously. I’m so horny in this body. I’d love it if you took me right here in this stall.”
Richard had to hand it to his wife. She could bring out the sluttiest part of any woman. He could take her right here and she’d never know because of how Nancy could alter her memories. But he shook his head and helped her to her feet.
“Wait! When did you even hop her?” he asked as he pulled his pants up.
She gave a small smile. “I’d just arrived to take your drink order when you got up to leave her table. A second later I was her, and pulled you into the bathroom so you wouldn’t notice the bartender right behind us.”
“That was so funny seeing those two girls in the bathroom.”
“That’s why I took you in there first. Did you see the lipstick on the one girl’s hoo ha?”
“Oh yeah.”
The couple burst out laughing, but then Richard said, “Okay, I’m going back out there. No help this time, understood?”
Nancy slumped Natalie’s shoulders. “I don’t think you know how much I want you to succeed, dear. I really need it right now. I might just rub one out in the stall real quick when you leave. Unless you want to watch?” She began to unbutton her blouse while she bit her lower lip. “You could still help this uptight business woman unwind?”
Richard left in a hurry before his wife could tempt him further. What did he do to deserve such a seductive creature?
As he left the restroom, he eyed the occupants of the bar with new determination. Third time’s the charm. He’d just…pick someone closer to his age. Not his preferred choice, but a gal with experience could certainly bring a lot to the table, or in this case, the bedroom. He pocketed his wedding ring as he circled the perimeter, finally coming back near the entrance where other hotel guests passed close by.
It was there he saw someone he’d passed by earlier. A woman in her early 40’s that he hadn’t really considered. She was quite striking though with her long auburn hair and legs that went on for miles. Richard thought she somewhat resembled Nancy in the face. And also the boobs. The woman was stacked.
She had a duffel bag on the chair next to her. Richard put a hand on the handle of the bag and said, “Mind if I move this so I can have a seat?” As he started to lift it, it began to shake. And growl.
The woman’s eyebrows shot up and she protectively reached for it and pulled it onto her lap. “Have a seat if you must, but Daisy doesn’t like to be jostled unnecessarily.”
Out of the top of the bag popped the face of an adorable Yorkshire terrier. Her furry brown face looked up into his and gave a small yip.
“Good girl,” the woman said with a small smile as she pulled the terrier out of the bag and put her on her lap. “She can be a very good judge of character. You must be a bad man.” The terrier growled at him.
Richard put his hands up and chuckled, then said to the small dog, “I can assure you I meant no harm little lady.” He held out a hand for her to sniff. The terrier did, and then gave his palm a lick.
The woman assessed him, and by her expression, she liked what she saw. “Perhaps you’re not terrible. Go ahead and have a seat.”
Richard did so. “I didn’t know you could have dogs in here.”
“You probably can’t,” the woman said with an air of indifference. “But she’s my emotional support animal. That’s what I tell everyone anyways.”
This annoyed Richard, but he tried hard to focus on her figure, something which the woman didn’t seem to mind him eyeing. “So, what’s your sign?”
This elicited a shrill laugh from the woman. “I haven’t heard that one in awhile.”
“I really need to get some new material.”
“Do you find yourself coming out to hotel bars often enough that you need to constantly refresh it?”
“Er, no,” Richard said. “I usually just stick with the basics. Like, hi, I’m Richard, and you are a very beautiful woman that I would like to get to know better.”
She cocked her head at him, studying him closely like a cat might before pouncing on a mouse, then said, “That was a much better line. I’m Crystal. What would you like to know?”
The two hit it off, and Richard found Crystal’s banter refreshing. She didn’t look at him like he was ancient, or pitied him in any way. Best of all though, she hadn’t shuddered once.
They were mid conversation discussing childhood pets when the bartender came up and asked, “Can I get you two anything?”
“I’ll take a bourbon,” Richard said, not taking his eyes away from Crystal.
