Unthoughtful Wish
Story created by
A man has intimate encounters with a Genie
magic transformation body horror
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A witch is invited to a college party and offers a special game of Beer Pong. It is a very special version of hooking up.
The silence in the room was thick enough to chew. All eyes were locked on Keisha and the impossible sight of Tai’s arms buried deep within her. Her face was a mask of pure, unadulterated fury, her body trembling not with fear, but with volcanic rage.
“Maybe I can dig it out with my other hand?” Tai offered, his voice muffled and strained from inside her.
“TAI! DON’T YOU DA—” Keisha’s command was obliterated by a guttural, choking scream as his second hand plunged in after the first, the tight ring of muscle at her entrance stretching with an audible, wet sssskkkrtch to accommodate the double intrusion. Inside, the sensation was beyond anything she could have conceived. It wasn't just a presence; it was a colonizing force. She could feel the precise shape of his fingers, the rough texture of his palms as they brushed against her most intimate internal walls, exploring, mapping her from the inside out. A hot, full pressure began to build deep in her core, a feeling of being packed, filled beyond her limits.
“Vivian,” Keisha hissed, her voice dripping with venom, every word a struggle. “There is currently a Korean man wedged shoulder deep in my anal cavity. Would you PLEASE do something about it before he explodes out through my stomach?”
Vivian’s eyes lit up with demonic glee. “Oooh, do something about it?! I thought you’d never ask!” She practically skipped behind Keisha, placing her small foot squarely on the small of Tai’s back, the only part of him still visible.
The kick wasn’t forceful, but it was decisive. With a sound like a giant cork being pulled from a bottle of thick oil, followed by a deep, resonant FWUMP, Tai’s torso was suddenly propelled inward. Keisha’s eyes shot wide, then instantly rolled back into her head, a strangled grunt the only protest she could muster as her body accepted the violation. Her glorious, sculpted ass cheeks quivered violently before clapping together with a final, wet smack, sealing Tai completely inside her. For a moment, she stood there, stunned, her body humming with the shock of the intrusion.
Then, the real transformation began.
A distinct bulge, the unmistakable outline of a man’s face, pushed against the tight, toned skin of her lower abdomen. Keisha looked down, her horror reflected in the faces of the onlookers. “Wha— what is that?” she gasped, her hands flying to the protrusion. As she touched it, the face within seemed to smile, stretching her skin grotesquely.
The rest of Tai followed in a relentless, internal avalanche. She felt him bundling into her stomach, a tangle of limbs and mass forcing her midsection to distend outward. Her flat, hard-won abs disappeared, replaced by a bloated, pregnant dome that strained her skin. Inside, it was a maelstrom. Tai, disoriented and panicked, began to thrash. His knees jerked, and Keisha’s legs buckled involuntarily. His elbows flailed, and her arms spasmed at her sides. She stumbled, a marionette with a frantic puppeteer trapped inside her, emitting a series of choked yelps and moans with every involuntary movement.
“You said you were going to help!” Keisha accused Vivian, her voice wavering as she struggled to remain upright.
Vivian just blinked. “I did help you. Is he still stuck?”
Keisha’s mental struggle was a silent scream in a dissolving prison. My body! This is MY body! she thought, a mantra of defiance. But with every thrash, Tai’s consciousness seeped into her nerves, his confusion and panic becoming her own. She felt his legs, strong and muscular, sliding into the length of her own. It was a horrifying, stretching sensation, like her bones were being remolded. Her thighs, already powerful, gained a new, thicker solidity. Her calves tightened. And then, with a final, psychic click, control of her legs was severed from her brain and handed over to his. He was in charge of moving them now.
The loss of autonomy was more terrifying than the physical invasion. She tried to command her legs to step forward, but they remained rooted. Instead, Tai, blindly seeking leverage, forced them to collapse.
She fell backward, her enormous new ass—now the seat of his consciousness—thudding onto the carpet with a jiggle that sent a shockwave through her frame. The impact seemed to energize him. Using the new-found anchor of her lower body, he began to push upward, trying to climb out of the fleshy well of her torso.
Keisha’s upper body was dragged across the floor, her back arching, her head lolling. She was a passenger, forced to feel every graze of the carpet, every powerful, uncoordinated jerk. Next, his arms slipped into hers. The feeling was one of overwhelming fullness; her biceps and forearms thickened, gaining a lean, wiry strength that was entirely his. Her hands, once her own, now felt alien, their movements his impulses.
The final assault was on her head. The bulging face in her stomach began its ascent, tunneling up through her organs, a relentless pressure moving up her diaphragm, between her lungs, pushing her breasts aside. She could feel the shape of his nose, his lips, his brow ridge moving up through her core. Her neck distended, a grotesque balloon animal version of itself as his head forced its way into the column. She arched her back, a final, desperate attempt to keep her own head above the rising tide of him, her eyes locking with Vivian’s in a final promise of vengeance.
“Remember, bitch. I WILL get you back for this.”
It was her last coherent thought. His skull pressed up against the base of her own, and with a final, full-body spasm that was entirely his doing, he merged. It was like a key turning in a lock. Her consciousness didn’t vanish; it was simply… submerged, pushed into a tiny, dark corner of her own mind. She was aware, but she was no longer in control. She could only watch, a ghost in her own machine, as her eyes—his eyes now—snapped open.
“Holy shit, was that a ride!” The voice that came from her mouth was Tai’s—his cadence, his excited pitch—but filtered through Keisha’s softer vocal cords, creating a strange, androgynous sound. He sat up, using her hands to grab a fistful of her own wispy raven hair, his amazement palpable. “Thank god I landed on this bean bag when I fell though, I’d hate to damage the goods before I got to sample them!” He chuckled, patting the generous curve of her ass beneath him.
From the corner, Danny, still lounging on the actual beanbag, piped up. “But dude, I’m on the bean bag! You didn’t land on anything bro. That’s just Keisha’s…”
A look of dawning, ecstatic comprehension spread across Keisha’s features—Tai’s expressions now. “OH SWEET MOSES!” he exclaimed, the voice a perfect blend of his shock and her tone. He scrambled to his feet—her feet—with an agility that was all his. His hands, her hands, flew to the monumental cheeks he’d just been sitting on, groping and kneading the flesh with ravenous disbelief.
The sensation was double-layered: Tai’s euphoric discovery and, buried deep within, Keisha’s mortified, screaming silence as she felt her own hands violating her in ways she never had. He shook his—their—hips, watching in a nearby reflective surface as the jiggle propagated in a wave of mesmerizing motion.
“Is this what she feels ALL THE TIME!” he whooped, his laughter echoing in the silent, stunned room. Inside, Keisha fought, a desperate mental push against a wall of overwhelming control. She tried to scream, to regain a muscle, but was pulled into Tai. She was no longer separate but now a part of Tai. Her body was no longer hers. It was now Taisha’s. And Taisha was thrilled.
The silence in the room was thick enough to chew. All eyes were locked on Keisha and the impossible sight of Tai’s arms buried deep within her. Her face was a mask of pure, unadulterated fury, her body trembling not with fear, but with volcanic rage.
“Maybe I can dig it out with my other hand?” Tai offered, his voice muffled and strained from inside her.
“TAI! DON’T YOU DA—” Keisha’s command was obliterated by a guttural, choking scream as his second hand plunged in after the first, the tight ring of muscle at her entrance stretching with an audible, wet sssskkkrtch to accommodate the double intrusion. Inside, the sensation was beyond anything she could have conceived. It wasn't just a presence; it was a colonizing force. She could feel the precise shape of his fingers, the rough texture of his palms as they brushed against her most intimate internal walls, exploring, mapping her from the inside out. A hot, full pressure began to build deep in her core, a feeling of being packed, filled beyond her limits.
“Vivian,” Keisha hissed, her voice dripping with venom, every word a struggle. “There is currently a Korean man wedged shoulder deep in my anal cavity. Would you PLEASE do something about it before he explodes out through my stomach?”
Vivian’s eyes lit up with demonic glee. “Oooh, do something about it?! I thought you’d never ask!” She practically skipped behind Keisha, placing her small foot squarely on the small of Tai’s back, the only part of him still visible.
The kick wasn’t forceful, but it was decisive. With a sound like a giant cork being pulled from a bottle of thick oil, followed by a deep, resonant FWUMP, Tai’s torso was suddenly propelled inward. Keisha’s eyes shot wide, then instantly rolled back into her head, a strangled grunt the only protest she could muster as her body accepted the violation. Her glorious, sculpted ass cheeks quivered violently before clapping together with a final, wet smack, sealing Tai completely inside her. For a moment, she stood there, stunned, her body humming with the shock of the intrusion.
Then, the real transformation began.
A distinct bulge, the unmistakable outline of a man’s face, pushed against the tight, toned skin of her lower abdomen. Keisha looked down, her horror reflected in the faces of the onlookers. “Wha— what is that?” she gasped, her hands flying to the protrusion. As she touched it, the face within seemed to smile, stretching her skin grotesquely.
The rest of Tai followed in a relentless, internal avalanche. She felt him bundling into her stomach, a tangle of limbs and mass forcing her midsection to distend outward. Her flat, hard-won abs disappeared, replaced by a bloated, pregnant dome that strained her skin. Inside, it was a maelstrom. Tai, disoriented and panicked, began to thrash. His knees jerked, and Keisha’s legs buckled involuntarily. His elbows flailed, and her arms spasmed at her sides. She stumbled, a marionette with a frantic puppeteer trapped inside her, emitting a series of choked yelps and moans with every involuntary movement.
“You said you were going to help!” Keisha accused Vivian, her voice wavering as she struggled to remain upright.
Vivian just blinked. “I did help you. Is he still stuck?”
Keisha’s mental struggle was a silent scream in a dissolving prison. My body! This is MY body! she thought, a mantra of defiance. But with every thrash, Tai’s consciousness seeped into her nerves, his confusion and panic becoming her own. She felt his legs, strong and muscular, sliding into the length of her own. It was a horrifying, stretching sensation, like her bones were being remolded. Her thighs, already powerful, gained a new, thicker solidity. Her calves tightened. And then, with a final, psychic click, control of her legs was severed from her brain and handed over to his. He was in charge of moving them now.
The loss of autonomy was more terrifying than the physical invasion. She tried to command her legs to step forward, but they remained rooted. Instead, Tai, blindly seeking leverage, forced them to collapse.
She fell backward, her enormous new ass—now the seat of his consciousness—thudding onto the carpet with a jiggle that sent a shockwave through her frame. The impact seemed to energize him. Using the new-found anchor of her lower body, he began to push upward, trying to climb out of the fleshy well of her torso.
Keisha’s upper body was dragged across the floor, her back arching, her head lolling. She was a passenger, forced to feel every graze of the carpet, every powerful, uncoordinated jerk. Next, his arms slipped into hers. The feeling was one of overwhelming fullness; her biceps and forearms thickened, gaining a lean, wiry strength that was entirely his. Her hands, once her own, now felt alien, their movements his impulses.
The final assault was on her head. The bulging face in her stomach began its ascent, tunneling up through her organs, a relentless pressure moving up her diaphragm, between her lungs, pushing her breasts aside. She could feel the shape of his nose, his lips, his brow ridge moving up through her core. Her neck distended, a grotesque balloon animal version of itself as his head forced its way into the column. She arched her back, a final, desperate attempt to keep her own head above the rising tide of him, her eyes locking with Vivian’s in a final promise of vengeance.
“Remember, bitch. I WILL get you back for this.”
It was her last coherent thought. His skull pressed up against the base of her own, and with a final, full-body spasm that was entirely his doing, he merged. It was like a key turning in a lock. Her consciousness didn’t vanish; it was simply… submerged, pushed into a tiny, dark corner of her own mind. She was aware, but she was no longer in control. She could only watch, a ghost in her own machine, as her eyes—his eyes now—snapped open.
“Holy shit, was that a ride!” The voice that came from her mouth was Tai’s—his cadence, his excited pitch—but filtered through Keisha’s softer vocal cords, creating a strange, androgynous sound. He sat up, using her hands to grab a fistful of her own wispy raven hair, his amazement palpable. “Thank god I landed on this bean bag when I fell though, I’d hate to damage the goods before I got to sample them!” He chuckled, patting the generous curve of her ass beneath him.
From the corner, Danny, still lounging on the actual beanbag, piped up. “But dude, I’m on the bean bag! You didn’t land on anything bro. That’s just Keisha’s…”
A look of dawning, ecstatic comprehension spread across Keisha’s features—Tai’s expressions now. “OH SWEET MOSES!” he exclaimed, the voice a perfect blend of his shock and her tone. He scrambled to his feet—her feet—with an agility that was all his. His hands, her hands, flew to the monumental cheeks he’d just been sitting on, groping and kneading the flesh with ravenous disbelief.
The sensation was double-layered: Tai’s euphoric discovery and, buried deep within, Keisha’s mortified, screaming silence as she felt her own hands violating her in ways she never had. He shook his—their—hips, watching in a nearby reflective surface as the jiggle propagated in a wave of mesmerizing motion.
“Is this what she feels ALL THE TIME!” he whooped, his laughter echoing in the silent, stunned room. Inside, Keisha fought, a desperate mental push against a wall of overwhelming control. She tried to scream, to regain a muscle, but was pulled into Tai. She was no longer separate but now a part of Tai. Her body was no longer hers. It was now Taisha’s. And Taisha was thrilled.
Stacey and her team are chosen to fight an alien invasion
It all started during what should’ve been just another grueling practice session under the sweltering Texas sun. Sweat stung my eyes, and my muscles screamed in protest with every high kick and flip. I was Stacey Robinson, head cheerleader of the Northwood Wildcats, and we were running the pyramid sequence for what felt like the hundredth time.
That’s when the sky tore open.
Not with a crack of thunder, but with a soft, shimmering hum. A light, gentle as a sunbeam, descended, and out stepped a figure that looked less like an alien invader and more like a yoga instructor from a high-end spa. He was tall, slender, with skin that shimmered like mother-of-pearl and eyes the color of a calm sea. He introduced himself as Nagai, an emissary from a distant star.
“Stacey Robinson,” he said, his voice like a melody. “Your world is in grave, albeit peculiar, danger.”
We all just stared, too shocked to even drop our pom-poms.
He explained that an ancient cosmic ruler, a being of immense vanity and twisted ideals, was approaching Earth. Her name was Queen Adiposa, and her goal was to impose her own standard of beauty upon the universe: to make fat not just acceptable, but the only form of beauty, eradicating all others. Her method? A wave of transformative energy, preceded by an army of minions who looked… well, like unnaturally enthusiastic Planet Fitness trainers in their purple and yellow uniforms, forever chanting about “no judgement.”
“Your spirit, your power, your unity,” Nagai said, his gaze sweeping over my team—Chloe, Hannah, Zoe, Maya, and Brianna. “You six are the only ones who can stop her. You will become my champions. The Supersonic Pussy Rangers.”
We glanced at each other. The name was ridiculous. The situation was insane. But the look in Nagai’s eyes was dead serious.
A wave of his hand, and a flash of light enveloped us. I felt a surge of power, a buzzing energy that settled deep in my core. When the light faded, we were all clad in skintight suits. Mine was a vibrant, commanding red. Chloe got pink, Hannah yellow, Zoe a deep purple, and Maya a cool aqua. And then there was Brianna.
Brianna, already the bustiest of us by a mile, was… naked. But not just naked. Her suit was a shimmering, barely-there layer of light that did nothing to conceal her incredible figure. Nagai hadn’t been kidding about the name. Her breasts were so magnificently large, so breathtakingly full, they truly looked like they could swallow a person’s head whole.
“Your power will manifest when you face your enemy,” Nagai said, just as the ground shook.
Our first monster arrived. It was a hulking beast made of what looked like lumpy, pink flesh, with a single massive eye and a microphone headset. It was flanked by a dozen of those smiling, clapping Planet Fitness minions. “Let’s get this party started! No lunkheads, just gains!” one of them chirped.
We fought. It was chaos. We moved with a speed and strength we never knew we had, our colored suits leaving streaks of light in the air. We kicked and punched, our movements synchronized from years of practice, now amplified into something superhuman. We finally took the monster down with a combined energy blast.
But it wasn’t over. The fallen monster began to glow, its body reassembling and swelling, growing taller and taller until it loomed over the school, a five-story tall abomination of jiggling fat and distorted fitness enthusiasm.
“Now, Stacey!” Nagai’s voice echoed in my mind. “It is time!”
A belt of gleaming silver and red, engraved with strange symbols, appeared in his hands. He tossed it to me. I caught it, and without thinking, I slapped it around my waist. A click, a hum, and then… silence.
The world froze. The monster was a statue mid-roar. The minions were frozen in their mindless clapping. My team hovered in the air around me, their eyes glazed over, caught in Nagai’s powerful stasis.
I was lifted into the air. Chloe (Pink) and Zoe (Purple) floated toward me in a dreamlike daze. My legs, guided by an unseen force, slipped into their open mouths. I felt no resistance, only a warm, incredible pressure as my feet slid down, down, coming to rest deep within their stomachs. It was the strangest, most intimate sensation I’d ever felt.
Next, Hannah (Yellow) and Maya (Aqua) drifted over. My arms entered them, sinking into their bodies through their backsides up to just below my elbows. Their legs unwound themselves and wrapped tightly around my torso, locking into place. I could feel the muscles in their thighs tense against my sides.
Finally, Brianna—Naked—floated toward my chest. She pressed against me, her incredible softness moulding to my form. She wrapped her arms and legs around my own, locking us together, and then let her head fall forward, completely vanishing between the immense, soft pillows of her own breasts, pressed firmly against my chest.
I dropped back to the ground, the impact jolting through me. I could feel Brianna’s body on my front, her breasts bouncing with the landing. I tentatively tried to move.
I thought, step forward.
The movement came, but it wasn’t just my leg. It was Chloe’s and then Zoe’s legs moving in perfect unison with me, their bodies moving as extensions of my own. I was controlling them. I was them. I lifted my arms, and saw Hannah and Maya’s arms mirror the movement perfectly.
“This is your Megazord form,” Nagai’s voice explained, sound returning to my private bubble of time. “You are the core. You command their bodies as your own limbs. They will remember none of this. To release them, you must defeat the enemy. When it is weakened, you must yell ‘FINISHER!’.”
I practiced. A step became a mighty stomp from four powerful legs. A punch became a devastating blow from four clenched fists. The power was dizzying. I felt the distinct sensations from each of my teammates—the sleek strength of Chloe, the flexible power of Zoe, the explosive energy of Hannah, the steady grace of Maya, and the overwhelming, soft warmth of Brianna pressed against me.
