Adult usage only. May produce NSFW content.
A newly married couple find their lives upended when the wife goes to work for a company where all is not as it seems.
Riley Harper was between jobs when she saw the ad. The 21 year old blonde had recently quit as a waitress at a local restaurant. She usually got great tips that she knew was more thanks to her curves than her service, but despised being hit on all the time, especially now that she was newly married. But it wasn’t okay for her to be without a job. Yesterday her husband Ben came home early from his factory. Apparently he’d been furloughed for at least 3 weeks. They didn’t have any sort of savings that would keep them in the black longer than a couple of weeks, so Riley stepped up.
She got on her phone and began job hunting, but quickly grew frustrated by how similar they were to every job she’d had before. Cashier, hostess, server, retail sales specialist. She wasn’t qualified for much else, but just once she’d like to do something that didn’t involve wearing a name tag. That’s when she came across the ad for Del Corp.
Riley clicked on it, and read about a company that was a bit of a drive away. An hour. But it paid eighty thousand dollars a year. That was four times what her last job paid! Del Corp was looking for people who could do simple data entry, and no degree was required. Then the best yet. They would let you work from home 4 of the 5 days a week! This suddenly seemed too good to be true, but what the hell. For the hope of that much money, she’d take her chances.
Riley looked for a place to begin filling out her application online, but then read that the application and interview process would only be done in person, and that candidates would …
Aisha volunteers for an unspecified medical research project, only to be left alone in a waiting room where absolutely nothing of interest happens to her. A fire in the building forces her to go home before she has a chance to participate in the experiment.
At least that's how it seems at first.
Aisha sat impatiently in the bland, sterile room. Not literally sterile, but the spartan lack of decor and drab colouring made her feel like she was waiting in an unfurnished hospital ward. Admittedly, this was hardly surprising - she’d signed up to join some kind of mysterious medical experiment at uni after all - but it wouldn’t kill them to put in a pot plant or something.
The door opened, and Aisha gratefully rose from the sole chair in the room, only to sink back down in disappointment when she was told they would be ready for her soon. Not soon enough, she thought to herself.
Her leg bounced restlessly, and she began to question whether it had been worth signing up at all. Fifty bucks was fifty bucks, but if she wound up waiting here for hours she may as well have just worked a shift at some shitty little fast food place for all the good it would do her.
She shivered. This wasn’t a good attitude to have. She closed her eyes, breathed in deeply and steadied herself. How did the saying go?
“Patience is a virtue: Possess it if you can. Very rare in women and never in a man.”
Her grandmother had taught her that. A bit mean, but she grew up in mean times. Instead of getting frustrated, Aisha decided to challenge herself to see how long she could stay perfectly still. Like a Buddhist meditation kind of thing. Just sit still, stare straight ahead and focus on her breathing.
She was so focused that she almost jumped when the door opened again.
Someone in scrubs poked their head in and asked how she was feeling.
“Fine,” she lied, though admittedly the attempted meditation had seemed to be working for a moment.
Scrubs seemed …
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 …
A government experiment to create intelligent microbial life fails, but a small sample is taken home and is eaten by an unsuspecting civilian.
Story concept blatantly stolen from When The Yoghurt Took Over.
I want to believe that it’s not my fault.
It is - it totally is - but I didn’t do it on purpose.
And while, if you had asked anyone ten years ago, “Hey, would you like your body and civilization to be hijacked by this psychic hivemind of hyper-intelligent yoghurt?” they would have obviously said no, there’s nobody alive today that would ever want things to go back to the way they were.
But I’ve skipped ahead, so let’s rewind for a second.
It started in a lab, in a country, funded by a government. Not that any of them exist anymore. I’d managed to sneak my way into a high pay, low responsibility position thanks to a doctored resume and a friend of a friend shuffling some files around.
The team I was assigned to had just completed phase one of their latest project: Genetically engineer intelligent life. And by complete phase one, I mean get greenlit and funded to actually start work.
I couldn’t tell you the exact science going on behind the scenes - like I said, high pay, low responsibility - but what I did understand was that they wanted to start with a microbe that was easy to cultivate in an environment hospitable to humans and didn’t pose any poison or toxicity risks.
Why microbes? Well, the plan was to have each cell be part of a larger network, kind of like how a single ant is pretty stupid but an entire nest is apparently much smarter. At least that’s how it was explained to me, and I was willing to take their word for it.
Anyway, we started with lactobacillus; the yoghurt bacteria. Yes, just like in that one episode of that streaming anthology. And frankly, compared to how things went …
It's not easy to bargain with demons, which Eddie discovers the hard way after he escapes death by trading his soul to the demon Azir, a handsome and charming resident of Hell. Azir promises to return Eddie's soul in exchange for allowing demons the use of his body for their own amusement. It's the last deal he wants to make, but if he wants to save his soul, it may be his only choice.