“Nothing for me,” Crystal said as she tapped a glass she’d barely touched.
They both just stared at each other, mirroring a smile that belied a bubbling chemistry under the surface.
The spell was momentarily broken by the sound of the bartender clearing her throat. “Will you be taking that bourbon up to your room…sir?”
Richard looked up at the raven haired bartender. “In a bit. We’re in no rush.”
The bartender’s eyes narrowed, and her smile became tight lipped. “Of course…sir. By all means, take your time.”
As she walked away, she touched the shoulder of a woman passing by, who shuddered. That woman whispered something into the bartender’s ear, who went about her duties a moment later.
Richard was oblivious to this. He was enjoying the massive ego boost Crystal was giving him. He found himself opening up to her, sharing things like it was a first date. He was used to seeing different women all the time, but the conversation was always the same, because his wife knew everything about him. This was nice, so much so that he didn’t mind talking and throwing back a few. He was slightly worried that he’d pissed Nancy off, because she acted like she didn’t know him whenever she brought the drinks.
“Well, this has been lovely,” Crystal finally said. “But I should be going.”
“Oh, um, I was wondering if you wanted to…” Richard started, not entirely sure how to seal the deal.
She grinned at him and finished the proposition for him. “If I wanted to come up to your room and we have casual sex like grown adults?”
“Uh…” Richard stammered. “Y-yeah. I guess…that.”
“You’re very cute when you’re flustered.”
“Well if you’d like to see me flustered you should see me try to take my pants off when I’m really excited.”
She laughed. “I feel like I’m missing something.”
“Sorry, it’s just been awhile since I…”
“Mommy, mommy, she’s got a dog!”
A boy about five or six walking by the hotel bar area with his mom had broken free of her hand and ran to their table. The boy put his hand on the dog’s fur, and gave it a hard pet, causing the dog to shake at the sudden attention.
“Mason!” his mom snapped as she grabbed the boy’s arm and pulled him back. “We ask permission before touching someone’s pet. It might have bit you. I’m so sorry,” she said to Crystal as she backpedaled out of the bar with her son.
“No harm done,” Crystal said graciously.
“Mason, use your feet,” the mom admonished. “I feel like I’m dragging you out of here.”
When they were out of earshot, Crystal said, “Kids. They never can resist a cute dog like Daisy.” She gave her pet a loving pat. The dog looked at Richard and yipped playfully. Then she kept yipping.
“Well, if you’re going to start making all that noise, I probably should get you up to a room,” she said. “And it seems like we have options,” she said looking slyly at Richard. “Yours or mine?”
They both laughed and got up from the table. Richard let Crystal take the lead so he could wave at the pretty bartender, who didn’t seem to understand why he was pointing at Crystal and giving her the thumbs up. The bartender just smiled awkwardly back at him and returned the thumbs up.
Richard was glad his wife was letting him get a head start, knowing she’d show up soon. He and Crystal got in the elevator and faced the closing doors. He pressed the button to his floor, and as he did, he didn’t notice the dog’s nose reaching up out of the bag to press against Crystal’s hip. Nor did he see Crystal shudder a moment later.
“Let’s go to mine actually,” she said. “It’s on the top floor. The penthouse suite. Great view.”
“Um…” Richard said, unsure of what to do. It was okay. He could just call down and let his wife know they’d received an upgrade. “Sure thing.”
As soon as the doors were shut, her mouth was on his. He responded in kind, and their hands roamed freely about each other. The dog was oddly silent despite being jostled.
They practically fell out into the empty hallway when the doors opened. They were both panting and pulling at each other’s clothes as they stumbled their way to an ornate door. Crystal pulled out a card from a side pocket of Daisy’s carrier, and pressed it to an electronic device next to the door. The light went green, and the sound of a click could be heard. Crystal pushed her way in, and Richard stepped into a room that was much bigger than the one he thought he’d be sleeping in. There was an entire living room, kitchen, and bedroom area. And as he walked further in, he saw that Crystal hadn’t been kidding. There was an amazing view. He strode to the far side of the living room where a sliding glass door led out to a balcony. He opened it, and stepped out into the night. He was ten stories up, with the city a twinkling sea of lights below him.