“Now, Stacey,” Nagai said. “Finish it.”
Time slammed back into motion with a roar.
The giant monster swung a fist the size of a car at me. I—we—blocked it with a forearm, the impact resonating through our combined bodies. We fought, a giantess of flesh and power against a monster of fat. We were faster, stronger, unified. With a series of powerful blows, we weakened it, until it staggered, dizzy and disoriented.
Now.
I took a deep breath, the motion causing Brianna’s chest to rise and fall against mine.
“FINISHER!” I yelled, my voice echoing with the combined power of six girls.
We leaped, a phenomenal jump that carried our combined form high into the air. We twisted, aiming ourselves downward. The monster looked up, its single eye wide with confusion.
We came down on its head, not on its body.
We landed perfectly, with the soft, warm heart of our formation—Brianna—coming to rest directly over the monster’s head. It let out a muffled, gurgled roar, its head completely smothered, suffocated between the immense, world-encompassing softness of her vagina. It struggled for a moment, then fell still, beginning to dissolve into harmless pink mist.
The belt on my waist clicked. The world dissolved in another flash of light, and I was standing alone, back in my red ranger suit. My team stood around me, blinking, stretching.
“Whoa, did we do it?” Chloe asked, looking at the fading pink mist. “I blacked out for a second there. What a rush!”
They remembered nothing. But I remembered everything. The feeling of their bodies as my own. The incredible, intimate power.
And I knew, with a thrilling certainty that shot right through me, that this was only the beginning. Queen Adiposa would send more monsters. And each time, we would combine. Each time, I would feel that connection, that control.
And each time, I would make my teammates more… mine.
It all started during what should’ve been just another grueling practice session under the sweltering Texas sun. Sweat stung my eyes, and my muscles screamed in protest with every high kick and flip. I was Stacey Robinson, head cheerleader of the Northwood Wildcats, and we were running the pyramid sequence for what felt like the hundredth time.
That’s when the sky tore open.
Not with a crack of thunder, but with a soft, shimmering hum. A light, gentle as a sunbeam, descended, and out stepped a figure that looked less like an alien invader and more like a yoga instructor from a high-end spa. He was tall, slender, with skin that shimmered like mother-of-pearl and eyes the color of a calm sea. He introduced himself as Nagai, an emissary from a distant star.
“Stacey Robinson,” he said, his voice like a melody. “Your world is in grave, albeit peculiar, danger.”
We all just stared, too shocked to even drop our pom-poms.
He explained that an ancient cosmic ruler, a being of immense vanity and twisted ideals, was approaching Earth. Her name was Queen Adiposa, and her goal was to impose her own standard of beauty upon the universe: to make fat not just acceptable, but the only form of beauty, eradicating all others. Her method? A wave of transformative energy, preceded by an army of minions who looked… well, like unnaturally enthusiastic Planet Fitness trainers in their purple and yellow uniforms, forever chanting about “no judgement.”
“Your spirit, your power, your unity,” Nagai said, his gaze sweeping over my team—Chloe, Hannah, Zoe, Maya, and Brianna. “You six are the only ones who can stop her. You will become my champions. The Supersonic Pussy Rangers.”
We glanced at each other. The name was ridiculous. The situation was insane. But the look in Nagai’s eyes was dead serious.
A wave of his hand, and a flash of light enveloped us. I felt a surge of power, a buzzing energy that settled deep in my core. When the light faded, we were all clad in skintight suits. Mine was a vibrant, commanding red. Chloe got pink, Hannah yellow, Zoe a deep purple, and Maya a cool aqua. And then there was Brianna.
Brianna, already the bustiest of us by a mile, was… naked. But not just naked. Her suit was a shimmering, barely-there layer of light that did nothing to conceal her incredible figure. Nagai hadn’t been kidding about the name. Her breasts were so magnificently large, so breathtakingly full, they truly looked like they could swallow a person’s head whole.
“Your power will manifest when you face your enemy,” Nagai said, just as the ground shook.
Our first monster arrived. It was a hulking beast made of what looked like lumpy, pink flesh, with a single massive eye and a microphone headset. It was flanked by a dozen of those smiling, clapping Planet Fitness minions. “Let’s get this party started! No lunkheads, just gains!” one of them chirped.
We fought. It was chaos. We moved with a speed and strength we never knew we had, our colored suits leaving streaks of light in the air. We kicked and punched, our movements synchronized from years of practice, now amplified into something superhuman. We finally took the monster down with a combined energy blast.
But it wasn’t over. The fallen monster began to glow, its body reassembling and swelling, growing taller and taller until it loomed over the school, a five-story tall abomination of jiggling fat and distorted fitness enthusiasm.
“Now, Stacey!” Nagai’s voice echoed in my mind. “It is time!”
A belt of gleaming silver and red, engraved with strange symbols, appeared in his hands. He tossed it to me. I caught it, and without thinking, I slapped it around my waist. A click, a hum, and then… silence.
The world froze. The monster was a statue mid-roar. The minions were frozen in their mindless clapping. My team hovered in the air around me, their eyes glazed over, caught in Nagai’s powerful stasis.
I was lifted into the air. Chloe (Pink) and Zoe (Purple) floated toward me in a dreamlike daze. My legs, guided by an unseen force, slipped into their open mouths. I felt no resistance, only a warm, incredible pressure as my feet slid down, down, coming to rest deep within their stomachs. It was the strangest, most intimate sensation I’d ever felt.
Next, Hannah (Yellow) and Maya (Aqua) drifted over. My arms entered them, sinking into their bodies through their backsides up to just below my elbows. Their legs unwound themselves and wrapped tightly around my torso, locking into place. I could feel the muscles in their thighs tense against my sides.
Finally, Brianna—Naked—floated toward my chest. She pressed against me, her incredible softness moulding to my form. She wrapped her arms and legs around my own, locking us together, and then let her head fall forward, completely vanishing between the immense, soft pillows of her own breasts, pressed firmly against my chest.
I dropped back to the ground, the impact jolting through me. I could feel Brianna’s body on my front, her breasts bouncing with the landing. I tentatively tried to move.
I thought, step forward.
The movement came, but it wasn’t just my leg. It was Chloe’s and then Zoe’s legs moving in perfect unison with me, their bodies moving as extensions of my own. I was controlling them. I was them. I lifted my arms, and saw Hannah and Maya’s arms mirror the movement perfectly.
“This is your Megazord form,” Nagai’s voice explained, sound returning to my private bubble of time. “You are the core. You command their bodies as your own limbs. They will remember none of this. To release them, you must defeat the enemy. When it is weakened, you must yell ‘FINISHER!’.”
I practiced. A step became a mighty stomp from four powerful legs. A punch became a devastating blow from four clenched fists. The power was dizzying. I felt the distinct sensations from each of my teammates—the sleek strength of Chloe, the flexible power of Zoe, the explosive energy of Hannah, the steady grace of Maya, and the overwhelming, soft warmth of Brianna pressed against me.
“Now, Stacey,” Nagai said. “Finish it.”
Time slammed back into motion with a roar.
The giant monster swung a fist the size of a car at me. I—we—blocked it with a forearm, the impact resonating through our combined bodies. We fought, a giantess of flesh and power against a monster of fat. We were faster, stronger, unified. With a series of powerful blows, we weakened it, until it staggered, dizzy and disoriented.
Now.
I took a deep breath, the motion causing Brianna’s chest to rise and fall against mine.
“FINISHER!” I yelled, my voice echoing with the combined power of six girls.
We leaped, a phenomenal jump that carried our combined form high into the air. We twisted, aiming ourselves downward. The monster looked up, its single eye wide with confusion.
We came down on its head, not on its body.
We landed perfectly, with the soft, warm heart of our formation—Brianna—coming to rest directly over the monster’s head. It let out a muffled, gurgled roar, its head completely smothered, suffocated between the immense, world-encompassing softness of her vagina. It struggled for a moment, then fell still, beginning to dissolve into harmless pink mist.
The belt on my waist clicked. The world dissolved in another flash of light, and I was standing alone, back in my red ranger suit. My team stood around me, blinking, stretching.
“Whoa, did we do it?” Chloe asked, looking at the fading pink mist. “I blacked out for a second there. What a rush!”
They remembered nothing. But I remembered everything. The feeling of their bodies as my own. The incredible, intimate power.
And I knew, with a thrilling certainty that shot right through me, that this was only the beginning. Queen Adiposa would send more monsters. And each time, we would combine. Each time, I would feel that connection, that control.
And each time, I would make my teammates more… mine.
a story about dekubaku where izuku is an enigma(it's a status like omega or alpha, extremely rare and unknown though) who has the ability to mix his slick into katsuki's food and turn the alpha into an omega, katsuki loves izuku's yandere side and it takes time for the slick to change katsuki, multiple doses in fact, katsuki's confused, but also had always believed that being an alpha wasn't right for him (he is under the impression that izuku is an alpha and katsuki has always had a crush on him) izuku's slick is addictive and katsuki can't identify it
The aroma of katsudon filled the common room, a familiar comfort that did little to soothe the uneasy twist in my gut. It had been three weeks since Deku started this… this ritual. Every other day, without fail, he’d slide a bowl of something he’d cooked just for me across the table with that unnervingly serene smile.
“You’ve been training hard, Kacchan,” he’d say, his voice soft, his green eyes holding a light that was both adoring and predatory. “You need to keep your strength up.”
And I, like a fool, ate it. Every time. Because it was Deku. And because whatever he put in that food…
It started subtly. A strange, phantom sweetness on my tongue that lingered long after I’d finished eating, a flavor I couldn't place but found myself craving at odd hours. Then came the dreams—vivid, disorienting things where scents were sharper and my own body felt alien. I’d wake up tangled in my sheets, skin buzzing, the ghost of that sweetness clinging to the back of my throat.
Tonight was no different. He’d made curry, rich and spicy, but underneath the heat was that note again. Metallic, yet floral. Like rain on hot pavement and something… alive.
“Is it good, Kacchan?” Deku asked, chin resting on his hands as he watched me from the other side of the table. His gaze was intense, unwavering. Most people found Deku’s stare unnerving, but I… I loved it. I loved the possessiveness in it, the sheer, unadulterated focus. It made my alpha instincts bristle on the surface, a low growl building in my chest, but deep down, something else hummed in satisfaction. No one else existed in those moments. It was just me and him.
“It’s fine,” I grunted, shoveling another spoonful into my mouth, my own eagerness embarrassing me. My body was betraying me, yearning for the food with an addict's desperation. “Don’t you have your own bowl?”
“I ate earlier,” he murmured, his smile widening just a fraction. “I prefer watching you.”
A shiver, hot and cold at once, raced down my spine. Fuck. Why did that make my heart pound? An alpha shouldn’t… shouldn’t relish being watched like a prize. But I did. I always had. Ever since we were kids, Deku’s obsessive attention had been the one constant, the one thing that felt unequivocally mine.
Later, back in my room, the confusion hit harder. I was pacing, restless. My skin felt too tight. My usual aggressive, dominating scent—explosive and smoky—seemed… off. Softer around the edges. I caught a whiff of myself and frowned. It was still alpha, unmistakably, but there was an undertone. Something almost… sweet.
I slammed my fist against the wall, the impact jolting up my arm. What the hell was happening to me? I thought of Deku. Always Deku. I’d spent my whole life thinking he was a latent alpha, one who’d present someday and finally be a rival worth my time. But he never did. Instead, he became this… enigma. No designation anyone had ever heard of. And he was stronger than me, now. He watched me with that terrifying, loving gaze that promised I would always be his.
And I fucking adored it.
A knock at my door, soft but insistent, broke me from my thoughts. I knew who it was before I opened it.
Deku stood there, holding a small glass of milk. “For the spice,” he said, his eyes gleaming in the dim hallway light. “I thought it might have been too much for you.”
It was a lie. A flimsy, transparent lie. The curry hadn’t been that spicy. But I took the glass. Our fingers brushed, and a jolt, electric and warm, shot through my hand. His scent washed over me—not alpha, not omega. It was that elusive, intoxicating aroma from the food, but purer, more potent. Ozone and damp earth. The scent of a storm about to break.
I drank the milk. It was cold, but it did nothing to quench the strange heat simmering under my skin. The sweetness was there again, stronger now, coating my throat.
“Thank you, Deku,” I muttered, unable to meet his eyes. I felt weak. Vulnerable. Alpha instincts screamed at me to assert dominance, to shove him away, to prove my strength. But a newer, quieter part of me just wanted to lean into the warmth of his presence.
He didn’t leave. He stepped forward, into my space, his hand coming up to gently touch my cheek. His thumb stroked just below my eye. “You look tired, Kacchan. You should rest.”
His touch was incendiary. My breath hitched. This was wrong. This wasn't how an alpha reacted to another… whatever he was. We were supposed to be rivals, fighting for the top. Not this… this quiet intimacy that felt more like a claiming.
“What are you doing to me?” The question slipped out, choked and quiet, stripped of all my usual bravado.
Deku’s smile was a beautiful, dangerous thing. Full of love and madness. “I’m taking care of you, Kacchan. Like I always have. Like I always will.”
He leaned in, and for a heart-stopping moment, I thought he was going to kiss me. Instead, his lips brushed my ear, his whisper a secret promise. “You’ve never been just an alpha. You’re so much more. And soon, you’ll see it too.”
He pulled away, leaving me standing there, clutching the empty glass, my body humming with a foreign need and my mind reeling. The door clicked shut, and I was alone with the ghost of his scent and the creeping, terrifying, exhilarating realization that the foundation of everything I thought I was—an alpha, a hero, a rival—was slowly, sweetly, being dismantled by the one person I'd never been able to let go.
The aroma of katsudon filled the common room, a familiar comfort that did little to soothe the uneasy twist in my gut. It had been three weeks since Deku started this… this ritual. Every other day, without fail, he’d slide a bowl of something he’d cooked just for me across the table with that unnervingly serene smile.
“You’ve been training hard, Kacchan,” he’d say, his voice soft, his green eyes holding a light that was both adoring and predatory. “You need to keep your strength up.”
And I, like a fool, ate it. Every time. Because it was Deku. And because whatever he put in that food…
It started subtly. A strange, phantom sweetness on my tongue that lingered long after I’d finished eating, a flavor I couldn't place but found myself craving at odd hours. Then came the dreams—vivid, disorienting things where scents were sharper and my own body felt alien. I’d wake up tangled in my sheets, skin buzzing, the ghost of that sweetness clinging to the back of my throat.
Tonight was no different. He’d made curry, rich and spicy, but underneath the heat was that note again. Metallic, yet floral. Like rain on hot pavement and something… alive.
“Is it good, Kacchan?” Deku asked, chin resting on his hands as he watched me from the other side of the table. His gaze was intense, unwavering. Most people found Deku’s stare unnerving, but I… I loved it. I loved the possessiveness in it, the sheer, unadulterated focus. It made my alpha instincts bristle on the surface, a low growl building in my chest, but deep down, something else hummed in satisfaction. No one else existed in those moments. It was just me and him.
“It’s fine,” I grunted, shoveling another spoonful into my mouth, my own eagerness embarrassing me. My body was betraying me, yearning for the food with an addict's desperation. “Don’t you have your own bowl?”
“I ate earlier,” he murmured, his smile widening just a fraction. “I prefer watching you.”
A shiver, hot and cold at once, raced down my spine. Fuck. Why did that make my heart pound? An alpha shouldn’t… shouldn’t relish being watched like a prize. But I did. I always had. Ever since we were kids, Deku’s obsessive attention had been the one constant, the one thing that felt unequivocally mine.
Later, back in my room, the confusion hit harder. I was pacing, restless. My skin felt too tight. My usual aggressive, dominating scent—explosive and smoky—seemed… off. Softer around the edges. I caught a whiff of myself and frowned. It was still alpha, unmistakably, but there was an undertone. Something almost… sweet.
I slammed my fist against the wall, the impact jolting up my arm. What the hell was happening to me? I thought of Deku. Always Deku. I’d spent my whole life thinking he was a latent alpha, one who’d present someday and finally be a rival worth my time. But he never did. Instead, he became this… enigma. No designation anyone had ever heard of. And he was stronger than me, now. He watched me with that terrifying, loving gaze that promised I would always be his.
And I fucking adored it.
A knock at my door, soft but insistent, broke me from my thoughts. I knew who it was before I opened it.
Deku stood there, holding a small glass of milk. “For the spice,” he said, his eyes gleaming in the dim hallway light. “I thought it might have been too much for you.”
It was a lie. A flimsy, transparent lie. The curry hadn’t been that spicy. But I took the glass. Our fingers brushed, and a jolt, electric and warm, shot through my hand. His scent washed over me—not alpha, not omega. It was that elusive, intoxicating aroma from the food, but purer, more potent. Ozone and damp earth. The scent of a storm about to break.
I drank the milk. It was cold, but it did nothing to quench the strange heat simmering under my skin. The sweetness was there again, stronger now, coating my throat.
“Thank you, Deku,” I muttered, unable to meet his eyes. I felt weak. Vulnerable. Alpha instincts screamed at me to assert dominance, to shove him away, to prove my strength. But a newer, quieter part of me just wanted to lean into the warmth of his presence.
He didn’t leave. He stepped forward, into my space, his hand coming up to gently touch my cheek. His thumb stroked just below my eye. “You look tired, Kacchan. You should rest.”
His touch was incendiary. My breath hitched. This was wrong. This wasn't how an alpha reacted to another… whatever he was. We were supposed to be rivals, fighting for the top. Not this… this quiet intimacy that felt more like a claiming.
“What are you doing to me?” The question slipped out, choked and quiet, stripped of all my usual bravado.
Deku’s smile was a beautiful, dangerous thing. Full of love and madness. “I’m taking care of you, Kacchan. Like I always have. Like I always will.”
He leaned in, and for a heart-stopping moment, I thought he was going to kiss me. Instead, his lips brushed my ear, his whisper a secret promise. “You’ve never been just an alpha. You’re so much more. And soon, you’ll see it too.”
He pulled away, leaving me standing there, clutching the empty glass, my body humming with a foreign need and my mind reeling. The door clicked shut, and I was alone with the ghost of his scent and the creeping, terrifying, exhilarating realization that the foundation of everything I thought I was—an alpha, a hero, a rival—was slowly, sweetly, being dismantled by the one person I'd never been able to let go.
