Stringless

Story created by FeverDreamer ∙ 23 April 2024

I thought that having my body possessed, my life stolen and my evenings spent tangled in a carnal carousel of degenerate sex was the worst thing that could happen to me.


I was wrong.


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  • Stringless

    Chapter written by FeverDreamer ∙ 23 April 2024

    I thought that having my body possessed, my life stolen and my evenings spent tangled in a carnal carousel of degenerate sex was the worst thing that could happen to me.

    I was wrong.

  • It had been three months since I had felt the presence slither out of my mind. Three months since I had been trapped as a helpless passenger in my own body, watching it gleefully debase itself in ways I had never dared imagine.

    There had been no warning: One moment I had been waiting in line to audition for some minor speaking role, when a sudden shiver ran through me. The person sitting next to me had asked if I was okay, and I’d tried to make a joke about how nervous I was. Instead, my body silently stood up and began to walk briskly towards the exit.

    I had tried to cry out. I tried to stop myself. I tried to trip myself up, swivel my eyes or even blink in a way that might signal to someone that something was terribly wrong, but I completely lost control of my own faculties. Some outside force had seized control of my body and walked it smartly into the elevator, taking us down to the lobby, out the studio doors and into the city’s seedy underbelly.

    Well, perhaps not exactly. As my body began to pilot itself towards what I recognised as the red light district, I felt myself almost blacking out in panic - the thought of being trapped as my body handed out back-alley blowjobs filling me with a sense of sickness beyond simple nausea.

    To my bitter relief, I watched myself sashay into the most salubrious venue in the city: More a luxury hotel than a whorehouse, but everyone knew that the turndown service included some very intimate extras.

    I felt my face flex into a charming smile to the bouncer and saw his look of amused recognition. I’d never seen the brute in my life, but I realised with horror that I was just the latest victim of whatever sick perversion was taking place.

    It is a terrible thing to feel your lips and tongue move of their own accord, speaking words not your own in a language you don’t even understand. Some cryptic collection of syllables whispered to the concierge that I could not have hoped to remember even the next day, let alone now.

    I - my body, and whatever was controlling it - was given access to the service lift, disembarking into a hall that looked like a modernised Mount Olympus: Laden tables, bubbling …

No more chapters.

JJ97TSF ∙ 24 April 2024

Subtle and dark, while still hitting all of the kinkiest parts of possession! In love with Angela's inner voice, too, it feels markedly different from the other stories I've read from you and fitting for the scenario.