“If you’d rather stay out there you can,” a sultry voice called from behind. “But I think you’ll find the view in here much more interesting.”
Richard turned and found that yes, the view was much better inside this penthouse suite. Crystal hand dispensed with her dress, and was standing in a black lingerie set that she must have been wearing underneath in the off chance she got lucky. With a body like hers though, she didn’t need luck. He was just glad he’d been the one she’d decided to take to bed, but he also chalked some of that up to his own good looks and charm.
He came over to her and pulled her into a kiss. He’d expected it to feel different kissing someone that his wife wasn’t possessing. New. Foreign. But…there was a surprising familiarity to it. New mouth, new tongue, but the way their mouths met was how he’d kissed Nancy for so many years.
An annoying sound went off in Crystal’s purse that she’d tossed onto the bed. It disrupted their entwined tongues. “Sorry,” Crystal said as she scooped her purse up. “That’s the alarm on my phone. I need to go…take my medication. High blood pressure.”
“Totally get it,” Richard started to say as Crystal quickly disappeared into the bathroom a few feet away. “I have high cholesterol.” He wasn’t sure if she’d heard all of that, because she’d slammed the door so fast.
What seemed like just a few seconds later though, she came out again. And her hands were behind her back.
“You found those pills fast,” he said. “It takes my wife a long time to dig anything out of her purse.” He went red immediately, as he realized his little slip of the tongue.
“Are you married, Richard?” she asked sweetly as the tension in her bra gave way as she released the clasp. She began to lower it, giving him a great view of her impressive breasts.
“Uh…y-yes,” he said.
“But you’re here with me?” she said in a teasing manner. “And you’re going to fuck me, aren’t you.” She hadn’t said it as a question, but as a fact.
Richard nodded quickly. “I am!”
“Does your wife know you’re here?” Crystal asked as her fingers began to unbutton his shirt.
“Yes, well, no, not here. She knows I’m in the hotel. It’s a long story, you see, it’s my birthday. She said I could have a threesome if I could pick up a woman at the bar.”
Crystal laughed softly. “Oh. So I’m expected to invite someone else up to my suite am I? Is your wife attractive?”
Richard thought that was a rather funny question since Nancy could be anyone she pleased. Currently, she was in that very pretty bartender. “Yeah, she’s…very attractive,” he said earnestly as he pulled out his phone to call the bar. “I can let her we’re in your suite so she can come up and-”
Crystal grabbed the phone from his hand and threw it with a smile onto the bed. “Not just yet. I want you to myself for a little bit. That okay?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said.
She winked at him as she unzipped his pants. “That was the right answer.” And then she was dropping to her knees, pulling his pants down as she went. Her fingers deftly moved to the hem of his boxers, which came down just as fast. “My, my!” she said as Richard’s sizeable erection popped out. She licked her lips at the sight of it. “Someone is very excited to see me.”
“Oh he is,” Richard chuckled. “So how do you want to-” was as far as he got before he gave a happy little strangled moan, because Crystal had taken him in her mouth. And the way she used her tongue, Richard knew this was not her first rodeo. His stamina had increased with age, probably because he was getting laid about every night from a different beautiful woman. But the way Crystal was sucking him, he wasn’t going to last long.
He tried to signal this by tapping her on the head, and then by sputtering a very coherent, “Um...”
But she kept going, getting him right up to the edge, and then…stopped just as quickly as she’d started. She’d seemed to know where his line was, and had backed off in the nick of time.
“Sorry,” she said as she stood and delicately wiped her mouth. “I just had to see if it tasted as good as it looked.”
Richard was trying to catch his breath as he asked, “And?”
“It was even better,” she giggled. Then she led him to the bed, and pushed him onto it. “What’s your favorite position, Richard?” she asked.