When Philip and Jack are given the challenge of going on a panty raid through the sorority next door to secure their place as pledges at Delta Epsilon, Philip's heart sinks.
With the sorority girls having already taken well known countermeasures to deal with any would be panty thieves, he thinks the chances of completing the challenge are near zero.
However, when his best friend Jack claims to have a plan involving a little magic and burrowing the bodies of his crush Vanessa and her roommate Katy, he knows he is in for a long night ahead when things don't exactly end up going to plan...
Note: This is a commissioned work that has not been personally written by me. I have been granted permission to distribute and share the story by the original author.
The floor of Delta Epsilon’s house was sticky.
Beer, cheap cologne, and stale pizza had seeped into the carpet like a second skin, and Philip had the honor of scrubbing it clean while half a dozen brothers lounged on couches watching basketball highlights.
“Missed a spot,” one of them called, deliberately tilting a red Solo cup so that the last of his drink bled out onto the carpet inches from Philip’s sponge.
Philip clenched his jaw. He’d been degraded all semester, fetching fast food at three in the morning, running errands that skirted the edge of being criminal, serving as human furniture during drinking games. He told himself it would be worth it. Delta Epsilon’s parties were legendary, the kind of place girls lined up to get into. More importantly, alumni connections meant a shot at internships that led to real careers. You suffered now, you cashed in later.
Jack, naturally, thrived. He was perched on the arm of a sofa, balancing a tray of wings for two seniors, grinning like the humiliation was a party of its own.
“How’s that knee grease holding up, Phil?” he teased, eyebrows bouncing. Philip muttered something under his breath, pressing the sponge hard enough to leave his knuckles white. He’d thought pledging with his best friend would make things easier. Instead, Jack’s bottomless energy only made Philip feel like the boring one, always one step away from quitting.
The pledge master, Trent, finally called them over once the brothers had eaten their fill.
“You’ve made it further than many,” he said, addressing both Philip and Jack while tapping the ash off his cigar. “Scrubbing toilets, babysitting drunk brothers, taking whatever punishment we throw at you, you did it all without complaint. But Delta doesn’t hand out membership for free. There’s one last hurdle.”
Jack’s eyes lit up, while Philip felt his stomach knot. Trent leaned forward. “You’ve got until Saturday morning to bring us proof that you’re worthy of being Delta Epsilons. And by proof, I mean the underwear of one of the Theta sisters across the street.”
A ripple of laughter passed through the room. Someone whistled. Another shouted, “Better hope they’re lace!”
Philip’s face burned hot. He’d expected something brutal. A dangerous stunt, or maybe even a tattoo or branding, not…this. Not something that felt like the set-up to a police record for being a creep.
Jack, of course, grinned like he’d just been handed a golden ticket. “Piece of cake,” he said.
“Piece of felony,” Philip muttered.
Trent ignored the comment. “You get caught, that’s your problem. Theta girls are sick of pranks. They’ll eat you alive if they catch you sneaking around. Fail, and you’ll have to re-pledge next semester, if we even let you back in. Succeed, and you’ll be full brothers by sunrise.”
He flicked his cigar ash into an empty beer can, and the matter was closed. Philip and Jack were dismissed like servants, slipping out into the cool night air. The frat house behind them thumped with bass as the next round of drinking games began.
Across the street, the Theta house glowed with warm yellow light, its windows alive with the silhouettes of girls laughing, moving and living in a world that felt forbidden.
Philip shoved his hands into his hoodie pocket. “This is insane. They want us to break into a sorority house. Forget expulsion, that’s actual jail time if we’re caught and reported.”
Jack slung an arm around his shoulder, grinning as if he hadn’t heard a word. “Come on, man. It’s tradition. Everybody who ever wore Delta letters has done something crazy like this. We’ll figure it out. We always do.”
Philip shrugged him off. “You mean you’ll figure it out. And drag me with you.”
Jack’s grin widened. “Exactly. Don’t worry, I’ve got a plan.” That phrase, I’ve got a plan, was the single most dangerous thing Jack could say. Philip knew better, but as he stared up at the Theta house, he couldn’t shake the truth. They’d come too far to back out now.
Philip assumed Jack’s “plan” would be something stupid but doable. Like sneaking into the Theta laundry room, bribing a janitor, or maybe finessing a stolen bra from lost-and-found.
What he didn’t expect, as their deadline creeped ever closer, was Jack pulling a battered paperback out of his backpack like he’d just smuggled the Necronomicon out of the library and declaring their troubles were about to be a thing of the past.
“What is that?” Philip asked, eyeing the faded title embossed with moons and symbols.
“Wiccan Rites and Rituals of the Body,” Jack said with a grin so wide it could split his face. “This baby is going to get us in.”
Philip stared. “That’s not a plan you idiot. That’s…props from a bad horror movie.”
“Correction,” Jack said, flipping through pages until he landed on one marked with a sticky note. “It’s a possession spell. All we need is something personal from the Thetas. Hair is perfect. One strand, and we’re golden.”
Philip blinked. “Hair. You want us to pluck a strand off someone’s head, mix it into some potion, and what? Astral-project into their underwear drawer?”
Jack leaned forward, whispering even though there was nobody else around. “Exactly. But into them, not their underwear drawer.”
For a moment, Philip couldn’t even find words. His friend was dead serious. His blue eyes glittered with the manic light of a man who believed in his own insanity. Philip pinched the bridge of his nose. “Jack, you need help.”
“Correction again. We need help, and this is it. Think about it. We don’t sneak around, we don’t break and enter, we just become them. Walk right in the front door. Grab what we need and walk back out again. Easy as pie.”
Philip wanted to laugh. He wanted to tell Jack this was why pledges got expelled, why college urban legends started with two idiots reading a so-called spell book. But something about Jack’s certainty unsettled him.
“How do you even plan to get the hair?” Philip asked, deciding to humor him.
Jack smirked. “You’re partnered with Vanessa in chem lab. I’m with her roommate, Katy. Both of them happen to belong to the Theta Sorority. Boom. Easy.”
Philip’s stomach lurched. Vanessa, the Vanessa, the girl he’d spent the better part of a semester trying not to stare at. She was sharp, funny, gorgeous, and so out of his league it hurt. The idea of stealing a strand of her hair wasn’t just impossible, it was mortifying.
“Jack, if I even look at her hair the wrong way she’ll know. She’ll tell everyone. I’ll be branded as the campus creep for the rest of my life.”
Jack clapped him on the back. “Relax. I’ll take care of mine. You just…fumble your way through like usual. She likes you, right? I’m sure she’s called you sweet before. She won’t even notice.”
Lab that afternoon was a fluorescent blur of glassware and nerves. Bunsen burners hissed, and the sharp scent of acetone hung in the air. Vanessa tied her glossy black hair into a messy bun as she leaned over the counter, the soft hum she made under her breath cutting through the low chatter of other pairs.
Philip adjusted the clamp on their stand and tried to steady his hands, pretending to check the thermometer while sneaking a glance at her profile. The long lashes, the soft curve of her cheek when she smiled. He’d barely worked up the nerve to say something to her, when the door swung open and Ryan Hale strolled in.
Ryan wasn’t a student in their class, he was a teaching assistant who was busy with his Masters. The kind of nerd who looked more like he belonged in a movie poster than a chemistry lab. The Henry Cavill of the campus. Tall, effortlessly confident, his sleeves rolled to the elbow, showing forearms that probably did not belong to someone who spent his evenings doing titration reports.
“Need a hand, Vanessa?” he asked, his voice deep and smooth enough to make the words sound like an inside joke.
Vanessa’s whole face lit up. “Ryan! You’re still hanging around the underclassmen? I thought you were too cool for basic chem.”
“Guess I missed the fun crowd.” He winked, stepping close enough that Philip caught the faint smell of his cologne. Something woodsy and smug. Philip’s stomach twisted. He busied himself pretending to check their notes, but every word between Vanessa and Ryan pulled his focus like a hook through his ribs.
“Still showing off that perfect technique, huh?” Ryan teased, leaning an elbow on the counter. “Could use someone like you to calibrate my disastrous love life.”
Vanessa laughed, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I told you last time, you need better lab partners, not better lines.”
“Maybe I just need one who actually likes me,” he said, voice dipping into something low and knowing. “You still wearing that purple dress that makes everyone else forget the experiment?”
She grinned, shaking her head. “Keep talking, and you’ll set the sprinklers off again.”
Ryan chuckled, backing away with a little salute. “Worth it.”
Philip’s jaw locked so tight it hurt. He shifted his beaker just to make noise. “Vanessa, uh, the solution’s ready,” he muttered.
She turned back, still smiling, a faint pink on her cheeks. “Right, sorry, I got distracted.” The way she said it made Philip want to vanish into the nearest fume hood.
Ryan gave him a nod that felt more like dismissal. “Good work, man. Don’t let her boss you around too much.”
Philip forced a tight smile. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
When Ryan finally moved on to check another table, the tension in Philip’s shoulders eased only slightly. Vanessa was still smiling to herself, twirling her pencil between her fingers. “He’s such a dork,” she said fondly.
“Yeah,” Philip replied, voice flat. “A real geek.”
She glanced at him, oblivious. “You okay? You look kind of pale.”
“Fine,” he lied. His pulse thundered. He hated how obvious it felt. The jealousy, the ridiculous possessiveness over a girl who barely saw him as more than a partner for lab reports.
Meanwhile, across the room, Jack was all charm. Katy, tall, athletic, focused on the work at hand with cool intensity, rolled her eyes at his constant jokes, but she didn’t seem to actively hate him. Jack’s hands moved casually, as if the experiment was background noise to whatever ridiculous story he was spinning.
Philip’s heart pounded. He couldn’t do it. Not to Vanessa. The thought of deliberately stealing a piece of her felt worse than any frat punishment. But then her bun slipped, and a single strand drifted onto the lab bench.
Philip froze and stared at it like it was radioactive. One perfect strand, right there. All he had to do was pick it up without her noticing. His hand twitched. Sweat beaded at his hairline. Vanessa reached for the pipette, and he panicked. He grabbed the strand too quickly, shoving it into his pocket like a thief.
She glanced at him, puzzled. “You good?” she asked.
Philip’s laugh came out strangled. “Yeah. Totally. Fine. Just, science, you know?”
She gave him a strange look, then turned back to the experiment. Across the room, Jack caught his eye and subtly flashed a triumphant thumbs-up. He mouthed, Got it. Philip wanted to throw up.
After class, they met outside, ducking into a quiet corner near the library. Jack pulled a small plastic baggie from his pocket and wiggled it proudly. Katy’s strand of hair gleaming inside. Philip shoved his hands deep into his hoodie, where Vanessa’s strand burned against his palm like contraband.
“This is insane,” he muttered. “If she’d caught me, I’d have been ruined.”
Jack was practically buzzing. “But she didn’t. We’ve got everything. Today, we drink the potion. Tomorrow, we’re legends.”
Philip stared at him, feeling his chest tighten. It wasn’t the frat house that scared him anymore. It was Jack’s unwavering certainty, the gleam in his eye like he’d already crossed a line Philip couldn’t even see.
Back in their room, Jack had cleared his desk, pushing aside textbooks and laundry to make space for the battered paperback and a mess of supplies that looked like they’d been stolen from a Spirit Halloween clearance bin. Mason jars, candles, a bag of salt and something that Philip really, really hoped was red food coloring.
Philip sat on the bed, arms crossed, trying not to look at the plastic bag in his pocket. Inside was Vanessa’s hair, a single dark strand that felt heavier than lead.
“This is ridiculous,” he muttered. “You’re going to set off the fire alarm, and we’ll get kicked out before we even fail the pledge.”
Jack was hunched over the desk, tongue poking from the corner of his mouth as he measured powder into a chipped coffee mug.
“Correction. You’re going to stop being so negative, because we’re going to waltz into Theta’s house like we own it and take our time finding the perfect proof. Something small, sexy and lacy. Then we hand it to Trent and we’re done. Easiest initiation ever and we’re lifelong members of the Delta Epsilon brotherhood.”
Philip shook his head. “You actually believe all the crap coming out of your mouth, don’t you?”
“Yes. Because I know this is going to work.” Jack’s grin was feral. He held up his mug, fizzing with something dark and faintly purple. “And very soon, you’re going to have to swallow all your pessimistic, dismissive words and admit that I’m the GOAT.” Without waiting for a response, he dropped Katy’s wavy strand of hair into the concoction.
Philip looked at his own brew, waiting for him on the desk. It reeked faintly of vinegar and something metallic. “This looks like cough syrup that went bad.”
Jack grabbed the paperback, muttering words under his breath. Latin? Gibberish? Philip couldn’t tell. The candlelight threw shadows across Jack’s face, making him look more unhinged than usual.
“Jack,” Philip said slowly, “You get that if this doesn’t work, we may be drinking poison?”
“Trust me,” Jack said, gesturing meaningfully at Philip’s mug. Those two words had been the prelude to every disaster Philip had lived through with him. The broken window in high school. The near arrest in freshman year. And now this.
Philip sighed, pulled Vanessa’s hair from his pocket, and dropped it into the liquid. It curled and fizzed, dissolving into the mixture like it had never been.
“Bottoms up,” Jack said cheerfully, chugging the contents in one long pull.
Philip raised his mug. The liquid shimmered oddly, like heat ripples above asphalt. He pinched his nose and tossed it back. It burned. Like swallowing melted pennies chased with bleach. His stomach roiled instantly, bile rising up.
“Jesus Christ,” he choked, slamming the cup down. “That’s not magic, that’s battery acid.”
Jack wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, coughing hard, but his grin didn’t falter. “Wait for it.”
Philip blinked and the dorm room folded in on itself. Candlelight bent sideways and the next breath tasted like coffee and paper. He was not in their room anymore. He was sitting at a table under tall windows, late afternoon light spilling amber over open textbooks and half empty cups.
The scent was library quiet and caffeine. Hair slid across his cheek. Definitely not his. It was long and silky. His hands were smaller, nails pink, wrists delicate. The weight on his chest tugged when he breathed. He was looking through Vanessa’s eyes.
Across from him, Katy sat in a chair with a pen in her hand and her mouth parted in a quiet, startled sound that belonged to Jack. “Holy shit,” Jack whispered in Katy’s voice.
Philip’s pulse spiked. “How the hell did I get here?” he asked under his breath, before the realization hit him fully. Jack’s crazy plan worked. He glanced down, eyes bugging at the soft cleavage he encountered. He was on the verge of completely freaking out. “Keep it together,” he muttered to himself. The sound of Vanessa's voice only sent him spiraling further into chaos.
Jack’s grin curled slow and wicked as he looked down at himself and then around them. He started to pull the top of Katy’s tank forward so he could peek at her breasts, before Philip shot him a look that could choke a man at twenty paces.
“Don’t,” Philip hissed. “Katy would never do something like that in public!”
Jack laughed, high and breathy in Katy’s voice. “You’re telling me you’re not even curious? Come on, man. We’re in. This is unreal. Don’t you want to know what it feels like to them when we touch them?”
Philip swallowed hard, trying to calm himself. He gripped the edge of the table to keep himself from spiraling into sensory overload.
“This…this isn’t possible,” he whispered. But the evidence pressed in from every side. The scent of citrus shampoo in his hair, the tug of bra straps against his shoulders, the fullness in his chest when he inhaled. The emptiness where his cock should be.
Philip’s eyes darted anxiously around the library cafe. “We need to get out of here before someone notices something off,” Philip said. “People pick up on the smallest wrong note.” He was terrified that someone would realize the girls were possessed.
He spent way too much time staring at Vanessa, but that didn’t mean he could copy her actions. If anyone watched them closely, they’d know immediately that there were impostors inhabiting Vanessa and Katy.
“We should go back to their room and fool around,” Jack suggested immediately, hands on Katy’s breasts, squeezing idly.
“Jesus, Jack, stop that! They’re in public. We’re in public…”
This was such a mind-fuck. Clearly they were literally possessing Vanessa and Katy’s bodies. Where was Vanessa's consciousness now? Asleep? Aware? He didn’t feel like someone was watching him, so hopefully she had no idea what he was doing. And where were his and Jack’s bodies? Still in their dorm room? Fuck. If he’d known there was any chance of this working, he’d never have gone through with it.
“Come on bestie, let’s go home,” Jack cooed at him. “I’m just dying to get out of these pesky clothes.”
Jack clearly had zero second thoughts about any of this. Then again, Jack had never had a second thought in his life. He rarely had first ones. Philip decided that only made him a bigger idiot for always following his friend’s crazy plans.
Philip took a deep breath, gathered Vanessa’s things and slung her messenger bag over her shoulder before getting up on shaky legs. The plan was to reach Theta house without interacting with anyone who knew the girls.
Vanessa was outgoing and popular, so he kept his eyes trained on the ground to avoid any accidental socializing.
He was doing his best to focus on the mission, but every move betrayed him. Vanessa’s curves shifted differently from his own. Her hips swayed without permission when he walked. The tug of the denim skirt around her thighs was tighter than he was used to, the waistband sitting higher, the soft curtain of hair continuously falling into his eyes. And he kept fighting the urge to run his fingertips over her lustrous, satiny skin.
Philip thanked his lucky stars that it was late afternoon sliding toward evening and most of the Theta girls were either at dinner, in class, or busy with the mixer prep.
The second piece of good luck was the fact that the first year members of the sorority had the downstairs bedrooms and Katy and Vanessa had their names picked out in glittery wooden letters on their door. Which saved him and Jack from being caught wandering aimlessly into someone else’s room and rifling through their underwear.
“Come on,” he hissed at Jack, nearly having heart failure when he heard Vanessa’s sweet, bubbly voice, before remembering it came from his own mouth.
As soon as they entered the room, Philip froze like a deer in headlights.
The room smelled like them. A heady mix of perfume, make-up and detergent. Several photos of Vanessa and Katy were pinned to the notice board. Keys with a little Theta charm lay on a desk. Lip gloss on each bedside table. A folded flyer about the upcoming mixer. Every object made him feel like an intruder in a life that wasn’t his.
Then he looked up and saw his reflection thrown back at him from the floor length mirror fastened to the opposite wall. Vanessa stared back. Her round face framed by shiny black hair, lips glossed in pale pink, eyes wide with Philip’s panic.
“This isn’t possible,” he murmured hoarsely.
Jack crossed the room with Katy’s energetic stride, hair swinging over her shoulder. He leaned down, far too close, eyes alight with mischief.