There are many common-sense rules to live by, and I just managed to break three of them in one go: never wear black when walking at night, never cross against a red light, and never make a deal with the devil. So, there I am, lying in the street, the taste of blood in my mouth as I struggle to draw breath, and this guy walks up and looks down at me. He seemed like a normal guy, except for the absolute lack of any kind of human compassion in his eyes. He stared at me like I was some bug he couldn’t care less about stepping on.
“Boy, are you in a pickle or what?” he said, crouching down beside me. “That is a lot of blood. And I’m no expert on human anatomy, but I don’t think your arms and legs are supposed to bend like that. But I guess bouncing off a windshield, a telephone pole, and the street will do that to you.” He leaned closer, a flickering light dancing in the depths of his dark eyes. “You’re dying, Eddie. Can you feel it? Your life fading with each desperate beat of your heart?”
I wasn’t sure which was more frightening, that I could feel it, or that he knew my name.
“Are you ready to die, Eddie?” he asked. “In about two minutes, your heart will stop and your brain will cease to function, and you will find out what, if anything, waits for you on the other side. Are you ready for that? Or do you want to live?”
I tried to answer, but it came out as a sob, bloody bubbles flecking my lips.
“I can save you,” the strange man whispered, holding his hand out to me. …
Gemma signs up to be a test subject in a ‘Temporary Human Neuroengineering Trial’ that’s a little bit hazy on the details. It turns out a new neural transmitter and receiver pair are being tested, which allows somebody to experience all the sensations from, and control all the inputs to, somebody else’s body. Unfortunately for Gemma, she’s the receiver, and it really does feel like she’s still the one in control…
“Test Number One, beginning!”The voice came out of a small loudspeaker on the wall across from me. I didn’t know exactly what was being tested, but I figured it had something to do with the injection they’d given me when I first arrived.My name is Gemma, and I’m just broke enough that getting paid $500 to be a subject in a ‘Temporary Human Neuroengineering Trial’ was pretty damn appealing.I’d followed a listing on the student board all the way to this dingy room in the back of the nanotech building, where some excited postgraduates had made me sign a consent form and explained that they couldn’t explain anything before the experiment started. Then they stabbed me in the arm with a needle and left. Really helpful.I deduced it had something to do with the new nanobots the faculty had been working on. These microscopic machines could be put into a syringe and injected into mice, where their nervous system could be stimulated directly by a human wearing an EEG or something. I’d seen videos on instagram of the mice being made to run around mazes and do things they couldn’t have figured out so quickly on their own. I found that stuff super fascinating. Were they going to get me to control a mouse with my own set of nanobots? Or would they try to get my arm to jerk under somebody else's control, like that BrainNet/TMS experiment back in 2019? That would be kinda hot. I shivered and felt myself get a little bit aroused.I looked down and briefly cupped my boobs with my hands, a little gasp coming out of my mouth. Then I snapped my head up and stared at the wall across from me, throwing my hands down to the sides. …
Judy is an isolated shut-in who freezes up during any real-time social interation. She's worked from home her entire life, just getting by on the jobs that require no direct contact, but despite her excellent work, her inability to participate in calls is threatening her work. Now her one remaining major client is at risk unless she shows up to a meeting with his bosses in person! What should she do?
Judy didn’t know what to do.
It was a state of mind she was very familiar with, though that really only made her feel worse. A lifetime of anxiety-induced indecision and a paralysing fear of social interaction had seen her grow from a withdrawn and nebbish child into the adult life of a reclusive shut-in.
It was only thanks to the miracles of the modern age that she was able to find work on a freelance basis with mixed media - graphic design, sound design, programming - instead of simply wasting away in an attic somewhere.
She wasn’t stupid (though anyone would have struggled to convince her of this): She had a keen eye, a deft hand and a knack for problem-solving, so long as the problem could be expressed in a short email or project brief. If only she could maintain her composure when faced with… well, another person’s face, she might have become quite successful in life. As it was, any work that required an in-person meeting or even so much as a video call caused her to shut down in such a way that she couldn’t even bring herself to decline the invitation. The resulting reputation for ghosting had hurt her job prospects, and she realised that if she didn’t do something drastic, the work might dry up entirely.
Right now she had one major client that hadn’t yet written her off as a lost cause, but she could tell it was a close thing. Her work until recently had been very well received, but her contact there had recently been promoted to project manager and he had been determined to pull her up with him, despite her protests.
“It’s my supervisor,” one of his earlier messages read. “Several supervisors, to be honest. They’re refusing to believe …
Matt stumbles upon a ring that lets him possess people. Heavily inspired by the writing.com story The Possession Spell, but nerfed so the one with the power isn't in absolute control of everything.