“Uh, basically just…”
“Whatever your wife wants?” Crystal finished for him. “You must be happily married,” she added with a wink. “Well, I like to be on top.”
“That works for me,” Richard said happily as he flopped his body against the bed.
Crystal started to crawl on top of him with a seductive smile, when her phone went off again. She blew a strand of hair out of her face as she got up and looked in annoyance in the direction of her phone. “Sorry. Just let me go take care of something real quick.”
“Whatever you need to do,” Richard said. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“I’m counting on it,” she said with a smile as she again slipped quickly into the bathroom.
Richard spied the hotel phone next to the bed, and reached for it.
“How can I help you?” a polite voice asked on the other end.
“Bar please?”
“Certainly.”
A second later the familiar voice of the bartender picked up. “Hello. What drink order would you like sent to your-”
Richard cut her off. “Nancy, it’s me. I’m in the penthouse suite. Come join us as soon as you can.” He heard the turning of the bathroom handle and said, “Love you!”
“Excuse me?” came the voice on the other end, but the receiver was already on its way forcibly back to its cradle.
“Ordering room service?” Crystal asked coyly as she reentered the room. She walked nimbly towards him with searching eyes.
“Huh? Oh, uh, yeah. Hope that’s okay?” Richard noticed she’d left her phone in the bathroom. Hopefully that was the last interruption.
“As long as you charged it to my room,” she said demurely. “Now, where were we? Oh yes. I think I was about to get on top of you and ride your dick until you cum inside my wet pussy.”
Richard stretched out and smiled. “Well, if you must.”
Crystal’s eyes flashed, and she looked almost predatory as she made her way onto the bed. She eyed his cock like it was a prize that was just there for her. She curled her fingers around it and gave it a gentle squeeze. It throbbed in appreciation. She leaned forward and pressed her large breasts against his chest. She made eye contact with him while she used the hand gripping his shaft to guide it in. Her mouth formed an ‘O’ the second he parted her. She stayed there for a moment, with just his tip in, then she rocked her hips forward, and he was suddenly deep inside her.
Richard let out the breath he hadn’t known he was holding when he felt the tip go in. Nancy always watched him very closely whenever he went into new pussy that she’d brought home. Crystal continued watching him closely too.
“So big,” she cooed. “So hard. So…familiar,” she said with a sly smile.
“Familiar?” he asked, his chest rising and falling from the way she was grinding her hips. This woman was something else. She really knew how to use her body.
In lieu of an answer, she leaned down again and kissed him passionately. She flexed her pussy as their tongues danced together.
Richard loved everything this woman was doing. Clearly she had a lot of experience, but what she said, and how she kissed him. It was so like Nancy would kiss him. He tried to ask her about it, but her mouth continued to cover his, almost as if she didn’t want him to talk yet. His hands came up to her face but she intercepted them and pushed them back against the bed, pinning him.
At last Crystal ended the kiss and raised her face up just enough so their noses touched. “Just like old times, Richard,” she purred.
And then her face moved rapidly in front of him, as her whole body gave way to a violent shudder.
Richard’s temper flared and he tried to push up, but Crystal held him down. “Nancy, what the hell! I wanted to do this on my own!”
A wicked smile spread across Crystal’s face as she continued to fuck him very slowly. “Afraid you’re mistaken, Richard. I’m not your wife. But I’m not Crystal either.”
_____________________________________________________________________
One hour earlier.
Nancy hadn’t planned on Richard’s foray back into the dating pool taking this long. She had needs! He knew this. And birthday or no, she needed to scratch that itch. The need to wrap her legs around him had increased exponentially as she watched him successfully hit it off with an attractive middle aged woman.