“Possible or not, it’s happening. And we’ve got hours before it wears off. Wanna play?” Philip’s pulse thundered. He was in Vanessa’s body. Jack was in Katy’s. He had no idea what their real bodies were doing or where, only that they were not here. For the first time since pledging Delta, he realized he was more terrified of his best friend than of any frat brother.
Jack was practically bouncing around like a kid in a candy store, repeatedly mentioning how awesome it is to have tits.
“This is insane,” Philip muttered, running a hand through Vanessa’s long hair. The strands slipped through his fingers like silk, brushing the back of his neck, constantly in his peripheral vision. Every little tickle made him twitch. “I feel like I’m drowning in shampoo.”
Jack snorted. “Yeah. It’s fucking awesome. Look at this.” He shook his head, letting Katy’s long, dark hair fall over her shoulders, framing her face, then bit her lower lip between her teeth and winked at Philip seductively. “Tell me this doesn’t look hot.”
Philip turned away, but not before catching a glimpse of the curve of Katy’s collarbone, the tan line along her shoulder where a sports bra must’ve once sat. He gritted his teeth.
“We’re only here to grab underwear and then we get out. That’s it.” Jack made a distracted sound, which didn’t entirely sound like agreement.
He was testing everything. Squeezing Katy’s biceps and delighting in the subtle muscle definition, stretching out one long leg and flexing her calf muscles, even bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet as if testing how springy she was.
Philip was still focused on the reflection in the mirror. He stepped closer, and the image followed, familiar and foreign all at once. He raised a hand. She raised a hand. Jack appeared beside him, sliding Katy’s body into view. She was taller, leaner, her shoulders broader than Vanessa’s.
Katy was studious and fairly quiet normally, but Jack’s grin warped her into something hungry. A femme fatale in search of her next prey.
“Dude, look at us,” Jack whispered. “We actually pulled it off. We’re fucking hot!”
Philip swallowed, heat crawling up his neck. “We shouldn’t be looking. This is… it’s too much.”
“Too much fun,” Jack corrected. He pressed closer to the mirror, tilting Katy’s head, pursing her lips, sticking out her tongue just to see how it looked. He laughed in delight. “God, the way this mouth moves, it’s unreal.”
Philip tried to drag his eyes away, but curiosity betrayed him. His gaze dipped, catching sight of Vanessa’s chest in the reflection. The neckline of her shirt clung close, clearly showing the outline of her nipples. He bit the inside of his cheek and turned away sharply. He was not going to lift her top and take a peek.
“You’re staring,” Jack teased, slipping behind him and resting Katy’s hands on Vanessa’s hips.
Katy’s reflection loomed over Vanessa’s smaller frame in the mirror. “What’s it like, having the body of your crush? Bet you’ve fantasized about having unfettered access to her before. Touching every inch of her. Running your palms over her perky tits. Cupping her pussy.”
Philip’s face went hot. “Shut up.”
Jack leaned closer, his voice dropping, Katy’s lips brushing dangerously near Philip’s ear. “She’s soft, isn’t she? Curvy. Everything you imagined. And she’s right here. Aching to know what your hands would feel like sliding all over her.”
Philip’s breath caught. He could feel the warmth of Jack’s presence, the whisper of Katy’s hair brushing his cheek. He tried to step away, but Vanessa’s body didn’t obey with the same steadiness as his own.
His hip bumped the desk, throwing him off balance. Jack’s hand shot out, steadying him. Grabbing his hips instead of his arm. Philip stiffened. The pressure of Katy’s palm against Vanessa’s midriff was startling. A hot reminder that this wasn’t a joke anymore.
“Jack,” Philip said, voice low with warning. But Jack only grinned, tightening his grip slightly, fingertips sliding along the hem of Vanessa’s shirt, tickling the strip of skin underneath.
“Relax. We’ve got time before the potion wears off. Why waste it panicking when we could explore?”
Philip shoved his hand away, heart hammering too fast. “We came here for one reason. Don’t fuck this up with your usual bullshit.”
Jack backed off in mock surrender, leaning against the wall and raising Katy’s hands. “Fine, fine. You want to pass up a once in a lifetime opportunity by being a pussy, instead of playing with one, go ahead.”
Philip ignored him and pulled open one of the dresser drawers, coming face to face with the mother lode.
A mass of lace and cotton, bright colors and neutrals, G-strings and briefs and bras, all folded neatly in little piles. He fumbled, pulling out a pair at random, trying not to notice the little bow stitched along the waistband, or theorize about which of the girls it belonged to.
“Got it,” he muttered, stuffing it into his pocket. “We should leave and go and stash this somewhere so we can retrieve it when we’re us again.”
“Plenty of time for that. Are you seriously passing up the opportunity to find out what turns your crush on?”
Philip’s chest heaved, the bra beneath his shirt pinching tighter with the movement. Every tiny sensation was amplified in this shape. He had no idea girls had such sensitive bodies. If Vanessa's neck and shoulders were this responsive to stimuli, what about the more… delicate areas?
Jack leaned against the wall, watching his friend closely. Katy’s arms crossed under her breasts, pushing them up in a way that made Philip avert his eyes.
“You really think you can ignore this?” Jack asked softly. “Ignore her?”
Philip didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Because the truth was, even as he tried to ignore it, every nerve in Vanessa’s body was alive with a tingling feeling he couldn’t shut off.
He told himself he wouldn’t look at the mirror again. That he had the underwear and all that was left to do was wait for the potion to burn off. But every time he moved, Vanessa’s body reminded him he wasn’t himself. The way her thighs brushed together when he shifted his stance. The heat trapped in the curve between her breasts. The way her nipples tightened when she saw the way Katy stared at her. The sudden, sharp contraction of pleasure between her legs.
Each detail was louder than thought. And Jack wouldn’t fucking give him space to breathe.
“You’re wound too tight,” Jack murmured, stepping closer again. Katy’s taller body loomed behind him, all lean lines and toned strength. He set Katy’s hands on Vanessa's shoulders from behind, massaging with deliberate slowness.
“Loosen up.”
Philip froze. The sensation was alien. Slender fingers pressing into the slope of Vanessa’s shoulders, kneading muscle softer than his own. His back arched without meaning to, chest pushing forward. He could feel the heat in his panties and almost smell the pheromones in the air.
“Jack-”
“Shh.”
Katy’s breath ghosted over his ear, warm and taunting. “Allow her to feel it. Her body isn’t fighting me. She likes this.”
Philip hated the way heat rippled through him at the words. The way Vanessa’s nipples pebbled instantly, turning aching and hard beneath her bra when Jack’s thumbs kept sensually running across her muscles.
He tried to step away, but Jack’s grip on her waist drew her back. Katy’s chest pressed flush against Vanessa’s back. Firm breasts molding against soft skin. Philip gasped, a small, betraying sound.
“That’s it,” Jack whispered, lips brushing the shell of Vanessa's ear. “You feel that, don’t you? How different it is?”
Philip bit his lip hard. But it didn’t stop his body from reacting. His chest ached with sensitivity, every brush of fabric against his nipples sparking hot shivers. His hips shifted against Jack’s hold, searching without meaning to. His ass pressing back, almost expecting to feel an erect cock there, relaxing when all he encountered was softness.
Jack slid one hand lower, over Vanessa’s flat stomach, fingertips grazing the waist of her denim skirt. Philip’s pulse spiked. He could feel the shape of her body in ways he’d only imagined.
“God, you’re actually shaking,” Jack teased. He pressed his palm harder, dragging upward until he cupped one of Vanessa’s breasts through her shirt. His hand molded perfectly to the curve, fingers sinking in slightly before closing over the nipples and pinching.
Philip jolted like he’d been shocked. The pressure sent heat exploding through him. So much sharper than he ever imagined. A moan slipped out, broken and needy, before he could stop it. Jack laughed low, his voice a husky echo in Katy’s mouth.
“I knew it. You’re loving this.”
Philip shook his head, but his body betrayed him. Vanessa’s breasts were soft in his own hands when Jack pulled them into place, squeezing and kneading.
The ache in his chest spread downward, a molten restlessness that coiled between his legs, where there was no longer any familiar weight. Only a slick, sensitive heat that made his thighs tense. Jack leaned closer, kissing the side of Vanessa's neck.
Katy’s lips left tingling sparks against her skin. He gasped again, tilting his head back without meaning to, giving Jack room to explore.
“You always wanted to know what she felt like, didn’t you?” Jack murmured between kisses. “Now you do. Every inch. Every little twitch. If you ever get the chance, you could make her cum in minutes.”
Philip squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t want to want this. But Vanessa’s body was singing beneath his skin, her curves hypersensitive to every touch, every squeeze. When Jack dragged his hand lower, cupping the swell of her ass through denim, Philip’s knees went weak. He stumbled, and they tumbled together onto the nearest bed. Vanessa’s smaller frame pinned beneath Katy’s.
Jack landed on top, grinning down, hair falling in a dark curtain around their faces. “Just lie back and enjoy it,” he said, voice husky. “I’ll do all the work and you can take notes in your head.”
Katy’s hips pressed down, grinding just enough for Philip to feel the press of her pussy against Vanessa's. The pleasure nearly made him see stars. What would it feel like if Katy actually touched her clit? Dragged her tongue over it? Sucked it between those soft lips?
Philip whimpered, his hands trapped between them, pressed against the curves of Katy’s sides. He could feel the warmth of skin through fabric. Every nerve screamed with arousal. Jack leaned down, lips hovering over his.
“Tell me you don’t want this.”
Philip’s heart thundered. His lips parted, and he didn’t know if he was going to say I don’t or kiss Katy. His pulse roared in his ears. He could feel the weight of Vanessa’s chest rising and falling too fast, her heartbeat thundering in her ribs like a trapped animal.
Jack hovered over him, Katy’s taller frame caging him against the mattress, their borrowed hair spilling together in a curtain that smelled faintly of fruit.
“This isn’t funny anymore,” Philip rasped, but his voice cracked, betraying the tremor of arousal under the words.
Jack smirked. “I’m not joking.” He lowered Katy’s body until their breasts touched, brushing Katy’s peaked nipples against Vanessa’s rock hard ones. The friction alone made Philip gasp, heat shooting through him. It wasn’t like pressing chest-to-chest with another guy.
The give, the shape, the electric sting of nipples touching, every detail was overwhelming. He had no idea breasts were so receptive to the slightest touch. Vanessa's wasn’t even uncovered and they made him squirm.
“God,” he groaned before he could stop himself. Jack’s grin widened in satisfaction.
“Feels good, doesn’t it? Every touch goes both ways. You squeeze her,” He pressed Katy’s hand down onto one of Vanessa’s breasts, forcing Philip to feel it fully, “And you are her.”
Philip arched into the contact despite himself. His hands moved up without any conscious thought. The weight of her breast in his palm, the nipple reacting instantly under his touch, each tiny spark flooded through him in a way his male body never reacted to anything but pressure on his cock.
He kneaded once, twice, and heat surged low in his stomach, between his thighs, turning his panties damp. His back bowed off the mattress, mouth falling open in a helpless sound.
Jack kissed him then. Katy’s mouth grazing Vanessa's jaw, the corner of her mouth, teasing as it moved around.
Every brush of her sweet lips left a wet, burning mark. Philip turned away, breathless, but Jack followed, biting gently at Vanessa’s neck until Philip gasped.
His thighs clenched hard. Something slick and molten was spreading there, pulsing with every beat of his heart. He could feel the absence, the soft, tender heat where his cock would usually be straining.
The pressure of denim against it only sharpened the ache. He needed Jack to touch Vanessa's pussy. He needed pressure. Jack ground down lightly and Philip bucked up helplessly, his own hands gripping Katy’s hips tight, chasing the friction he’d die without.
“Stop,” he panted, but the word broke halfway, turning into a moan. Jack chuckled low.
“Your body doesn’t want me to stop.” He kissed Vanessa again. Her lips plump, glossy, trembling beneath Katy’s teasing press. Philip’s breath hitched and his tongue flicked nervously against the edge of his teeth.
Every nerve screamed to close the distance, to taste what it felt like to kiss as a girl, to be kissed as a girl. Jack deepened the grind of their hips. Philip’s breath hitched sharply, a helpless whimper leaving his throat.
Heat surged through his belly, down his thighs, the ache between his legs swelling into a throbbing need. He arched against Katy, nails digging into her waist. There’s no way he was going to be able to say no. Jack had to make him cum.
Jack pulled back slightly, asking with twinkling eyes, “Shall we see how good Katy is at eating pussy?”
Philip knew what his answer should be, but his entire body was throbbing, yes yes yes.
Their mouths hovered a fraction apart, breaths mingling. The world narrowed to that single point of contact waiting to happen. Philip’s lips parted, ready, needy.
“Vanessa? Katy?” The voice cut through the fog like a blade, followed by the rap of knuckles on the door.
Philip’s eyes flew wide. Jack froze above him, both of them panting hard. “Vanessa, Katy!” another girl called from the hall. “We need you for the final discussions for tonight’s mixer!”
Silence. Only their ragged breaths, the hot press of bodies still locked together. Jack swore under his breath, rolling off Vanessa reluctantly.
“Just when things were about to get really good.”
Philip scrambled upright, Vanessa’s hair tangling in his face, chest heaving, nipples still hard and aching. He shoved shaky hands through the strands, trying to compose himself, though the slick heat between his thighs throbbed in open defiance.
He knew they should have kept their heads. If they let curiosity drag them off course they would blow the whole point of the night. The spell would end when it wanted and they had no idea when that would be.
Another knock. “Come on, you two! Hurry up! Megan saw you get in earlier, I know you’re in there.”
Jack smirked, tugging Katy’s tank top straight as if they hadn’t just been seconds from fucking each other into oblivion.
“Guess there’s more fun ahead. Don’t think you’re off the hook though, I’m still going to eat that pussy later and I fully expect to get repaid in kind.”
Philip sat frozen, heart still hammering, his mind spinning so fast he worried he might throw up.
With the sorority girls having already taken well known countermeasures to deal with any would be panty thieves, he thinks the chances of completing the challenge are near zero.
However, when his best friend Jack claims to have a plan involving a little magic and burrowing the bodies of his crush Vanessa and her roommate Katy, he knows he is in for a long night ahead when things don't exactly end up going to plan...
Note: This is a commissioned work that has not been personally written by me. I have been granted permission to distribute and share the story by the original author.
The floor of Delta Epsilon’s house was sticky.
Beer, cheap cologne, and stale pizza had seeped into the carpet like a second skin, and Philip had the honor of scrubbing it clean while half a dozen brothers lounged on couches watching basketball highlights.
“Missed a spot,” one of them called, deliberately tilting a red Solo cup so that the last of his drink bled out onto the carpet inches from Philip’s sponge.
Philip clenched his jaw. He’d been degraded all semester, fetching fast food at three in the morning, running errands that skirted the edge of being criminal, serving as human furniture during drinking games. He told himself it would be worth it. Delta Epsilon’s parties were legendary, the kind of place girls lined up to get into. More importantly, alumni connections meant a shot at internships that led to real careers. You suffered now, you cashed in later.
Jack, naturally, thrived. He was perched on the arm of a sofa, balancing a tray of wings for two seniors, grinning like the humiliation was a party of its own.
“How’s that knee grease holding up, Phil?” he teased, eyebrows bouncing. Philip muttered something under his breath, pressing the sponge hard enough to leave his knuckles white. He’d thought pledging with his best friend would make things easier. Instead, Jack’s bottomless energy only made Philip feel like the boring one, always one step away from quitting.
The pledge master, Trent, finally called them over once the brothers had eaten their fill.
“You’ve made it further than many,” he said, addressing both Philip and Jack while tapping the ash off his cigar. “Scrubbing toilets, babysitting drunk brothers, taking whatever punishment we throw at you, you did it all without complaint. But Delta doesn’t hand out membership for free. There’s one last hurdle.”
Jack’s eyes lit up, while Philip felt his stomach knot. Trent leaned forward. “You’ve got until Saturday morning to bring us proof that you’re worthy of being Delta Epsilons. And by proof, I mean the underwear of one of the Theta sisters across the street.”
A ripple of laughter passed through the room. Someone whistled. Another shouted, “Better hope they’re lace!”
Philip’s face burned hot. He’d expected something brutal. A dangerous stunt, or maybe even a tattoo or branding, not…this. Not something that felt like the set-up to a police record for being a creep.
Jack, of course, grinned like he’d just been handed a golden ticket. “Piece of cake,” he said.
“Piece of felony,” Philip muttered.
Trent ignored the comment. “You get caught, that’s your problem. Theta girls are sick of pranks. They’ll eat you alive if they catch you sneaking around. Fail, and you’ll have to re-pledge next semester, if we even let you back in. Succeed, and you’ll be full brothers by sunrise.”
He flicked his cigar ash into an empty beer can, and the matter was closed. Philip and Jack were dismissed like servants, slipping out into the cool night air. The frat house behind them thumped with bass as the next round of drinking games began.
Across the street, the Theta house glowed with warm yellow light, its windows alive with the silhouettes of girls laughing, moving and living in a world that felt forbidden.
Philip shoved his hands into his hoodie pocket. “This is insane. They want us to break into a sorority house. Forget expulsion, that’s actual jail time if we’re caught and reported.”
Jack slung an arm around his shoulder, grinning as if he hadn’t heard a word. “Come on, man. It’s tradition. Everybody who ever wore Delta letters has done something crazy like this. We’ll figure it out. We always do.”
Philip shrugged him off. “You mean you’ll figure it out. And drag me with you.”
Jack’s grin widened. “Exactly. Don’t worry, I’ve got a plan.” That phrase, I’ve got a plan, was the single most dangerous thing Jack could say. Philip knew better, but as he stared up at the Theta house, he couldn’t shake the truth. They’d come too far to back out now.
Philip assumed Jack’s “plan” would be something stupid but doable. Like sneaking into the Theta laundry room, bribing a janitor, or maybe finessing a stolen bra from lost-and-found.
What he didn’t expect, as their deadline creeped ever closer, was Jack pulling a battered paperback out of his backpack like he’d just smuggled the Necronomicon out of the library and declaring their troubles were about to be a thing of the past.
“What is that?” Philip asked, eyeing the faded title embossed with moons and symbols.
“Wiccan Rites and Rituals of the Body,” Jack said with a grin so wide it could split his face. “This baby is going to get us in.”
Philip stared. “That’s not a plan you idiot. That’s…props from a bad horror movie.”
“Correction,” Jack said, flipping through pages until he landed on one marked with a sticky note. “It’s a possession spell. All we need is something personal from the Thetas. Hair is perfect. One strand, and we’re golden.”