My name's Matt. That day was meant to be just another day.. but it turned very weird, and very interesting.It would have been about 5pm when I walked into my apartment. It was convenient, since it was close enough to college, yet wasn't super expensive or loud. Plus I could walk to all the fun parties.Anyway, I walked in to see my girlfriend, Mira, sitting on the couch. I always thought she was cute in an exotic way - she was short, petite, with black hair and dark brown eyes. She was half Japanese, which is why I think I found her so attractive. Today, she was looking at me in a very unusual way. Not like her at all."Hey... Matt" she said hesitantly. Oh shit, I thought. Was she breaking up with me?"Hi?" I said carefully."So I have something to tell you..." Shit. It's really happening. I think she saw the look on my face, and quickly added "Oh no don't worry, nothing is wrong. We're still good. It's just... this is so weird."Relieved, I approached her and noticed she was wearing a ring. She never wore jewelry like that. "So, nice ring..." I said."Yeah that's what I wanted to talk to you about. Actually..." she started, getting up and walking over to me. I walked closer and took her hand. She flinched as I began to examine the ring, still on her finger. As I went to pull it off... "No!"The ring was half off, and I felt a force - not unlike a blast of wind - hit me. "Fine!" I slipped the ring back on... and blacked out.---I awoke in bed a short while later. Mira was sitting on the edge of the bed, playing with …
As newlyweds struggling to make a start in life, Lucas and Mila Cruz are astonished to learn that Mila’s late grandmother has left them the entirety of her estate on the condition that they stay at her personal villa for seven nights. It’s a strange demand, but how can they refuse?
The will had been read.
The papers had been signed.
Mila and Lucas Cruz stood at the entrance to the new estate - THEIR new estate -in complete, stunned silence.
The property stretched out for what felt like miles in every direction - row after row of meticulously trimmed topiaries stood guard along gravel paths and around walls and columns of sandstone that shone golden in the morning light.
Lucas permitted himself a quiet whistle.
“Yeah,” Mila agreed.
“And you really didn’t know her very well?” Lucas asked.
Mila shook her head. “Barely knew she existed. Wasn’t expecting anything, really. Definitely not THIS.”
Lucas nodded, the silence broken only by the sound of distant birdsong.
At almost a hundred years old, Teresa De León had been the matriarch of Mila’s side of the family, now very widely dispersed around the world. Mila herself had fallen out of touch with the vast majority of her extended family overseas, until she received a summons to the reading of her grandmother’s will.
“Should we go in?” Mila said eventually.
Lucas shook himself awake. “Yeah. Yeah. I’ll leave the luggage here for now and just bring the keys.”
They left their second-hand car parked by the fountain, looking for all the world like a chicken nugget on a wedding cake. Something to be done about that in a week’s time perhaps, but for now the incongruity would just have to stand.
“How big is it?” Lucas asked as they trod the gravel path.
“Big,” said Mila, almost spinning as she walked trying to catch sight of everything at once. “The executor gave me a number but, I mean… just look at the place.”
“I’m looking,” Lucas agreed. “Big.”
A pair of dark wooden double doors greeted them at the end of the path, flanked …
The opening couple of scenes for a slice-of-life stealth control story featuring a group of college friends. In this opening, Luna & Alphonse experiment with the technology with each other for the first time, and Luna is quite a bit bolder with it that Alphonse. It is largely ftm, from the male third person perspective.
The chilly air of Alphonse's dorm room was cut by the soft humming of a high end laptop, built more for specs than style. Alphonse himself sat hunched over, squinting at the glow of the screen in the darkness. The page he had stumbled upon was unlike anything he’d seen before, its dark background and neon lines carrying an aura of the illicit.
Or at least, an aura of a programmer who used dark mode, which was always a good sign.
It was late - late enough that his roommate Quincy was out on the town, courting danger or a damsel (or both). Alphonse sighed, running a hand through his mousy brown hair as he considered the proposition before him: a chance to buy into the surreal, the impossible.
Stealth Control Nanobots™
They were the stuff of whispered rumours and online conspiracy theories. The government had banned the technology long ago, citing concerns over privacy, consent, and potential for abuse. Concerns that were well founded. Even though the tech had never reached the mainstream, and was tightly controlled for government use only, there were still regular stories of leaks. It seemed like every few months some starlet would seem to lose her mind, and go masturbate in public, or dance nude on a balcony.
Stealth control was always blamed, and tighter controls always followed. Alphonse wondered how many of these cases were real – and how many times a drugged up rock star would just blame their latest bender on stealth control. “It wasn’t me! It was just my body!”
Still, if they were real… well, basic logic would dictate for every case you heard about, there were probably hundreds of people being controlled in ways that weren’t overt enough to make the news.
And if that were true, then …