It was not lost on Nancy that Crystal somewhat resembled her as she had been a decade ago. She wished she could hop her. Find out her story real quick and make sure she wasn’t wasting her husband’s time. But that’d have to wait till later. She saw that every second Crystal spent with Richard was doing wonders for his self esteem. And it was also making Nancy jealous, something she had not felt in some time. She kind of liked it, because watching her husband interact from afar with a beautiful woman that she was not possessing spiked her lust. She wanted them to go upstairs now! But since they were taking their sweet time, Nancy decided to quell some of her desire by popping out for a quickie as someone else.
In a hotel, this prospect was incredibly easy. She grabbed a bottle of champagne and went to the front desk. She hopped the man behind a computer, looked up who was in a honeymoon suite, hopped back into the bartender, and went to one of the corresponding rooms.
There was a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign hanging from the door handle of the room she’d chosen. Nancy knocked anyway. A loud curse was heard along with the sound of giggles. A half a minute later, an attractive young man opened the door wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. He looked flushed and agitated.
“We put the sign on the door,” he spluttered.
“So sorry,” Nancy said as she held out the bottle of champagne. “We forgot to give this to you at the front desk as a way of congratulations.”
The man’s demeanor changed as he saw the expensive looking bottle. He reached out to take it. “Well…thanks I-”
But the words ceased as his fingers brushed the bartender’s, and a shudder spread rapidly through him. He smiled back at the bartender a moment later. “Go resume your duties. This shouldn’t take long.”
“Yes,” the bartender said vacantly, and left.
Nancy shut the door, and let the towel drop. She looked down at a semi flaccid penis that was rapidly reclaiming its hardened status. “Not bad. Now let’s see who’s the lucky recipient of this fine specimen.”
She went deeper into the room and found a gorgeous blonde wearing nothing but a smile. Nancy usually preferred being in a female during sex, but she figured what the hell. She’d show this bride a good time on her wedding night. She climbed confidently onto the bed and spread the woman’s legs.
“Oh!” she gasped. “Jackson you, you seem…more sure of yourself all of a sudden!”
Nancy smiled down at the pretty girl. She’d be letting Jackson keep his memory of what was about to transpire. “I’m just so excited to do this with you for the first time, Lilly.” And with that, Nancy thrust into her, and did her very best to last longer than five minutes. She made it to six, but redeemed herself by some fancy finger work on Lilly after. She got Lilly off three times, and then did some cuddling.
Nancy found the young man’s recovery time impressive, because she was hard again and ready to go in no time. Being in a young stud certainly had its advantages. She couldn’t help but compare Richard’s recovery time, which was 24 hours these days unless he took a pill. She didn’t like when he did that though, because they could be bad for his heart.
Nancy left a well fucked and very happy Lilly in the room to go ‘get ice’ for the champagne. She made sure to let Jackson keep the memory of what happened to be their first sexual encounter, and then hopped back into the bartender.
She surveyed the room and discovered quickly that her husband had left. She perused the bartender’s memories and discovered her husband’s phone call. He wouldn’t be in their room, but had hung up before saying which it was. She’d have to play detective. Thankfully that was very easy to do when you had complete access to someone’s mind from just a touch. She headed to the front desk again to find out where her man was.
___________________________________________________________________________
“What do you mean you’re not my wife,” Richard asked. “I…I saw you shudder, Nancy. Hell, I felt you shudder,” he added with a forced grin. He did not like whatever game his wife was playing.
The voice that came out of Crystal’s mouth was not her own, but that of a man, low and gravelly. “I miss playing the part of your wife, Richard. Did it for a few months, remember? You were a stallion back then. Always happy to fuck me every day.”
Richard knew that voice all too well, and a chill ran up his spine. “Nevyn. I thought you were dead.”
“Sorry to disappoint,” Nevyn said coldly. “But I’m afraid it’s not that easy to kill me. Some might say, it’s impossible. Uh oh…someone’s trying to get all soft on me.”
Crystal’s voice came back as Nevyn sat up straight and began bouncing on Richard’s cock. “We can’t have that, baby. If this voice keeps you nice and hard I’ll use it from now on while we fuck. Mm…that’s right. Stay nice and hard for me. I always did appreciate your big dick.”