Philip blinked. “Hair. You want us to pluck a strand off someone’s head, mix it into some potion, and what? Astral-project into their underwear drawer?”
Jack leaned forward, whispering even though there was nobody else around. “Exactly. But into them, not their underwear drawer.”
For a moment, Philip couldn’t even find words. His friend was dead serious. His blue eyes glittered with the manic light of a man who believed in his own insanity. Philip pinched the bridge of his nose. “Jack, you need help.”
“Correction again. We need help, and this is it. Think about it. We don’t sneak around, we don’t break and enter, we just become them. Walk right in the front door. Grab what we need and walk back out again. Easy as pie.”
Philip wanted to laugh. He wanted to tell Jack this was why pledges got expelled, why college urban legends started with two idiots reading a so-called spell book. But something about Jack’s certainty unsettled him.
“How do you even plan to get the hair?” Philip asked, deciding to humor him.
Jack smirked. “You’re partnered with Vanessa in chem lab. I’m with her roommate, Katy. Both of them happen to belong to the Theta Sorority. Boom. Easy.”
Philip’s stomach lurched. Vanessa, the Vanessa, the girl he’d spent the better part of a semester trying not to stare at. She was sharp, funny, gorgeous, and so out of his league it hurt. The idea of stealing a strand of her hair wasn’t just impossible, it was mortifying.
“Jack, if I even look at her hair the wrong way she’ll know. She’ll tell everyone. I’ll be branded as the campus creep for the rest of my life.”
Jack clapped him on the back. “Relax. I’ll take care of mine. You just…fumble your way through like usual. She likes you, right? I’m sure she’s called you sweet before. She won’t even notice.”
Lab that afternoon was a fluorescent blur of glassware and nerves. Bunsen burners hissed, and the sharp scent of acetone hung in the air. Vanessa tied her glossy black hair into a messy bun as she leaned over the counter, the soft hum she made under her breath cutting through the low chatter of other pairs.
Philip adjusted the clamp on their stand and tried to steady his hands, pretending to check the thermometer while sneaking a glance at her profile. The long lashes, the soft curve of her cheek when she smiled. He’d barely worked up the nerve to say something to her, when the door swung open and Ryan Hale strolled in.
Ryan wasn’t a student in their class, he was a teaching assistant who was busy with his Masters. The kind of nerd who looked more like he belonged in a movie poster than a chemistry lab. The Henry Cavill of the campus. Tall, effortlessly confident, his sleeves rolled to the elbow, showing forearms that probably did not belong to someone who spent his evenings doing titration reports.
“Need a hand, Vanessa?” he asked, his voice deep and smooth enough to make the words sound like an inside joke.
Vanessa’s whole face lit up. “Ryan! You’re still hanging around the underclassmen? I thought you were too cool for basic chem.”
“Guess I missed the fun crowd.” He winked, stepping close enough that Philip caught the faint smell of his cologne. Something woodsy and smug. Philip’s stomach twisted. He busied himself pretending to check their notes, but every word between Vanessa and Ryan pulled his focus like a hook through his ribs.
“Still showing off that perfect technique, huh?” Ryan teased, leaning an elbow on the counter. “Could use someone like you to calibrate my disastrous love life.”
Vanessa laughed, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I told you last time, you need better lab partners, not better lines.”
“Maybe I just need one who actually likes me,” he said, voice dipping into something low and knowing. “You still wearing that purple dress that makes everyone else forget the experiment?”
She grinned, shaking her head. “Keep talking, and you’ll set the sprinklers off again.”
Ryan chuckled, backing away with a little salute. “Worth it.”
Philip’s jaw locked so tight it hurt. He shifted his beaker just to make noise. “Vanessa, uh, the solution’s ready,” he muttered.
She turned back, still smiling, a faint pink on her cheeks. “Right, sorry, I got distracted.” The way she said it made Philip want to vanish into the nearest fume hood.
Ryan gave him a nod that felt more like dismissal. “Good work, man. Don’t let her boss you around too much.”
Philip forced a tight smile. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
When Ryan finally moved on to check another table, the tension in Philip’s shoulders eased only slightly. Vanessa was still smiling to herself, twirling her pencil between her fingers. “He’s such a dork,” she said fondly.
“Yeah,” Philip replied, voice flat. “A real geek.”
She glanced at him, oblivious. “You okay? You look kind of pale.”
“Fine,” he lied. His pulse thundered. He hated how obvious it felt. The jealousy, the ridiculous possessiveness over a girl who barely saw him as more than a partner for lab reports.
Meanwhile, across the room, Jack was all charm. Katy, tall, athletic, focused on the work at hand with cool intensity, rolled her eyes at his constant jokes, but she didn’t seem to actively hate him. Jack’s hands moved casually, as if the experiment was background noise to whatever ridiculous story he was spinning.
Philip’s heart pounded. He couldn’t do it. Not to Vanessa. The thought of deliberately stealing a piece of her felt worse than any frat punishment. But then her bun slipped, and a single strand drifted onto the lab bench.
Philip froze and stared at it like it was radioactive. One perfect strand, right there. All he had to do was pick it up without her noticing. His hand twitched. Sweat beaded at his hairline. Vanessa reached for the pipette, and he panicked. He grabbed the strand too quickly, shoving it into his pocket like a thief.
She glanced at him, puzzled. “You good?” she asked.
Philip’s laugh came out strangled. “Yeah. Totally. Fine. Just, science, you know?”
She gave him a strange look, then turned back to the experiment. Across the room, Jack caught his eye and subtly flashed a triumphant thumbs-up. He mouthed, Got it. Philip wanted to throw up.
After class, they met outside, ducking into a quiet corner near the library. Jack pulled a small plastic baggie from his pocket and wiggled it proudly. Katy’s strand of hair gleaming inside. Philip shoved his hands deep into his hoodie, where Vanessa’s strand burned against his palm like contraband.
“This is insane,” he muttered. “If she’d caught me, I’d have been ruined.”
Jack was practically buzzing. “But she didn’t. We’ve got everything. Today, we drink the potion. Tomorrow, we’re legends.”
Philip stared at him, feeling his chest tighten. It wasn’t the frat house that scared him anymore. It was Jack’s unwavering certainty, the gleam in his eye like he’d already crossed a line Philip couldn’t even see.
Back in their room, Jack had cleared his desk, pushing aside textbooks and laundry to make space for the battered paperback and a mess of supplies that looked like they’d been stolen from a Spirit Halloween clearance bin. Mason jars, candles, a bag of salt and something that Philip really, really hoped was red food coloring.
Philip sat on the bed, arms crossed, trying not to look at the plastic bag in his pocket. Inside was Vanessa’s hair, a single dark strand that felt heavier than lead.
“This is ridiculous,” he muttered. “You’re going to set off the fire alarm, and we’ll get kicked out before we even fail the pledge.”
Jack was hunched over the desk, tongue poking from the corner of his mouth as he measured powder into a chipped coffee mug.
“Correction. You’re going to stop being so negative, because we’re going to waltz into Theta’s house like we own it and take our time finding the perfect proof. Something small, sexy and lacy. Then we hand it to Trent and we’re done. Easiest initiation ever and we’re lifelong members of the Delta Epsilon brotherhood.”
Philip shook his head. “You actually believe all the crap coming out of your mouth, don’t you?”
“Yes. Because I know this is going to work.” Jack’s grin was feral. He held up his mug, fizzing with something dark and faintly purple. “And very soon, you’re going to have to swallow all your pessimistic, dismissive words and admit that I’m the GOAT.” Without waiting for a response, he dropped Katy’s wavy strand of hair into the concoction.
Philip looked at his own brew, waiting for him on the desk. It reeked faintly of vinegar and something metallic. “This looks like cough syrup that went bad.”
Jack grabbed the paperback, muttering words under his breath. Latin? Gibberish? Philip couldn’t tell. The candlelight threw shadows across Jack’s face, making him look more unhinged than usual.
“Jack,” Philip said slowly, “You get that if this doesn’t work, we may be drinking poison?”
“Trust me,” Jack said, gesturing meaningfully at Philip’s mug. Those two words had been the prelude to every disaster Philip had lived through with him. The broken window in high school. The near arrest in freshman year. And now this.
Philip sighed, pulled Vanessa’s hair from his pocket, and dropped it into the liquid. It curled and fizzed, dissolving into the mixture like it had never been.
“Bottoms up,” Jack said cheerfully, chugging the contents in one long pull.
Philip raised his mug. The liquid shimmered oddly, like heat ripples above asphalt. He pinched his nose and tossed it back. It burned. Like swallowing melted pennies chased with bleach. His stomach roiled instantly, bile rising up.
“Jesus Christ,” he choked, slamming the cup down. “That’s not magic, that’s battery acid.”
Jack wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, coughing hard, but his grin didn’t falter. “Wait for it.”
Philip blinked and the dorm room folded in on itself. Candlelight bent sideways and the next breath tasted like coffee and paper. He was not in their room anymore. He was sitting at a table under tall windows, late afternoon light spilling amber over open textbooks and half empty cups.
The scent was library quiet and caffeine. Hair slid across his cheek. Definitely not his. It was long and silky. His hands were smaller, nails pink, wrists delicate. The weight on his chest tugged when he breathed. He was looking through Vanessa’s eyes.
Across from him, Katy sat in a chair with a pen in her hand and her mouth parted in a quiet, startled sound that belonged to Jack. “Holy shit,” Jack whispered in Katy’s voice.
Philip’s pulse spiked. “How the hell did I get here?” he asked under his breath, before the realization hit him fully. Jack’s crazy plan worked. He glanced down, eyes bugging at the soft cleavage he encountered. He was on the verge of completely freaking out. “Keep it together,” he muttered to himself. The sound of Vanessa's voice only sent him spiraling further into chaos.
Jack’s grin curled slow and wicked as he looked down at himself and then around them. He started to pull the top of Katy’s tank forward so he could peek at her breasts, before Philip shot him a look that could choke a man at twenty paces.
“Don’t,” Philip hissed. “Katy would never do something like that in public!”
Jack laughed, high and breathy in Katy’s voice. “You’re telling me you’re not even curious? Come on, man. We’re in. This is unreal. Don’t you want to know what it feels like to them when we touch them?”
Philip swallowed hard, trying to calm himself. He gripped the edge of the table to keep himself from spiraling into sensory overload.
“This…this isn’t possible,” he whispered. But the evidence pressed in from every side. The scent of citrus shampoo in his hair, the tug of bra straps against his shoulders, the fullness in his chest when he inhaled. The emptiness where his cock should be.
Philip’s eyes darted anxiously around the library cafe. “We need to get out of here before someone notices something off,” Philip said. “People pick up on the smallest wrong note.” He was terrified that someone would realize the girls were possessed.
He spent way too much time staring at Vanessa, but that didn’t mean he could copy her actions. If anyone watched them closely, they’d know immediately that there were impostors inhabiting Vanessa and Katy.
“We should go back to their room and fool around,” Jack suggested immediately, hands on Katy’s breasts, squeezing idly.
“Jesus, Jack, stop that! They’re in public. We’re in public…”
This was such a mind-fuck. Clearly they were literally possessing Vanessa and Katy’s bodies. Where was Vanessa's consciousness now? Asleep? Aware? He didn’t feel like someone was watching him, so hopefully she had no idea what he was doing. And where were his and Jack’s bodies? Still in their dorm room? Fuck. If he’d known there was any chance of this working, he’d never have gone through with it.
“Come on bestie, let’s go home,” Jack cooed at him. “I’m just dying to get out of these pesky clothes.”
Jack clearly had zero second thoughts about any of this. Then again, Jack had never had a second thought in his life. He rarely had first ones. Philip decided that only made him a bigger idiot for always following his friend’s crazy plans.
Philip took a deep breath, gathered Vanessa’s things and slung her messenger bag over her shoulder before getting up on shaky legs. The plan was to reach Theta house without interacting with anyone who knew the girls.
Vanessa was outgoing and popular, so he kept his eyes trained on the ground to avoid any accidental socializing.
He was doing his best to focus on the mission, but every move betrayed him. Vanessa’s curves shifted differently from his own. Her hips swayed without permission when he walked. The tug of the denim skirt around her thighs was tighter than he was used to, the waistband sitting higher, the soft curtain of hair continuously falling into his eyes. And he kept fighting the urge to run his fingertips over her lustrous, satiny skin.
Philip thanked his lucky stars that it was late afternoon sliding toward evening and most of the Theta girls were either at dinner, in class, or busy with the mixer prep.
The second piece of good luck was the fact that the first year members of the sorority had the downstairs bedrooms and Katy and Vanessa had their names picked out in glittery wooden letters on their door. Which saved him and Jack from being caught wandering aimlessly into someone else’s room and rifling through their underwear.
“Come on,” he hissed at Jack, nearly having heart failure when he heard Vanessa’s sweet, bubbly voice, before remembering it came from his own mouth.
As soon as they entered the room, Philip froze like a deer in headlights.
The room smelled like them. A heady mix of perfume, make-up and detergent. Several photos of Vanessa and Katy were pinned to the notice board. Keys with a little Theta charm lay on a desk. Lip gloss on each bedside table. A folded flyer about the upcoming mixer. Every object made him feel like an intruder in a life that wasn’t his.
Then he looked up and saw his reflection thrown back at him from the floor length mirror fastened to the opposite wall. Vanessa stared back. Her round face framed by shiny black hair, lips glossed in pale pink, eyes wide with Philip’s panic.
“This isn’t possible,” he murmured hoarsely.
Jack crossed the room with Katy’s energetic stride, hair swinging over her shoulder. He leaned down, far too close, eyes alight with mischief.
“Possible or not, it’s happening. And we’ve got hours before it wears off. Wanna play?” Philip’s pulse thundered. He was in Vanessa’s body. Jack was in Katy’s. He had no idea what their real bodies were doing or where, only that they were not here. For the first time since pledging Delta, he realized he was more terrified of his best friend than of any frat brother.
Jack was practically bouncing around like a kid in a candy store, repeatedly mentioning how awesome it is to have tits.
“This is insane,” Philip muttered, running a hand through Vanessa’s long hair. The strands slipped through his fingers like silk, brushing the back of his neck, constantly in his peripheral vision. Every little tickle made him twitch. “I feel like I’m drowning in shampoo.”
Jack snorted. “Yeah. It’s fucking awesome. Look at this.” He shook his head, letting Katy’s long, dark hair fall over her shoulders, framing her face, then bit her lower lip between her teeth and winked at Philip seductively. “Tell me this doesn’t look hot.”
Philip turned away, but not before catching a glimpse of the curve of Katy’s collarbone, the tan line along her shoulder where a sports bra must’ve once sat. He gritted his teeth.
“We’re only here to grab underwear and then we get out. That’s it.” Jack made a distracted sound, which didn’t entirely sound like agreement.
He was testing everything. Squeezing Katy’s biceps and delighting in the subtle muscle definition, stretching out one long leg and flexing her calf muscles, even bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet as if testing how springy she was.
Philip was still focused on the reflection in the mirror. He stepped closer, and the image followed, familiar and foreign all at once. He raised a hand. She raised a hand. Jack appeared beside him, sliding Katy’s body into view. She was taller, leaner, her shoulders broader than Vanessa’s.
Katy was studious and fairly quiet normally, but Jack’s grin warped her into something hungry. A femme fatale in search of her next prey.
“Dude, look at us,” Jack whispered. “We actually pulled it off. We’re fucking hot!”
Philip swallowed, heat crawling up his neck. “We shouldn’t be looking. This is… it’s too much.”
“Too much fun,” Jack corrected. He pressed closer to the mirror, tilting Katy’s head, pursing her lips, sticking out her tongue just to see how it looked. He laughed in delight. “God, the way this mouth moves, it’s unreal.”
Philip tried to drag his eyes away, but curiosity betrayed him. His gaze dipped, catching sight of Vanessa’s chest in the reflection. The neckline of her shirt clung close, clearly showing the outline of her nipples. He bit the inside of his cheek and turned away sharply. He was not going to lift her top and take a peek.
“You’re staring,” Jack teased, slipping behind him and resting Katy’s hands on Vanessa’s hips.
Katy’s reflection loomed over Vanessa’s smaller frame in the mirror. “What’s it like, having the body of your crush? Bet you’ve fantasized about having unfettered access to her before. Touching every inch of her. Running your palms over her perky tits. Cupping her pussy.”
Philip’s face went hot. “Shut up.”
Jack leaned closer, his voice dropping, Katy’s lips brushing dangerously near Philip’s ear. “She’s soft, isn’t she? Curvy. Everything you imagined. And she’s right here. Aching to know what your hands would feel like sliding all over her.”
Philip’s breath caught. He could feel the warmth of Jack’s presence, the whisper of Katy’s hair brushing his cheek. He tried to step away, but Vanessa’s body didn’t obey with the same steadiness as his own.
His hip bumped the desk, throwing him off balance. Jack’s hand shot out, steadying him. Grabbing his hips instead of his arm. Philip stiffened. The pressure of Katy’s palm against Vanessa’s midriff was startling. A hot reminder that this wasn’t a joke anymore.
“Jack,” Philip said, voice low with warning. But Jack only grinned, tightening his grip slightly, fingertips sliding along the hem of Vanessa’s shirt, tickling the strip of skin underneath.
“Relax. We’ve got time before the potion wears off. Why waste it panicking when we could explore?”
Philip shoved his hand away, heart hammering too fast. “We came here for one reason. Don’t fuck this up with your usual bullshit.”
Jack backed off in mock surrender, leaning against the wall and raising Katy’s hands. “Fine, fine. You want to pass up a once in a lifetime opportunity by being a pussy, instead of playing with one, go ahead.”
Philip ignored him and pulled open one of the dresser drawers, coming face to face with the mother lode.
A mass of lace and cotton, bright colors and neutrals, G-strings and briefs and bras, all folded neatly in little piles. He fumbled, pulling out a pair at random, trying not to notice the little bow stitched along the waistband, or theorize about which of the girls it belonged to.
“Got it,” he muttered, stuffing it into his pocket. “We should leave and go and stash this somewhere so we can retrieve it when we’re us again.”
“Plenty of time for that. Are you seriously passing up the opportunity to find out what turns your crush on?”
Philip’s chest heaved, the bra beneath his shirt pinching tighter with the movement. Every tiny sensation was amplified in this shape. He had no idea girls had such sensitive bodies. If Vanessa's neck and shoulders were this responsive to stimuli, what about the more… delicate areas?
