Out Of Body By Danni_Iridescent

[xorg]

Out of Body - Out Of Mind

Author - Danni_Iridescent

~1~

‘Just sign here,’ the wiry-looking scientist muttered, his name already forgotten. I smiled, nodded, and penned my name in my familiar scrawl - P. Canning.

‘When does the payment come through?’ I asked, trying to mentally skip the next hour or so, so after this experiment was over and I could enjoy the cool thousand pounds I had been promised.

‘Compensation will be organised after this, Ms. Canning. Now, let’s take you through.’

He walked me from the subtle comfort of the meeting room we had discussed in (not that there was much to say - most of the reasoning behind the large compensation package was because it was a blind chemical study; I wasn’t allowed to know what was going to be injected into me, nor what the effects might be. Not completely above board, I’m sure, but I needed the money), and led me into a clean room with crisp air. There was a divider between two chairs, where he sat me down. On my left was the divider, my right a mirrored wall I assumed was a two-way mirror situation.

I sat, and as the guy in his white overcoat pulled a blindfold over my eyes, considered the project I had volunteered into.

It wasn’t a popular proposal, I knew that - the guys from the lab seemed almost surprised to get a sign-up. Even for a grand, exposure to untested chemicals for unclear reasons was enough to put most people off.

But I wasn’t most people. Behind on rent, and running low on ramen, it was this or the food bank. Sod it.

‘When you feel the injection, wait ten seconds, and then I want you to think of a phrase. Any words you want, just think them as hard as you can. Understand?’

I nodded. I had an A-level in psychology, and knew that the worst thing for the experiment was to try and guess the purpose. Covert study in a controlled environment was tricky, so it was best to play along without thinking about it too much.

Noise-cancelling headphones were applied, and I was left with nothing but my thoughts. I didn’t want to think about the study, or the untested chemical cocktail that was about to be let loose in me, so I decided to pick a phrase to think.

I sifted through movies I had seen recently, stuff on Netflix and the like - it was typical of me to get home after work, stick whatever I could find on TV, and start my uni work. A degree in English left enough time to hold down a part-time job, or keep up with coursework, not both. For some reason, the first Pokémon movie came to mind, and that ridiculous line from Brock as they run through the rain; ‘I’ll use my frying pan as a drying pan!’

As stupid as it was, it was as good a phrase as any.

There was a sudden cold wipe on my neck, followed by an awful scratch. I felt heat, like someone was pouring boiling water straight into my veins, spreading through me. It swam through my limbs, my heart, and finally my head.

THRUMMM.

The sound was deafening, though a part of me knew it wasn’t sound at all - the headphones proved that. No, this was in me, inside my head - warmth blew through me, sparking like fireworks behind my eyes. I felt my body as though it was someone else, alien and out of proportion.

I counted down from ten, desperately trying to keep everything together, terrified of what was happening to me. I looked out and realised they must have taken the blindfold off me. I was standing, looking through a window, at someone in an uncomfortable looking chair. It was a girl, wearing a blindfold like mine. She had hair like mine, and was even wearing the same kind of shirt -

THRUMMM.

That aching, echoing noise rattle through me again, and I was suddenly sat again, and had the blindfold on again. I was about to call out, in pain or in fear, but just as soon as it came, the pain left. No more fireworks behind my eyes. I was fine.

A moment passed, before the blindfold was taken off of me, and I saw the same scientist - though he was probably just a student like me, if a bit older - frowning at me. Then, off came the earphones, allowing me to hear the muffled conversations of people, presumably behind the two-way-mirror beside me.

‘Thank you for your participation, Ms. Canning. How are you feeling?’

I nodded. ‘A little light-headed.’

In truth, there was still a bit of an odd ebbing in my head, like I’d banged it and my brain was still bouncing around a little. I knew that wasn’t the case, but it was the only way to explain how it felt.

‘Now that you’ve taken part, we’ll be reviewing the information we’ve learned, but the part of the test that requires secrecy is over. We’re going to have a debriefing so you can discuss your experiences, and if you have any questions you can ask them then. Would you like some water?’

I nodded again, and he produced one of those squeezy sports bottles. I drank from it quickly, and felt the ebbing in my head subside a little more. The scientist gave me a concerned look, and I suddenly felt bad that I couldn’t remember his name.

He helped me up, and we exited the strange little room, through a short corridor and into what was clearly another meeting room, just with the table pulled to one side so we could sit more casually. I asked about the money.