“What do you want?” Richard asked, furious that his penis had a mind of its own.
“To wish you a happy birthday of course.” He brought Richard’s hands up to Crystal’s chest and placed them firmly on them. “Be a dear and hold these. Big tits like these need support when I really get going. And they liked to be squeezed. I know that’s something you’ve always been willing to do.”
“Nevyn, I can’t…we can’t…”
“Oh but we can,” Nevyn said with Crystal’s seductive voice. “We certainly used to. You made love to me every night, remember? I’d be waiting for you in the most scandalous lingerie. Nancy had stopped wearing it for you back then, but I had something provocative on that showed off her body for you all the time. And we used so many toys on each other. I really loved what you did with those handcuffs. You were an animal that night. Remember when I let you cover me in whip cream that other time. Ha! I know Derek remembers that night too. Our naughty son caught Mommy in the kitchen. He had to go back to his room and think about how you were gonna lick it off me. I was so loud that night. All so Derek could hear. So it would drive him nuts. Or should I say, drive him to nut.”
“Stop…talking about stuff like that,” Richard groaned, trying his best not to cum.
“Don’t play innocent with me, Richard. All this talk about me being in your wife and making her do all those kinky things is making you harder than ever. I can FEEL it because I’m as connected with you right now as anyone can be. Let me tell you something else you might not want to hear, but I know is the truth. You loved it when I was Nancy. You loved the kinky shit I let you do to her.”
Crystal’s body sped up as Nevyn began lifting her up higher and slamming down the length of him. “And I was happy to do it, Richard. Because your dick, well, it is really great. I’ve had thousands of cocks over the centuries, and yours was easily top five. It can stretch a girl out real nice. And your stamina, damn! It took a lot ot wear you out. You gonna have that same stamina tonight for me, Richard? Gonna make me cum on your big hard dick before you blow your load inside me like you used to? I loved that by the way. You always shot out so much! Hung like a horse and cums like one too. Oh I miss it Richard. Yeah! Fuck me like you used to!”
Richard hated how much he had liked that time. He’d always loved sex, and Nevyn had hopped Nancy during a dry spell in their lives. He’d used Nancy’s body to great effect. “Shut the fuck up! Oh fuck! Fuck! You’re sick! You’re a fucking psychopath!”
All of a sudden there was a loud knock on the door. “It’s me!” a voice called.
“That’s Nancy,” Richard said as relief washed over him.
“I knew she’d be along shortly,” Nevyn said as he continued to ride Richard. “And what good timing. Tell her to come in. I’m sure she has a key with since she is probably in the body of a hotel staff member.”
It seemed to Richard that Nevyn was five steps ahead of him. That wasn’t unusual. There was a reason that Derek and Aubrey had struggled to catch him for so long.
A hard slap across his face cleared the thoughts from his mind, and then Nevyn’s voice hissed menacingly, “I said tell her to come in.”
He wanted to protect his wife, but she was immune to Nevyn’s bodyhopping abilities. She should be fine. It was him that was at risk, so he yelled, “Come in Nancy!”
Just outside the door Nancy wondered why Richard wasn’t coming to let her in himself, but…maybe the woman, whose name she’d learned was Crystal, had him tied to the bed or something. She could only hope. What a fun night this could turn out to be.
She pressed a master key card against the locking mechanism and pushed the door open. There was her husband underneath the beautiful woman, who was craning her neck to look back at her.
“Nancy,” the woman called out. “So good to see you again. Your husband’s just as good as I remember, and if I’m not mistaken, given his shortness of breath and the way he can’t help but thrust his hips under me, he’s about to cum.”
“Richard, you’d better wait until-” Nancy began with a smile on her face. But it faltered as her mind started to piece together the words Crystal had just said, and another layer of tension was added by the fearful expression on her husband’s face.