Jack leaned against the wall, watching his friend closely. Katy’s arms crossed under her breasts, pushing them up in a way that made Philip avert his eyes.
“You really think you can ignore this?” Jack asked softly. “Ignore her?”
Philip didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Because the truth was, even as he tried to ignore it, every nerve in Vanessa’s body was alive with a tingling feeling he couldn’t shut off.
He told himself he wouldn’t look at the mirror again. That he had the underwear and all that was left to do was wait for the potion to burn off. But every time he moved, Vanessa’s body reminded him he wasn’t himself. The way her thighs brushed together when he shifted his stance. The heat trapped in the curve between her breasts. The way her nipples tightened when she saw the way Katy stared at her. The sudden, sharp contraction of pleasure between her legs.
Each detail was louder than thought. And Jack wouldn’t fucking give him space to breathe.
“You’re wound too tight,” Jack murmured, stepping closer again. Katy’s taller body loomed behind him, all lean lines and toned strength. He set Katy’s hands on Vanessa's shoulders from behind, massaging with deliberate slowness.
“Loosen up.”
Philip froze. The sensation was alien. Slender fingers pressing into the slope of Vanessa’s shoulders, kneading muscle softer than his own. His back arched without meaning to, chest pushing forward. He could feel the heat in his panties and almost smell the pheromones in the air.
“Jack-”
“Shh.”
Katy’s breath ghosted over his ear, warm and taunting. “Allow her to feel it. Her body isn’t fighting me. She likes this.”
Philip hated the way heat rippled through him at the words. The way Vanessa’s nipples pebbled instantly, turning aching and hard beneath her bra when Jack’s thumbs kept sensually running across her muscles.
He tried to step away, but Jack’s grip on her waist drew her back. Katy’s chest pressed flush against Vanessa’s back. Firm breasts molding against soft skin. Philip gasped, a small, betraying sound.
“That’s it,” Jack whispered, lips brushing the shell of Vanessa's ear. “You feel that, don’t you? How different it is?”
Philip bit his lip hard. But it didn’t stop his body from reacting. His chest ached with sensitivity, every brush of fabric against his nipples sparking hot shivers. His hips shifted against Jack’s hold, searching without meaning to. His ass pressing back, almost expecting to feel an erect cock there, relaxing when all he encountered was softness.
Jack slid one hand lower, over Vanessa’s flat stomach, fingertips grazing the waist of her denim skirt. Philip’s pulse spiked. He could feel the shape of her body in ways he’d only imagined.
“God, you’re actually shaking,” Jack teased. He pressed his palm harder, dragging upward until he cupped one of Vanessa’s breasts through her shirt. His hand molded perfectly to the curve, fingers sinking in slightly before closing over the nipples and pinching.
Philip jolted like he’d been shocked. The pressure sent heat exploding through him. So much sharper than he ever imagined. A moan slipped out, broken and needy, before he could stop it. Jack laughed low, his voice a husky echo in Katy’s mouth.
“I knew it. You’re loving this.”
Philip shook his head, but his body betrayed him. Vanessa’s breasts were soft in his own hands when Jack pulled them into place, squeezing and kneading.
The ache in his chest spread downward, a molten restlessness that coiled between his legs, where there was no longer any familiar weight. Only a slick, sensitive heat that made his thighs tense. Jack leaned closer, kissing the side of Vanessa's neck.
Katy’s lips left tingling sparks against her skin. He gasped again, tilting his head back without meaning to, giving Jack room to explore.
“You always wanted to know what she felt like, didn’t you?” Jack murmured between kisses. “Now you do. Every inch. Every little twitch. If you ever get the chance, you could make her cum in minutes.”
Philip squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t want to want this. But Vanessa’s body was singing beneath his skin, her curves hypersensitive to every touch, every squeeze. When Jack dragged his hand lower, cupping the swell of her ass through denim, Philip’s knees went weak. He stumbled, and they tumbled together onto the nearest bed. Vanessa’s smaller frame pinned beneath Katy’s.
Jack landed on top, grinning down, hair falling in a dark curtain around their faces. “Just lie back and enjoy it,” he said, voice husky. “I’ll do all the work and you can take notes in your head.”
Katy’s hips pressed down, grinding just enough for Philip to feel the press of her pussy against Vanessa's. The pleasure nearly made him see stars. What would it feel like if Katy actually touched her clit? Dragged her tongue over it? Sucked it between those soft lips?
Philip whimpered, his hands trapped between them, pressed against the curves of Katy’s sides. He could feel the warmth of skin through fabric. Every nerve screamed with arousal. Jack leaned down, lips hovering over his.
“Tell me you don’t want this.”
Philip’s heart thundered. His lips parted, and he didn’t know if he was going to say I don’t or kiss Katy. His pulse roared in his ears. He could feel the weight of Vanessa’s chest rising and falling too fast, her heartbeat thundering in her ribs like a trapped animal.
Jack hovered over him, Katy’s taller frame caging him against the mattress, their borrowed hair spilling together in a curtain that smelled faintly of fruit.
“This isn’t funny anymore,” Philip rasped, but his voice cracked, betraying the tremor of arousal under the words.
Jack smirked. “I’m not joking.” He lowered Katy’s body until their breasts touched, brushing Katy’s peaked nipples against Vanessa’s rock hard ones. The friction alone made Philip gasp, heat shooting through him. It wasn’t like pressing chest-to-chest with another guy.
The give, the shape, the electric sting of nipples touching, every detail was overwhelming. He had no idea breasts were so receptive to the slightest touch. Vanessa's wasn’t even uncovered and they made him squirm.
“God,” he groaned before he could stop himself. Jack’s grin widened in satisfaction.
“Feels good, doesn’t it? Every touch goes both ways. You squeeze her,” He pressed Katy’s hand down onto one of Vanessa’s breasts, forcing Philip to feel it fully, “And you are her.”
Philip arched into the contact despite himself. His hands moved up without any conscious thought. The weight of her breast in his palm, the nipple reacting instantly under his touch, each tiny spark flooded through him in a way his male body never reacted to anything but pressure on his cock.
He kneaded once, twice, and heat surged low in his stomach, between his thighs, turning his panties damp. His back bowed off the mattress, mouth falling open in a helpless sound.
Jack kissed him then. Katy’s mouth grazing Vanessa's jaw, the corner of her mouth, teasing as it moved around.
Every brush of her sweet lips left a wet, burning mark. Philip turned away, breathless, but Jack followed, biting gently at Vanessa’s neck until Philip gasped.
His thighs clenched hard. Something slick and molten was spreading there, pulsing with every beat of his heart. He could feel the absence, the soft, tender heat where his cock would usually be straining.
The pressure of denim against it only sharpened the ache. He needed Jack to touch Vanessa's pussy. He needed pressure. Jack ground down lightly and Philip bucked up helplessly, his own hands gripping Katy’s hips tight, chasing the friction he’d die without.
“Stop,” he panted, but the word broke halfway, turning into a moan. Jack chuckled low.
“Your body doesn’t want me to stop.” He kissed Vanessa again. Her lips plump, glossy, trembling beneath Katy’s teasing press. Philip’s breath hitched and his tongue flicked nervously against the edge of his teeth.
Every nerve screamed to close the distance, to taste what it felt like to kiss as a girl, to be kissed as a girl. Jack deepened the grind of their hips. Philip’s breath hitched sharply, a helpless whimper leaving his throat.
Heat surged through his belly, down his thighs, the ache between his legs swelling into a throbbing need. He arched against Katy, nails digging into her waist. There’s no way he was going to be able to say no. Jack had to make him cum.
Jack pulled back slightly, asking with twinkling eyes, “Shall we see how good Katy is at eating pussy?”
Philip knew what his answer should be, but his entire body was throbbing, yes yes yes.
Their mouths hovered a fraction apart, breaths mingling. The world narrowed to that single point of contact waiting to happen. Philip’s lips parted, ready, needy.
“Vanessa? Katy?” The voice cut through the fog like a blade, followed by the rap of knuckles on the door.
Philip’s eyes flew wide. Jack froze above him, both of them panting hard. “Vanessa, Katy!” another girl called from the hall. “We need you for the final discussions for tonight’s mixer!”
Silence. Only their ragged breaths, the hot press of bodies still locked together. Jack swore under his breath, rolling off Vanessa reluctantly.
“Just when things were about to get really good.”
Philip scrambled upright, Vanessa’s hair tangling in his face, chest heaving, nipples still hard and aching. He shoved shaky hands through the strands, trying to compose himself, though the slick heat between his thighs throbbed in open defiance.
He knew they should have kept their heads. If they let curiosity drag them off course they would blow the whole point of the night. The spell would end when it wanted and they had no idea when that would be.
Another knock. “Come on, you two! Hurry up! Megan saw you get in earlier, I know you’re in there.”
Jack smirked, tugging Katy’s tank top straight as if they hadn’t just been seconds from fucking each other into oblivion.
“Guess there’s more fun ahead. Don’t think you’re off the hook though, I’m still going to eat that pussy later and I fully expect to get repaid in kind.”
Philip sat frozen, heart still hammering, his mind spinning so fast he worried he might throw up.
These stories tells you about Peter Parker and his lovely redheaded big-tittied wife, Mary-Jane Waston-Parker with her transformations.
(PETER PARKER, in his classic red-and-blue Spider-Man suit, though the mask is off and pushed back like a hood, sits on a comfortable couch next to his wife, MARY JANE WATSON-PARKER. She’s stunning, with a cascade of fiery red hair and a confident, loving smile. They’re both turned slightly, as if addressing a camera. A soft, romantic light glows around them.)
PETER: (Clears his throat, a little nervous) So, uh… hey. Hi. If you’re watching this, you probably know the deal. Radioactive spider, great power, great responsibility, all that. The whole… thing.
MARY JANE: (Laughs, a warm, rich sound. She playfully elbows him.) The whole ‘thing’? Tiger, you saved the city, like, a dozen times last week. You can say it. You’re Spider-Man. The Amazing Spider-Man.
PETER: (Blushes slightly, smiling at her) Right. That. And this… this is my wife, Mary Jane. The most amazing woman in any universe, multiverse, or frankly, any conceivable dimension. Geez, I'm just getting tired of all the multiverse now.
MARY JANE: (She leans into him, her head on his shoulder) Flatterer. But he’s not wrong. We’ve been through it all, haven’t we, Pete? That dorky, nervous kid from Queens who tripped over his own feet asking me out…
PETER: (Groans good-naturedly) Do we have to bring that up?
MARY JANE: Absolutely. And our first kiss… up on that web-line, with the city lights sparkling below us. I knew you were my Spider then. I’ve known you were Spider-Man since we were teenagers, and I’ve loved every single crazy, web-slinging, villain-punching minute of it.
PETER: (He looks at her, his expression full of adoration) And we got married. For real. No devil deals, no retcons, no editors from on high deciding we’d be better off miserable and apart. Just… us.
MARY JANE: (Her expression turns wry, addressing the ‘camera’ directly) You hear that, certain comic book writers? We’re happy. We’re together. We’re a team. And we have a life that’s… well, let’s just say it’s never, ever boring.
PETER: Understatement of the century, MJ. Because while my life is pretty consistently weird, yours… yours has taken some truly unexpected turns.
MARY JANE: (A mischievous glint appears in her emerald eyes) Oh, you have no idea. Or, well, I guess you’re about to. We thought we’d share some stories. The kind of stories they’d never let us tell in the funny pages these days. The good stuff.
PETER: (Rubs the back of his neck, a familiar gesture) Right. The… ahem… transformative experiences.
MARY JANE: (She grins, a brilliantly wicked smile) That’s one way to put it. Remember that time, a few years back, when that weird black goo from space didn’t latch onto you, Tiger? It decided it liked my fashion sense better, including improving everything within me.
PETER: How could I forget? I came home and instead of my beautiful wife, there was… a towering, powerful, incredibly voluptuous creature of pure alien symbiote. White spider emblem and everything. You called yourself… Venom or Venomess.
MARY JANE: (Her voice drops to a playful, sultry growl) We… are Venom. And we had… needs. Very specific, very physical needs. And let’s just say my strong, sticky husband was more than equipped to handle them. All those extra tendrils came in very handy.
PETER: (His face is now completely red. He fans himself with his hand.) Wow. Okay. Yeah. That’s… that’s a story. Then there was the summer you and I went to Central Park and found that weird geode that fell from the sky…
MARY JANE: Oh, the Omnitrix! Yeah, instead of a kid named Ben Tennyson, I received it instead. One touch and suddenly I had access to many alien forms. Pyronite was great for roasting marshmallows, Tetramand was basically She-Hulk but an alien with four arms and four eyes… but my personal favorite is Galvanic Mechamorph because it would allow us to-
PETER: (Sputtering) MJ! The kids might—
MARY JANE: They’re not listening! Relax, tiger. Then there was the mishap at that gala at the Natural History Museum. I fell right into the exhibit…
PETER: The Clayface exhibit! Yes, I remember. Plus, Bruce Wayne and Reed Richards help you recover yourself from Joker. At that time, it didn't work right away. By the time I takes you home, you’re starts to become a shapeshifting mound of living clay. And you know what? You were still the most beautiful woman in the room. Even if you're a blob clay monster. That was… a unique experience.
MARY JANE: (Winking) You didn’t complain. Not once. And let’s not forget your own upgrade, Mr. Kamen Rider. When that ancient belt fused with your web-shooters…
PETER: (Strikes a mock-heroic pose) “Henshin!” Yeah, the armored suit was cool, I’ll admit. But it was nothing compared to you bursting through our bedroom wall as Cutey Honey, ready for… ahem… ‘action’.
MARY JANE: “Honey Flash!” It was all in the name of justice. And very, very thorough lovemaking.
(They both laugh, lost in the memory for a moment. Peter looks at MJ with utter love.)
PETER: Through it all… symbiote, aliens, clay, magical girl transformations, and many things… you’ve always been you, MJ. My Mary Jane. And I wouldn’t change a single, bizarre, incredible second of it.
MARY JANE: Me neither, Tiger. Me neither. Now, how about we tell our friends here about the time I—
(Suddenly, a door bursts open off-screen. A young girl, MAYDAY PARKER, about 8 years old, runs in, followed by her little brother, BENJY, who’s about 5.)
MAYDAY: Mom! Dad! Uncle Johnny is on fire in the backyard again!
BENJY: (Holding a action figure) He says it’s ‘flame on’ but it’s just the barbecue! It’s boring!
(Peter and MJ look at each other and sigh in perfect, happy unison.)
PETER: (To the ‘camera’, shrugging apologetically) Duty—and family—calls. Don’t worry, True Believers… there are plenty more stories where those came from.
MARY JANE: (Blows a kiss) And they’re all much, much better than ‘One More Day’. Promise!
(They get up from the couch, Peter swooping Benjy into his arms while MJ puts an arm around Mayday, and they walk out of the frame together, a perfect, loving, chaotic family.)
[STORY TITLE CARD APPEARS:]
PETER PARKER THE AMAZING SPIDER-MAN & MARY-JANE WITH MANY TRANSFORMATIONS STORIES
[UPCOMING ATTRACTIONS LIST:]
* Peter Parker and Mary-Jane - The Amazing SPIDER-MAN & Venomess What if Mary-Jane bonds and has the symbiote at first instead Peter Parker.
* Spider-Man & MJ-10 What if Mary-Jane wields and have the Omnitrix instead of Ben Tennyson
* Spider-Man & ClayMJ MJ becomes a shapeshifting clay creature, and Peter proves his love is more than skin deep.
(PETER PARKER, in his classic red-and-blue Spider-Man suit, though the mask is off and pushed back like a hood, sits on a comfortable couch next to his wife, MARY JANE WATSON-PARKER. She’s stunning, with a cascade of fiery red hair and a confident, loving smile. They’re both turned slightly, as if addressing a camera. A soft, romantic light glows around them.)
PETER: (Clears his throat, a little nervous) So, uh… hey. Hi. If you’re watching this, you probably know the deal. Radioactive spider, great power, great responsibility, all that. The whole… thing.
MARY JANE: (Laughs, a warm, rich sound. She playfully elbows him.) The whole ‘thing’? Tiger, you saved the city, like, a dozen times last week. You can say it. You’re Spider-Man. The Amazing Spider-Man.
PETER: (Blushes slightly, smiling at her) Right. That. And this… this is my wife, Mary Jane. The most amazing woman in any universe, multiverse, or frankly, any conceivable dimension. Geez, I'm just getting tired of all the multiverse now.
MARY JANE: (She leans into him, her head on his shoulder) Flatterer. But he’s not wrong. We’ve been through it all, haven’t we, Pete? That dorky, nervous kid from Queens who tripped over his own feet asking me out…
PETER: (Groans good-naturedly) Do we have to bring that up?
MARY JANE: Absolutely. And our first kiss… up on that web-line, with the city lights sparkling below us. I knew you were my Spider then. I’ve known you were Spider-Man since we were teenagers, and I’ve loved every single crazy, web-slinging, villain-punching minute of it.
PETER: (He looks at her, his expression full of adoration) And we got married. For real. No devil deals, no retcons, no editors from on high deciding we’d be better off miserable and apart. Just… us.
MARY JANE: (Her expression turns wry, addressing the ‘camera’ directly) You hear that, certain comic book writers? We’re happy. We’re together. We’re a team. And we have a life that’s… well, let’s just say it’s never, ever boring.
PETER: Understatement of the century, MJ. Because while my life is pretty consistently weird, yours… yours has taken some truly unexpected turns.
MARY JANE: (A mischievous glint appears in her emerald eyes) Oh, you have no idea. Or, well, I guess you’re about to. We thought we’d share some stories. The kind of stories they’d never let us tell in the funny pages these days. The good stuff.
PETER: (Rubs the back of his neck, a familiar gesture) Right. The… ahem… transformative experiences.
MARY JANE: (She grins, a brilliantly wicked smile) That’s one way to put it. Remember that time, a few years back, when that weird black goo from space didn’t latch onto you, Tiger? It decided it liked my fashion sense better, including improving everything within me.
PETER: How could I forget? I came home and instead of my beautiful wife, there was… a towering, powerful, incredibly voluptuous creature of pure alien symbiote. White spider emblem and everything. You called yourself… Venom or Venomess.
MARY JANE: (Her voice drops to a playful, sultry growl) We… are Venom. And we had… needs. Very specific, very physical needs. And let’s just say my strong, sticky husband was more than equipped to handle them. All those extra tendrils came in very handy.