‘One thousand, straight to the account you gave us the details for, by the end of the week,’ he said. ‘Any other questions?’

I considered it. I had kind of intentionally not been thinking about this, trying to put it out of my mind. Selling yourself to some dodgy scientific rounds of experimentation wasn’t the most prideful way to earn your keep, and so this had always been some shameful thing I’d tried to keep away from everyone. Even myself. As such, I didn’t have any prepared questions, but a basic one came to mind.

‘What’s all this for?’

He smiled, and sat back, drinking what smelled like coffee. Fuck, I would have loved a coffee right then.

‘It’s a strange one, I have to admit,’ he said, all of a sudden coming off as though this wasn’t his show, he was just presenting it. ‘But it’s effectively a test for psychic powers. Telepathy, all that.’

I was dumbstruck. ‘Right.’

‘Between you and me, you just made the easiest money you’ll ever make. We’re working for some foreign company - most of the people here are just doing it for the paycheck.’

‘So…’ I thought about it for a moment. ‘Do you even know what you injected me with?’

His eyes widened, and he straightened up, realising he’d maybe stepped over an invisible line or two. ‘Of course, but I’m afraid the chemical components are confidential.’

‘Says the company you’re working for.’

‘Afraid so.’

I knew this was potentially dodgy, but for this guy to just outright admit it was… odd.

‘What was it supposed to do?’

He sighed, and took another drink. ‘Make you slightly susceptible,’ he said, sounding ever so slightly regretful.

‘To what?’

‘Mind reading,’ he said. ‘The theory, apparently, is there’s some psychic link between all people, every human. The link is fragile, and effectively useless, but it’s there. But someone, somewhere, thinks this chemical will boost that link enough to make someone open to being read.’

‘Being read.’

‘That line, from a film, that we asked you to think of. The idea is for one of our scientists to see if he can guess it, whilst you’re under the influence. You had no other input - sound or visual cut off. Then he tried to read your mind. With some help.’

‘Did it work?’ I asked.

‘You tell me,’ he said, pulling a piece of paper from his top pocket. He pulled on his glasses, squinted, and read out, ‘I’ll be back.’

I laughed, and he folded the paper away. ‘No, that’s wrong,’ I said.

He gave a half-smile, and took another drink of coffee. ‘So. Did you feel anything?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Under the influence. When you were injected. What did it feel like?’

I could have told him about the pain, and the strange out-of-body experience - which I assume it was. Probably my brain trying to make sense of the sudden threat, the pain running through me, stitching together memories and images of me in the chair, plus some imagination to alter the perspective a bit.

But that sounded a hair too crazy, so I didn’t.

‘It was a little hot,’ I said, remembering that first pang of pain when I was injected. ‘And it hurt a little.’

‘Nothing more than that?’ he asked, sounding more curious than anything. I shook my head, and he nodded. ‘No problem. As I said, so long as your bank details are correct, you should receive your compensation by the end of the week. Here,’ he said, pulling out a small card with some contact info on them. ‘If anything happens, or if you have any questions, I’m contactable here.’

‘I thought this was all covert?’ I asked, wondering why a secretive project would be so forthright in contact details.

He shrugged. ‘Maybe I’m just trying to get your number. Call me for whatever you like.’

He smiled, and I found myself smiling back. Now I felt really bad that I couldn’t remember his name. In all honesty, it had been a while since anyone had made a move like that, and while he was a bit older than me, maybe around 30, he didn’t seem gross. No pressure. And I had his number, not the other way around.

We stood together, and he went to show me the way out. ‘Do you have any other questions? Before you head off?’

I did, actually. ‘How many people have done this?’

‘You’re number one,’ he said with a smile. ‘Hence the interest in your feedback. Everyone will be heard, of course, but this first person in is often the best place to get first impressions. We’ll look at the pain issue, of course.’

‘I don’t mind,’ I said. ‘Not like I’ll be doing it again.’

‘No,’ he said with a smile. ‘Still! Thank you for being part of this highly-lucrative study!’

I smiled, and let him lead me out of the University building, holding doors for me on the way down. It was all very chivalrous.

He gave me a good handshake and a nod, and I walked away with a funny feeling in my stomach. That, and a slightly recurring ache behind my eyes.