“It’s Nevyn,” he moaned. “Ah! Dammit!” His whole body tensed as his cock began to pulse.
“Oh yes!” Nevyn cheered. “That’s it. There’s so much! Let it out! Here, I’ll help you!”
Richard felt Crystal’s vaginal walls flex and milk every drop from him. He also felt Nancy watching him in a mix of shock and horror. He mouthed, ‘I’m sorry.’
“It’s not your fault, honey,” she said. Then her tone turned to ice as she looked at Nevyn. “Get off him you sick freak. You’ve had your fun.”
Richard wondered if he could push Nevyn off and run. But it would only take a touch for Nevyn to possess his body. He felt his dick slide out of Crystal’s pussy, and his cum began to leak out of her onto his torso.
“I will when I’m ready,” Nevyn’s voice growled. He switched back to Crystal’s voice. “Did you ever tell your wife that you liked her more when I was possessing her?”
Richard looked at his wife pitifully “Honey, that’s not-”
Nevyn clucked his tongue. “Let’s not lie, Richard. I went through your memories when I visited your house this last week.”
“What’re you talking about?” Nancy asked.
“Don’t interrupt me when I’m talking!” Nevyn’s voice bellowed. He quickly switched back to the seductive tone of Crystal as he stroked Richard’s face. “I looked way back and saw that you were very happy during the time I pretended to be your wife. You never told her that, but it’s the truth. I was better at making you happy than she ever was. I was such a good wife and perfect slut for you in her body.”
“He’s lying!” Richard yelled.
“It’s fine, honey,” Nancy said. “He’s just trying to wind us up.”
Nevyn smiled. “Aw, you guys are sweet. Might as well get down to business then. I need to make a phone call to your kids. I’m sure you got a way to reach them, don’t you?”
Richard shook his head.
“Liar,” Nevyn spat. “Well, I guess say goodbye to Nancy, Richard.”
“What!” Richard blurted, and then he felt the shudder begin in his groin and spread out like lightning through his body. His face turned to Nancy. “I love you!” he said.
And then he blinked. And Richard was no longer in control.
“Get off me,” Nevyn said from underneath a now vacant eye’d Crystal. She immediately did, getting off him and standing expressionless at the side of the bed.
Nancy watched nervously as her husband’s body got up from the bed and went to dig his phone out of the pants that he’d tossed into a corner. “Just…let him go, please,” she begged.
“I will,” Nevyn said while he initiated a video call. “After I’ve delivered a message to Derek and Bri.” He walked over to the sliding glass door and opened it.
A second later, Aubrey’s face came on the screen. “Hey Derek! Dad’s calling. Happy birthday Dad!”
Another face pushed its way onto the screen, that of a pretty redhead with lots of freckles. “Hey Dad! Happy birthday! Sorry we couldn’t be there. Mom do something special for you?”
“She took me to a hotel with a great view!” Nevyn said imitating Richard’s voice and cadence flawlessly. “Wanna see?” He turned the camera so they could see the city lights below.
“Aw, that’s nice,” Aubrey gushed. “Is she there?”
Nevyn turned the phone so they could see the body that Nancy was in. The kids, used to this, called out, “Hi mom!”
“Nevyn’s not dead,” she replied grimly. “He’s here, inside your father.”
Nevyn turned the camera back to their father’s face. He’d wiped it off its smile, and traded it for a darkened scowl directed at Nancy. “Your family really sucks at letting me have any fun.”
The twins' faces had become hardened masks.
“Leave our parents alone, Nevyn,” Derek’s voice said harshly.
“What?” Nevyn said menacingly. “The way you left me alone? The way you keep trying to track me down. I know you don’t want to lock me away somewhere. You want to kill me!”
He’d shouted those last two words, making Nancy jump.
“I know you thought you had, but I’ve learned something, unlike you two and anyone else with my gene, I can’t be killed. Isn’t that great! But I CAN be annoyed at having my plans interrupted. So I’m going to respond to your attempt on my life, by an attempt on someone you love. I just think I’ll be a little more successful. Let’s find out, shall we?”