PETER: (His face is now completely red. He fans himself with his hand.) Wow. Okay. Yeah. That’s… that’s a story. Then there was the summer you and I went to Central Park and found that weird geode that fell from the sky…
MARY JANE: Oh, the Omnitrix! Yeah, instead of a kid named Ben Tennyson, I received it instead. One touch and suddenly I had access to many alien forms. Pyronite was great for roasting marshmallows, Tetramand was basically She-Hulk but an alien with four arms and four eyes… but my personal favorite is Galvanic Mechamorph because it would allow us to-
PETER: (Sputtering) MJ! The kids might—
MARY JANE: They’re not listening! Relax, tiger. Then there was the mishap at that gala at the Natural History Museum. I fell right into the exhibit…
PETER: The Clayface exhibit! Yes, I remember. Plus, Bruce Wayne and Reed Richards help you recover yourself from Joker. At that time, it didn't work right away. By the time I takes you home, you’re starts to become a shapeshifting mound of living clay. And you know what? You were still the most beautiful woman in the room. Even if you're a blob clay monster. That was… a unique experience.
MARY JANE: (Winking) You didn’t complain. Not once. And let’s not forget your own upgrade, Mr. Kamen Rider. When that ancient belt fused with your web-shooters…
PETER: (Strikes a mock-heroic pose) “Henshin!” Yeah, the armored suit was cool, I’ll admit. But it was nothing compared to you bursting through our bedroom wall as Cutey Honey, ready for… ahem… ‘action’.
MARY JANE: “Honey Flash!” It was all in the name of justice. And very, very thorough lovemaking.
(They both laugh, lost in the memory for a moment. Peter looks at MJ with utter love.)
PETER: Through it all… symbiote, aliens, clay, magical girl transformations, and many things… you’ve always been you, MJ. My Mary Jane. And I wouldn’t change a single, bizarre, incredible second of it.
MARY JANE: Me neither, Tiger. Me neither. Now, how about we tell our friends here about the time I—
(Suddenly, a door bursts open off-screen. A young girl, MAYDAY PARKER, about 8 years old, runs in, followed by her little brother, BENJY, who’s about 5.)
MAYDAY: Mom! Dad! Uncle Johnny is on fire in the backyard again!
BENJY: (Holding a action figure) He says it’s ‘flame on’ but it’s just the barbecue! It’s boring!
(Peter and MJ look at each other and sigh in perfect, happy unison.)
PETER: (To the ‘camera’, shrugging apologetically) Duty—and family—calls. Don’t worry, True Believers… there are plenty more stories where those came from.
MARY JANE: (Blows a kiss) And they’re all much, much better than ‘One More Day’. Promise!
(They get up from the couch, Peter swooping Benjy into his arms while MJ puts an arm around Mayday, and they walk out of the frame together, a perfect, loving, chaotic family.)
[STORY TITLE CARD APPEARS:]
PETER PARKER THE AMAZING SPIDER-MAN & MARY-JANE WITH MANY TRANSFORMATIONS STORIES
[UPCOMING ATTRACTIONS LIST:]
* Peter Parker and Mary-Jane - The Amazing SPIDER-MAN & Venomess What if Mary-Jane bonds and has the symbiote at first instead Peter Parker.
* Spider-Man & MJ-10 What if Mary-Jane wields and have the Omnitrix instead of Ben Tennyson
* Spider-Man & ClayMJ MJ becomes a shapeshifting clay creature, and Peter proves his love is more than skin deep.
Body-hopping story
Penny scoots past her boyfriend and out from behind the table of the booth at the
back of the bar. She rushes to embrace Logan, who slips out of my arm to return
her hug. I wait, trying to tamp down my jealousy as I watch them together. I shift
my weight from one wide leg to the other beneath my elegant red dress, a smile
plastered on my face.
My eyes drift across Penny's best friend, Sophie, and Penny's boyfriend, Brent,
still seated at the table. The low burgundy mood lighting of the bar draws long
shadows across Brent's face but doesn't obscure the physical similarities between
him and Logan. I nod politely and he returns the gesture. Beside him, Sophie
gives a tiny wave before swiping her black bangs behind her pixie ears. Penny
releases Logan and he half turns to me, slipping his hand across the small of my
back.
“Hi everyone. This is A-- Denise,” he says, almost using my real name.
“Sounds like you almost forgot who she was,” Penny teases him.
A flicker of jealousy crosses her face. I'm aware she's seen many of Logan's
girlfriends. He seems to have a new one every month, though little does she
know that I’m inside every one.
She turns her sea green eyes on me and holds out her hand. “Nice to meet you,Denise.”
“And you,” I say, slipping my ebony fingers against her cool skin.
We've met a few times before, though this is our first time meeting her in my
current body. Penny is girl-next-door cute, with a little slip of a nose, big sea
green eyes, and a tight, petite body. It's not her attractiveness I envy as much as
Logan's attraction to her.
“This is Brent,” Penny says, nodding to her boyfriend who's still seated at the
table. “And Sophie.”
“Hi,” Logan says, raising his glass in greeting.
Sophie gives a small smile. She's compact, with thick framed glasses and a
plump, shapeless body covered in a deliberately ratty black leather jacket. Nice
face, though, with a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose, and her
black bangs covering her forehead. She's got a moody goth meets trendy punk
vibe about her. Naturally, I’ve met everyone here before, but I’m used to playing
the newbie.
Penny slides back into the booth and Logan slides in on the opposite side. It's a
curved booth, so Sophie ends up sandwiched between Logan and Penny. I take
the seat on the outside across from Brent. Penny and Logan are soon deeply
engaged in conversation with the easy air of two people who've known each
other forever. That leaves me, Brent and Sophie on our own. After an awkward
pause I turn to Logan.“I'll go get some drinks,” I say.
“Oh, no, let me go.”
“No, that's all right. I'm already out.” I say, scooting out from the booth and
hurrying away.
A crowd of people stands between me and the bar but the guys in line part for
me as I nudge them aside with my breasts and flash a white-toothed smile. Men
are so simple. When I reach the bar I lean on it, exposing my heavy cleavage,
letting my tits swing down pendulously for the bartender's amusement. In the
mirror behind the bar I catch sight of my current reflection.
I'm in the body of a Black twenty-year-old with a bright smile and a heavenly
body. Curvaceous and full, with thick hips and eye-wateringly large breasts. Her
real name is Denise. I picked her up a few weeks ago on the nearby campus,
hopping into her and leaving behind the body of a twenty-five-year-old blondehaired blue-eyed Swede that I feared Logan was tiring of. I walked away,
clutching my backpack as the Swede looked around in shock, no doubt surprised
to find herself on campus when the last thing she remembered was sitting
outside the patio of the hostel in the middle of the city.
I've learned over my several lifetimes that the bodies I inhabit have no memories
of anything I do while I'm inside. To them, between one blink and the next,
weeks or months have passed. They're suddenly in an unfamiliar place, dressed
in different clothes, sometimes surrounded by complete strangers. I rarely stick
around to find how they like their new lives, though a few times I've often
wondered about them. What happened to that bald businessman with the fullfacial tattoo I gave him? Has the pastor's daughter discovered the porn films she
starred in?
The bartender approaches me, drawing my attention back to the present. He
glances at my bouncy black tits with a grin and then asks for my order. I ask for
a white wine for myself and a beer for Logan. As I wait I glance around the bar
and worry. Penny always has that effect on me. Logan insists I've nothing to be
jealous of but I see the way he looks at her, the way he drops whatever he's
doing to be by her side. And the way she looks at him when she thinks no one's
looking. He made me promise never to hop into her and so far I've kept my
word. For him.
I thought Logan would enjoy Denise and he did, for a time. But I sense he's been
distant from me lately. Has he tired of this body already? I'm willing to give him
anything he wants. We're perfect together. He must see that.
In the corner by the window I see a young twenty something hipster talking to a
vivacious blonde. Even from here I can sense the awkwardness of a first date. He
must know she's way out of his league. I wouldn't be surprised if she was a
model. She wears an effortlessly trendy white top and black jeans, both of which
cling to her supple body. Her arms are toned and her face in profile is all
beautiful angles. A face photographers love.
The bartender returns with my drinks. I pay with Denise's card and bring the
drinks back to the table. The others are laughing about something as I set down
Logan's drink.
“Did I miss something funny?” I ask, sliding in next to Logan.“Penny was just telling me about Jane from her work.”
“Ah, the one who believes in magic crystals?” I ask.
Penny raises an elegant eyebrow. Goddamn her for being so fucking adorable. I
tamp down the jealousy as it flares in me.
“Logan's told you about her, has he?” Penny asks.
I realize my error in that this body has never met Penny before, but Logan jumps
in. “We were down on the Boulevard by that herbal shop yesterday and it
reminded me of her.”
Sophie, apparently sensing an opportunity, jumps in and turns the conversation
to me. “How did you two meet?”
Penny sips her drink, occasionally swiping her auburn hair out of her eyes as I
make up some vague story about meeting outside a cafe. Logan jumps in with
some random details. We've both been enjoying my body hopping abilities long
enough to be able to convincingly lie about how we met. It's amazing how far
simply agreeing with whatever details the other person throws out will get you.
Somehow the conversation comes back around to an amusing anecdote
involving Penny and Logan. As they converse I stroke Logan's thigh with my
long fingers. He shoots me a hesitant grin, then resumes whatever story he's in
the middle of telling. Penny keeps her eyes on him. I think, not for the first time,how easy it would be to just hop into Penny's body and make Logan love me.
But would he still love me if he knew I was inside? Is it something about Penny's
Penny-ness that he loves? I can offer him anyone he wants.
Brent is the strong, silent type. He speaks only to throw in a witty remark here
and there but otherwise content to let the conversation roll over him. In those
little remarks I get a spark of his wit and wonder if that's what Penny sees in him
and if she sees that mirrored in Logan.
Sophie giggles a lot and sits low in the bar, hiding behind her drink. I've met her
a few times. She's Penny's best friend and something of a know-it-all,
unpretentiously correcting details. But she does it so well as to make the
recipient seem grateful rather than resentful. I’ve never had the pleasure of
hopping her. Never seen the need.
I spend most of the evening making up a life story about myself. Though I can
hop into these bodies I don't have any of their memories, just like they have none
of mine. All I have is what I can deduce from their physical belongings. The
invention of email and texting and social media has been a huge help for me and
has made peeling back the private details of the lives I take over so much easier.
Of course, ever since I met Logan two years ago and revealed to him my abilities
I've been able to be myself, forgoing the pretense of acting like whoever I’m in
and just being myself.
Logan is the love of my life. Before him I would sneak in between other people's
lives, trying to fit myself around someone else’s existence. It's been nice having
someone know the real me, being able to settle down and experience a human
life with someone in love with me, not the person I appear to be. I've never been
in love before. Maybe why it's why it's so goddamn maddening to watch Logan
flirt with Penny.An hour and a half, and two drinks later I'm leaning on Logan, my breasts
pressed against his shoulder. I'm half drunk—Denise is a lightweight—and I paw
at him, stroking his chest until he finally pays attention to me. He turns his big
brown eyes to me and I whisper in his ear:
“Take me home.”
Under the table, my hand slips between his legs and I give his cock a friendly
squeeze. He jumps and blushes, before making some excuse to go. I rise on
unsteady legs and cling to Logan as we walk towards the door.
“Logam... arm I boring you?” I ask, slurring my words slightly.
He takes my hand. “Ariana, of course not.”
“I just wanted to go.” I fluff out my thick dark hair as the room spins gently
around me.
“I know,” he says, squeezing my hand.
We're nearly out the door and the question of what Logan wants is foremost in
my mind when I catch sight of the vivacious blonde again. She's still with the
hipster guy and they're both in deep conversation. Close up I can see she's hot.
Much hotter than Penny but with a similar body shape. With a sudden clarity I
see that this is what Logan wants.I push away from Logan, stumbling slightly as I approach the blonde from
behind. The world is shimmery and sways back and forth with my drunkenness.
My wide hips bump into a chair but I don't stop to apologize as the owner shoots
me a look.
“Ariana, no,” Logan calls out from behind me.
I ignore him. He must know I'm doing this for him. I reach out and touch the
blonde's bare shoulder and hop into her body.
I'm suddenly sitting down on a stool that feels hard under my taut ass and the
world resolves into crystal clarity. This body isn't drunk at all. Wavy blonde hair
spills down one shoulder and my fingers clasp an icy glass. The hipster guy is in
the middle of saying something but I ignore him and push away from the table,
walking to the door where Logan still stands. This new body is a delight, slender
and firm. Logan's going to have so much fun with it.
I pass Denise without a word. She's gripping the back of a chair, swaying as she
glances around, something like terror in her eyes.
“What's going on?” She mumbles, looking down at herself, at the fancy dress I
bought for her and forced her stacked body into. It was much skimpier and much
more expensive than anything in her dorm room. Not that she’ll appreciate it.
I sometimes wish the bodies remembered what I'd done after I hopped out,
instead of my just leaving large, blank gaps. That way they would make less of ascene when I leave. Or maybe not, based on some of the things I've made them
do. As it is, the best way to deal with someone suddenly being snapped back to
an unfamiliar present is to get away. Logan—and everyone else in the room—is
gawking at Denise as she starts to panic. I slip my new arm through Logan's and
usher him out the door. The hipster guy watches in astonishment as I go. He'll
soon be distracted by the new amusement of Denise having a complete
breakdown in the middle of the room.2
I'm still laughing about Denise when we arrive at Logan's apartment. He shuts
the door behind us and I turn to him, pressing my new hands against his chest.
These hands are soft and delicate, the fingernails painted a deep burgundy.
They've never done a hard day's work. This pampered princess is my gift to him.
Logan grabs my hands but instead of kissing them he looks down at me angrily.
“Why did you do that, Ariana?”
“Do what?”
“Take this woman's body and leave Denise there.”
“You don't like her?” I look down at the tight little body I possess, at the taut pair
of breasts sticking out invitingly from my chest, at the jeans that are practically
painted on to my legs and which highlight my perfect heart shaped ass. Okay,
these tits are much smaller, but it all works together. What could Logan possibly
have against perfection?
“What if Penny sees Denise? What do you think she'll say if she finds my
current girlfriend alone in the bar insisting she's someone else?”
“Oh, so this is about Penny?” I scowl and pull back from him, balling my handsinto tiny fists.
“No,” he insists, running his hands through his wild brown hair. “It's about
everything. It's about you taking these people's lives. I've never seen you do it
before and I didn't realize--”
“You didn't realize what I am? Without someone else’s body I don’t exist. I
choose them for you, baby. Maybe if I'd taken Penny you'd be a lot more
grateful.”
“No! Don't take--” He shouts, then softer: “No. No. That's-- that's not what I
meant. I know you're a hopper.”
I let him take my fists and he runs his thumbs across the back of each hand,
stroking me gently.
“I don't need you to take anyone,” he says, “Not like that.”
“I just want to make you happy. I'm yours and you're mine.” I frown.
“I know,” he says, and kisses the back of my hands.
“When I see you with Penny--” I start but he pulls me close and shushes me with
a kiss.“Let's not think about Penny. Let's just think about us.”
There's an odd tone to his voice but we kiss again and I forget my worries as I
melt into him. This petite blonde body I'm in is sexy and fun as hell. I drape my
arms around Logan's neck and suck on his tongue, enjoying his masculine taste
while I rest my perky tits against his chest. He grips me firmly by the waist and
we kiss urgently. His hands feel so big on my tiny body and I get the feeling he
could throw me around and do what he wants with me. The feeling of
powerlessness is a thrill that sends little shivers down my spine.
Still kissing, I drag my hands down his shoulder blades and then down his back,
before slipping beneath his shirt to run my fingers across his pecs. He's warm
and firm. Everything I need.
We undress each other with reckless abandon, throwing clothes across the room
until we're both naked. We take the time to look down at my body, admiring this
woman's petite form. I do a little spin for Logan, sliding my hands around the
enticing curves of my taut ass, showing off this stranger's naked body. My tits
are small and firm, rising to sharp peaks, the nipples just out, hard as diamonds.
My blonde hair spills down my shoulders and my laugh is high pitched and cute
as Logan strokes my cheek. He stares deeply into my eyes before taking me back
in his arms. His cock is hard and pressed against my stomach. My hands slide
down between us and I grasp him, stroking gently.
His warm cock fills my hand as I stroke it, feeling impossibly big beneath my
tiny fingers. His hands find my tits, squeeze gently, then glide down my back to
my ass and cup each butt cheek. He squeezes once and returns his attention to
my tits. He's greedy for my new body and he explores me by touch while we
continue kissing. His hands work across my chest as my hand moves up and
down his shaft and soon his warm pre-cum is dotted on my stomach.I get on my knees in front of him, eager to please, knowing exactly how to
please him. His cock is bold and throbbing, pointing at my face. I open my new
mouth and take him in between my soft red lips, closing my eyes in ecstasy as
his warmth slides between my lips and across my tongue. I drag my mouth down
his delicious cock as far as I can before pulling back up, leaving his shaft slick
and shiny. I pull off, a strand of saliva still connecting my lips to the head of his
cock. I look up at him with wide, innocent eyes and he returns my gaze and
strokes my cheek.
I lick my lips and dive back down on his cock, sucking eagerly, using my little
hand to stroke the base of his cock to the rhythm of my blowjob. He groans
above me as I fill my mouth with him. My free hand dives between my legs, my
fingers slipping into my growing wetness. This little blonde bombshell is horny
as hell and eager for a good fucking. Her pussy feels so tight and wet. I know
Logan is going to love it.
I suck Logan's dick, speeding up and slowing down to his rhythm, keeping him
just on the edge. His tangy pre-cum drips across my tongue and I swallow
happily. All the while I stroke my new pussy, exploring my velvety folds.
They're slick and warm with lust. When Logan's moans grow louder he grabs my
blonde locks in a fist and holds me still.
“Not yet,” he hisses between clenched teeth, fighting to get himself under
control.
He throbs once, twice in my mouth, and then stills, holding himself in check. He
removes his hand and I pull back off his cock with a wet pop. My new pussy is
dripping, a light bead of juice making its way down my thighs.I pull him onto the floor on top of me, spreading my limber legs and wrapping
them around his waist, urging him closer. He grabs his cock and aims it at my
center. I watch with glee as I open for him, the head of his cock disappearing
between my velvety pussy lips. The glorious pressure builds against my tight
entrance, growing, growing, and then I stretch for him. He enters me slowly,
delicately, and it's all I can do to not beg him to hurry, to slip deep inside and fill
me. Inch by inch he enters, and I hurry him by raising my hips and enveloping
him with a throaty moan. I'm so tight and he feels so big but, god, it's just what
this little body needs.