And with that, Nevyn swung a leg over the balcony railing, and leapt off.
Screams pierced the air as Nancy rang to the edge and looked down. They came from Nancy, and from the phone that Nevyn had pulled close to Richard’s chest. He held it in such a way that when his body met the ground, the phone remained intact. Aubrey’s scream could still be heard from the speaker.
In the busy downtown district, a crowd quickly formed. Nancy watched as a man approached her husband’s body. “Don’t touch him!” she yelled, but no one on the ground could make it out.
But the twins also knew the danger and understood what would come next. “Get away from him!” Derek cried.
“Stay away!” Aubrey shouted.
But all it takes is one touch.
The man touched Richard’s arm, and immediately began to shudder as Nevyn’s soul passed from their dead father, into the stranger, who then took the phone out of Richard’s hand and held it to his face.
“If you get in my way again,” Nevyn warned. “This is how it will end for all of you.”
With that, he ended the call, and walked away past the crowd, satisfied that he’d been understood.
_______________________________________________________________________
Epilogue
65 years later.
Derek sat in the passenger seat as Stephanie drove them out of Maine. They had one more stop to make before they made the long journey to headquarters. Derek hadn’t been back there since coming into possession of the mirror. That had been for his safety, and everyone else’s. At a place filled with active bodyhoppers, the mirror was sexual napalm, and the ramifications could be catastrophic. It really said something about the current state of the world that it was worth the risk.
Stephanie had assured him that all the pieces were coming together. They finally had the means to track Nevyn after he’d created a world filled with people just like him. But if Derek could just get near him, it would all be over. The world still might not be the same, but at least, if his hypothesis was right, the body swapping everyone worldwide was experiencing would finally come to an end.
He became aware that his hand was in the bag. His fingers were running along the smooth wooden handle. It called to him.
“This isn’t going to end well, you know,” Bekka’s voice said in his head.
“I know,” Derek said aloud.
“Know what?” Stephanie asked.
“Nothing,” Derek grunted. “I just talk to myself sometimes.”
“I’ve noticed.”
Stephanie gripped the steering wheel tightly as they passed a POM security vehicle. She breathed easier after she saw it continue on its way in their rearview. She reached into her pocket and took out a phone. “It’s a burner. Untraceable. Call the saved number. Someone really wants to talk to you.”
Derek took it and fumbled with the small device with his large calloused hands. He finally found the contact, and pressed it.
It barely rang when a middle aged blonde woman appeared on the screen.
“Hi Derek,” she said with a wide smile.
Despite himself, Derek smiled back. “How’d you know it was me?”
“A mother always knows.”
He nodded. “It’s good to see you. Sorry I’ve been away so long. But I’m glad it’s finally time. Ready to help set the world right, Mom?”
“I am. All of us are ready to do whatever it takes to stop Nevyn, and we can track him now thanks to Trevor. Thanks for sending him to us by the way, he’s been really great. Like, REALLY great.”
Derek tried to keep the smile on his face, but at the sound of the shapeshifter’s name, his grip involuntarily tightened on the mirror’s handle. “You don’t have to elaborate mom, I get it. It’ll be good to see all of you soon. And to finally have justice for dad.”
To be continued in Shudder: Worldwide.
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Chapter by
AziAzi · 14 Sep 2025 -
You and your friends get invited to stay at Spooky Island, and you couldn’t help but be excited for it! Your group arrives at the island and are pleasantly surprised by what you see, unaware of the evil hiding within the island.
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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, …
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Chapter 2 in Spooky Island Adventures
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AziAzi
· 14 Sep 2025
You were freaking out, some monster had replaced Sydney... and you're not sure what to do. There aren't any return flights until the end of the week, so you have to survive till then. You want to tell your friends about this, but would they even believe you?
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