Christ, I can feel all of his shaft as it curves up through me, filling me. He lodges
right against the dimpled nub of my inner center, holding there, before
withdrawing. My hands come to my new tits. I'm still getting used to them,
they're much smaller and firmer than Denise's, but fun nonetheless. I caress
them, pinch and squeeze, tweaking each nipple, trying to find what this body
likes.
Logan rests his body on mine, hands running up my sides as he kisses down my
front, and I have to move one hand so his lips and teeth can find a nipple. His hot
breath sends shivers across my skin, and he nips at me as he thrusts his cock
inside. The heat is twisting through me and I need this so much. I clutch him
tighter, both of us playing with my nipples as he fucks me harder. The wet
sounds of my pussy fill my ears and I throw my head back as the heat blisters
through me. I cry out loud, my voice high pitched and needy as I cum.
Logan thrusts deep and grunts, throbbing into me. Every spurt is magical,
bringing with it an incredible fullness, a wet heat that burns me so beautifully. I
clutch him tight and cry out, my body joyous for release as the orgasm spills
through me. We grunt and rock together, connected by hands lips, tongues, and
cock, our bodies moving together in blissful harmony. Logan slows and rests on
top of me, his wonderful weight pressing me to the floor. I stroke his back while
he grows soft inside of me, finally slipping out and leaving me achingly empty.He hoists me in his arms and carries me to the bedroom, kissing me once before
setting me on the bed. I fall asleep with my arm clutching him from behind, his
warm body pressing against me, his masculine smell deep in my nose.
Penny scoots past her boyfriend and out from behind the table of the booth at the
back of the bar. She rushes to embrace Logan, who slips out of my arm to return
her hug. I wait, trying to tamp down my jealousy as I watch them together. I shift
my weight from one wide leg to the other beneath my elegant red dress, a smile
plastered on my face.
My eyes drift across Penny's best friend, Sophie, and Penny's boyfriend, Brent,
still seated at the table. The low burgundy mood lighting of the bar draws long
shadows across Brent's face but doesn't obscure the physical similarities between
him and Logan. I nod politely and he returns the gesture. Beside him, Sophie
gives a tiny wave before swiping her black bangs behind her pixie ears. Penny
releases Logan and he half turns to me, slipping his hand across the small of my
back.
“Hi everyone. This is A-- Denise,” he says, almost using my real name.
“Sounds like you almost forgot who she was,” Penny teases him.
A flicker of jealousy crosses her face. I'm aware she's seen many of Logan's
girlfriends. He seems to have a new one every month, though little does she
know that I’m inside every one.
She turns her sea green eyes on me and holds out her hand. “Nice to meet you,Denise.”
“And you,” I say, slipping my ebony fingers against her cool skin.
We've met a few times before, though this is our first time meeting her in my
current body. Penny is girl-next-door cute, with a little slip of a nose, big sea
green eyes, and a tight, petite body. It's not her attractiveness I envy as much as
Logan's attraction to her.
“This is Brent,” Penny says, nodding to her boyfriend who's still seated at the
table. “And Sophie.”
“Hi,” Logan says, raising his glass in greeting.
Sophie gives a small smile. She's compact, with thick framed glasses and a
plump, shapeless body covered in a deliberately ratty black leather jacket. Nice
face, though, with a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose, and her
black bangs covering her forehead. She's got a moody goth meets trendy punk
vibe about her. Naturally, I’ve met everyone here before, but I’m used to playing
the newbie.
Penny slides back into the booth and Logan slides in on the opposite side. It's a
curved booth, so Sophie ends up sandwiched between Logan and Penny. I take
the seat on the outside across from Brent. Penny and Logan are soon deeply
engaged in conversation with the easy air of two people who've known each
other forever. That leaves me, Brent and Sophie on our own. After an awkward
pause I turn to Logan.“I'll go get some drinks,” I say.
“Oh, no, let me go.”
“No, that's all right. I'm already out.” I say, scooting out from the booth and
hurrying away.
A crowd of people stands between me and the bar but the guys in line part for
me as I nudge them aside with my breasts and flash a white-toothed smile. Men
are so simple. When I reach the bar I lean on it, exposing my heavy cleavage,
letting my tits swing down pendulously for the bartender's amusement. In the
mirror behind the bar I catch sight of my current reflection.
I'm in the body of a Black twenty-year-old with a bright smile and a heavenly
body. Curvaceous and full, with thick hips and eye-wateringly large breasts. Her
real name is Denise. I picked her up a few weeks ago on the nearby campus,
hopping into her and leaving behind the body of a twenty-five-year-old blondehaired blue-eyed Swede that I feared Logan was tiring of. I walked away,
clutching my backpack as the Swede looked around in shock, no doubt surprised
to find herself on campus when the last thing she remembered was sitting
outside the patio of the hostel in the middle of the city.
I've learned over my several lifetimes that the bodies I inhabit have no memories
of anything I do while I'm inside. To them, between one blink and the next,
weeks or months have passed. They're suddenly in an unfamiliar place, dressed
in different clothes, sometimes surrounded by complete strangers. I rarely stick
around to find how they like their new lives, though a few times I've often
wondered about them. What happened to that bald businessman with the fullfacial tattoo I gave him? Has the pastor's daughter discovered the porn films she
starred in?
The bartender approaches me, drawing my attention back to the present. He
glances at my bouncy black tits with a grin and then asks for my order. I ask for
a white wine for myself and a beer for Logan. As I wait I glance around the bar
and worry. Penny always has that effect on me. Logan insists I've nothing to be
jealous of but I see the way he looks at her, the way he drops whatever he's
doing to be by her side. And the way she looks at him when she thinks no one's
looking. He made me promise never to hop into her and so far I've kept my
word. For him.
I thought Logan would enjoy Denise and he did, for a time. But I sense he's been
distant from me lately. Has he tired of this body already? I'm willing to give him
anything he wants. We're perfect together. He must see that.
In the corner by the window I see a young twenty something hipster talking to a
vivacious blonde. Even from here I can sense the awkwardness of a first date. He
must know she's way out of his league. I wouldn't be surprised if she was a
model. She wears an effortlessly trendy white top and black jeans, both of which
cling to her supple body. Her arms are toned and her face in profile is all
beautiful angles. A face photographers love.
The bartender returns with my drinks. I pay with Denise's card and bring the
drinks back to the table. The others are laughing about something as I set down
Logan's drink.
“Did I miss something funny?” I ask, sliding in next to Logan.“Penny was just telling me about Jane from her work.”
“Ah, the one who believes in magic crystals?” I ask.
Penny raises an elegant eyebrow. Goddamn her for being so fucking adorable. I
tamp down the jealousy as it flares in me.
“Logan's told you about her, has he?” Penny asks.
I realize my error in that this body has never met Penny before, but Logan jumps
in. “We were down on the Boulevard by that herbal shop yesterday and it
reminded me of her.”
Sophie, apparently sensing an opportunity, jumps in and turns the conversation
to me. “How did you two meet?”
Penny sips her drink, occasionally swiping her auburn hair out of her eyes as I
make up some vague story about meeting outside a cafe. Logan jumps in with
some random details. We've both been enjoying my body hopping abilities long
enough to be able to convincingly lie about how we met. It's amazing how far
simply agreeing with whatever details the other person throws out will get you.
Somehow the conversation comes back around to an amusing anecdote
involving Penny and Logan. As they converse I stroke Logan's thigh with my
long fingers. He shoots me a hesitant grin, then resumes whatever story he's in
the middle of telling. Penny keeps her eyes on him. I think, not for the first time,how easy it would be to just hop into Penny's body and make Logan love me.
But would he still love me if he knew I was inside? Is it something about Penny's
Penny-ness that he loves? I can offer him anyone he wants.
Brent is the strong, silent type. He speaks only to throw in a witty remark here
and there but otherwise content to let the conversation roll over him. In those
little remarks I get a spark of his wit and wonder if that's what Penny sees in him
and if she sees that mirrored in Logan.
Sophie giggles a lot and sits low in the bar, hiding behind her drink. I've met her
a few times. She's Penny's best friend and something of a know-it-all,
unpretentiously correcting details. But she does it so well as to make the
recipient seem grateful rather than resentful. I’ve never had the pleasure of
hopping her. Never seen the need.
I spend most of the evening making up a life story about myself. Though I can
hop into these bodies I don't have any of their memories, just like they have none
of mine. All I have is what I can deduce from their physical belongings. The
invention of email and texting and social media has been a huge help for me and
has made peeling back the private details of the lives I take over so much easier.
Of course, ever since I met Logan two years ago and revealed to him my abilities
I've been able to be myself, forgoing the pretense of acting like whoever I’m in
and just being myself.
Logan is the love of my life. Before him I would sneak in between other people's
lives, trying to fit myself around someone else’s existence. It's been nice having
someone know the real me, being able to settle down and experience a human
life with someone in love with me, not the person I appear to be. I've never been
in love before. Maybe why it's why it's so goddamn maddening to watch Logan
flirt with Penny.An hour and a half, and two drinks later I'm leaning on Logan, my breasts
pressed against his shoulder. I'm half drunk—Denise is a lightweight—and I paw
at him, stroking his chest until he finally pays attention to me. He turns his big
brown eyes to me and I whisper in his ear:
“Take me home.”
Under the table, my hand slips between his legs and I give his cock a friendly
squeeze. He jumps and blushes, before making some excuse to go. I rise on
unsteady legs and cling to Logan as we walk towards the door.
“Logam... arm I boring you?” I ask, slurring my words slightly.
He takes my hand. “Ariana, of course not.”
“I just wanted to go.” I fluff out my thick dark hair as the room spins gently
around me.
“I know,” he says, squeezing my hand.
We're nearly out the door and the question of what Logan wants is foremost in
my mind when I catch sight of the vivacious blonde again. She's still with the
hipster guy and they're both in deep conversation. Close up I can see she's hot.
Much hotter than Penny but with a similar body shape. With a sudden clarity I
see that this is what Logan wants.I push away from Logan, stumbling slightly as I approach the blonde from
behind. The world is shimmery and sways back and forth with my drunkenness.
My wide hips bump into a chair but I don't stop to apologize as the owner shoots
me a look.
“Ariana, no,” Logan calls out from behind me.
I ignore him. He must know I'm doing this for him. I reach out and touch the
blonde's bare shoulder and hop into her body.
I'm suddenly sitting down on a stool that feels hard under my taut ass and the
world resolves into crystal clarity. This body isn't drunk at all. Wavy blonde hair
spills down one shoulder and my fingers clasp an icy glass. The hipster guy is in
the middle of saying something but I ignore him and push away from the table,
walking to the door where Logan still stands. This new body is a delight, slender
and firm. Logan's going to have so much fun with it.
I pass Denise without a word. She's gripping the back of a chair, swaying as she
glances around, something like terror in her eyes.
“What's going on?” She mumbles, looking down at herself, at the fancy dress I
bought for her and forced her stacked body into. It was much skimpier and much
more expensive than anything in her dorm room. Not that she’ll appreciate it.
I sometimes wish the bodies remembered what I'd done after I hopped out,
instead of my just leaving large, blank gaps. That way they would make less of ascene when I leave. Or maybe not, based on some of the things I've made them
do. As it is, the best way to deal with someone suddenly being snapped back to
an unfamiliar present is to get away. Logan—and everyone else in the room—is
gawking at Denise as she starts to panic. I slip my new arm through Logan's and
usher him out the door. The hipster guy watches in astonishment as I go. He'll
soon be distracted by the new amusement of Denise having a complete
breakdown in the middle of the room.2
I'm still laughing about Denise when we arrive at Logan's apartment. He shuts
the door behind us and I turn to him, pressing my new hands against his chest.
These hands are soft and delicate, the fingernails painted a deep burgundy.
They've never done a hard day's work. This pampered princess is my gift to him.
Logan grabs my hands but instead of kissing them he looks down at me angrily.
“Why did you do that, Ariana?”
“Do what?”
“Take this woman's body and leave Denise there.”
“You don't like her?” I look down at the tight little body I possess, at the taut pair
of breasts sticking out invitingly from my chest, at the jeans that are practically
painted on to my legs and which highlight my perfect heart shaped ass. Okay,
these tits are much smaller, but it all works together. What could Logan possibly
have against perfection?
“What if Penny sees Denise? What do you think she'll say if she finds my
current girlfriend alone in the bar insisting she's someone else?”
“Oh, so this is about Penny?” I scowl and pull back from him, balling my handsinto tiny fists.
“No,” he insists, running his hands through his wild brown hair. “It's about
everything. It's about you taking these people's lives. I've never seen you do it
before and I didn't realize--”
“You didn't realize what I am? Without someone else’s body I don’t exist. I
choose them for you, baby. Maybe if I'd taken Penny you'd be a lot more
grateful.”
“No! Don't take--” He shouts, then softer: “No. No. That's-- that's not what I
meant. I know you're a hopper.”
I let him take my fists and he runs his thumbs across the back of each hand,
stroking me gently.
“I don't need you to take anyone,” he says, “Not like that.”
“I just want to make you happy. I'm yours and you're mine.” I frown.
“I know,” he says, and kisses the back of my hands.
“When I see you with Penny--” I start but he pulls me close and shushes me with
a kiss.“Let's not think about Penny. Let's just think about us.”
There's an odd tone to his voice but we kiss again and I forget my worries as I
melt into him. This petite blonde body I'm in is sexy and fun as hell. I drape my
arms around Logan's neck and suck on his tongue, enjoying his masculine taste
while I rest my perky tits against his chest. He grips me firmly by the waist and
we kiss urgently. His hands feel so big on my tiny body and I get the feeling he
could throw me around and do what he wants with me. The feeling of
powerlessness is a thrill that sends little shivers down my spine.
Still kissing, I drag my hands down his shoulder blades and then down his back,
before slipping beneath his shirt to run my fingers across his pecs. He's warm
and firm. Everything I need.
We undress each other with reckless abandon, throwing clothes across the room
until we're both naked. We take the time to look down at my body, admiring this
woman's petite form. I do a little spin for Logan, sliding my hands around the
enticing curves of my taut ass, showing off this stranger's naked body. My tits
are small and firm, rising to sharp peaks, the nipples just out, hard as diamonds.
My blonde hair spills down my shoulders and my laugh is high pitched and cute
as Logan strokes my cheek. He stares deeply into my eyes before taking me back
in his arms. His cock is hard and pressed against my stomach. My hands slide
down between us and I grasp him, stroking gently.
His warm cock fills my hand as I stroke it, feeling impossibly big beneath my
tiny fingers. His hands find my tits, squeeze gently, then glide down my back to
my ass and cup each butt cheek. He squeezes once and returns his attention to
my tits. He's greedy for my new body and he explores me by touch while we
continue kissing. His hands work across my chest as my hand moves up and
down his shaft and soon his warm pre-cum is dotted on my stomach.I get on my knees in front of him, eager to please, knowing exactly how to
please him. His cock is bold and throbbing, pointing at my face. I open my new
mouth and take him in between my soft red lips, closing my eyes in ecstasy as
his warmth slides between my lips and across my tongue. I drag my mouth down
his delicious cock as far as I can before pulling back up, leaving his shaft slick
and shiny. I pull off, a strand of saliva still connecting my lips to the head of his
cock. I look up at him with wide, innocent eyes and he returns my gaze and
strokes my cheek.
I lick my lips and dive back down on his cock, sucking eagerly, using my little
hand to stroke the base of his cock to the rhythm of my blowjob. He groans
above me as I fill my mouth with him. My free hand dives between my legs, my
fingers slipping into my growing wetness. This little blonde bombshell is horny
as hell and eager for a good fucking. Her pussy feels so tight and wet. I know
Logan is going to love it.
I suck Logan's dick, speeding up and slowing down to his rhythm, keeping him
just on the edge. His tangy pre-cum drips across my tongue and I swallow
happily. All the while I stroke my new pussy, exploring my velvety folds.
They're slick and warm with lust. When Logan's moans grow louder he grabs my
blonde locks in a fist and holds me still.
“Not yet,” he hisses between clenched teeth, fighting to get himself under
control.
He throbs once, twice in my mouth, and then stills, holding himself in check. He
removes his hand and I pull back off his cock with a wet pop. My new pussy is
dripping, a light bead of juice making its way down my thighs.I pull him onto the floor on top of me, spreading my limber legs and wrapping
them around his waist, urging him closer. He grabs his cock and aims it at my
center. I watch with glee as I open for him, the head of his cock disappearing
between my velvety pussy lips. The glorious pressure builds against my tight
entrance, growing, growing, and then I stretch for him. He enters me slowly,
delicately, and it's all I can do to not beg him to hurry, to slip deep inside and fill
me. Inch by inch he enters, and I hurry him by raising my hips and enveloping
him with a throaty moan. I'm so tight and he feels so big but, god, it's just what
this little body needs.
Christ, I can feel all of his shaft as it curves up through me, filling me. He lodges
right against the dimpled nub of my inner center, holding there, before
withdrawing. My hands come to my new tits. I'm still getting used to them,
they're much smaller and firmer than Denise's, but fun nonetheless. I caress
them, pinch and squeeze, tweaking each nipple, trying to find what this body
likes.
Logan rests his body on mine, hands running up my sides as he kisses down my
front, and I have to move one hand so his lips and teeth can find a nipple. His hot
breath sends shivers across my skin, and he nips at me as he thrusts his cock
inside. The heat is twisting through me and I need this so much. I clutch him
tighter, both of us playing with my nipples as he fucks me harder. The wet
sounds of my pussy fill my ears and I throw my head back as the heat blisters
through me. I cry out loud, my voice high pitched and needy as I cum.
Logan thrusts deep and grunts, throbbing into me. Every spurt is magical,
bringing with it an incredible fullness, a wet heat that burns me so beautifully. I
clutch him tight and cry out, my body joyous for release as the orgasm spills
through me. We grunt and rock together, connected by hands lips, tongues, and
cock, our bodies moving together in blissful harmony. Logan slows and rests on
top of me, his wonderful weight pressing me to the floor. I stroke his back while
he grows soft inside of me, finally slipping out and leaving me achingly empty.He hoists me in his arms and carries me to the bedroom, kissing me once before
setting me on the bed. I fall asleep with my arm clutching him from behind, his
warm body pressing against me, his masculine smell deep in my nose.
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