~2~

Owing to my less-than-stellar financial situation, my flat was a bit shit. Or, rather, the building was a bit shit. I’d made the effort to make my space within a homely place, lots of books and potted plants I had managed to keep alive. None of that made the walk up those concrete steps with the blue-painted iron railing any more enjoyable.

The only solace, and it was a guilty one, was that my neighbor was an absolute dream. Tall and handsome, he had the kind of facial hair that framed his smile wonderfully, and he was broad. He was an athlete, I had discovered - mostly from seeing him more than once in lycra, giving me a very nice idea of what he was packing. Cycling seemed like the most likely thing, and it made him toned but not bulky, lithe but not skinny.

He was my beautiful boy-next-door, Alex. And his girlfriend, the equally beautiful Zara. They had a joint instagram where they called themselves AleZara. It was sickeningly cute, just like them, and while I had committed most of Alex’s physique to memory for, ahem, personal use, it was clear it would never be more than that.

I didn’t bump into them on my way home that night - but I could hear a little commotion behind their door as I walked past it. Cheap flats mean thin walls, and more than once I had overheard an argument, or a night of passion, which has kept me up into early hours. For very different reasons, of course.

From the sounds of it, at least, Alex was very… capable. Didn’t help me to stop my leering, in all honesty. But, what can you do. I can’t afford to move out, and if ever now and again I get to get myself off to the sounds of his potent love-making, so be it. We all deserve a little happiness, don’t we?

My flat, once I’d gotten past the stubborn half-rusted hinges of my front door, welcomed me like an old friend. The heating was on, so I was able to quickly shed the jumper I had on, throwing them vaguely in the direction of my bedroom. I headed to the kitchen, hit the kettle on, and kicked off my shoes in the corner by the radiator. My bag hit the floor by the sofa, and I dropped down into the blanket-covered seat with a contented sigh.

The kettle started to boil, and I clicked on my TV, ready to have myself a nice evening, and get rid of this blasted headache.

Hopefully it wasn’t any sort of lasting side-effect of today’s injection.

I flicked through some of the channels as I waited for the kettle to finish whistling - though it was really more of a thin screech - and ended up on a music channel. I kept the volume low, and finished my tea, before sifting through the cupboards to decide on dinner. A can of tomato soup, some outdated sourdough bread, and a can of diet coke would have to do it. Nothing to write home about, but I’d had more shameless meals in the past.

I put the stove on, and poured in the can of soup to let it simmer, chucking in a few herbs and some salt to try and fix it up a bit, before setting myself back down on the sofa with my tea. As I started to flick through the channels, however, the brief pauses of silence made me able to hear something I wasn’t a stranger to at all, but was nonetheless always slightly nervous about.

I muted the TV, and sure enough, there was the tell-tale rhythmic banging of Alex and Zara’s bed frame against the other side of my kitchen/livingroom wall. Whoever had built these flat had obviously either forgotten that this was a real-world possibility, or they enjoyed the idea that someone’s sex life might be projected through the plywood walls to unsuspecting tennants next door.

Quickly, I turned beat red as I started to hear more, Alex and Zara clearly getting into things.

‘Fuck!’ I heard, in that uptight voice Zara had, which was annoying at the best of times. As I imagined her, only a few feet away from where I was now, moaning on Alex’s cock, she was almost insufferable.

But I kept listening.

‘Alex! Oh God - so big! Baby, fuck me! Fuck me, daddy - fuck me daddy!’

Daddy. That was a new one.

I knew I should put the TV on. Just some music, or some trash reality TV to somewhat drown them out. But I didn’t. I just sat there, willing my hands to keep to themselves as I grew flustered on my own sofa, listening to Alex turn his girlfriend into a quivering mess.

‘Please daddy harder! Yes! Fuck me! Fuck me like you hate me!’

That almost made me laugh, despite how my body was reacting. The contrast of her baby-talk and the roughness of their pounding did something to me I wasn’t proud of, and before I had a chance to talk myself out of it, I had put my tea down and was leaning back on the sofa, unbuttoned the top of my trousers, and let my hand slip under the fabric as I listened.

I closed my eyes, listening to the rhythm of their fucking - thump, thump, thump, thump - imagining the powerful thrusts of Alex, his sweaty face above mine, scrunched up in a show of effort.

‘Fuck me,’ I whispered to myself as Zara moaned through the wall.

My fingers traced the outline of my damp lips, pushing under my panties and playing with my clit as I listened, timing myself to them.

Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump.

I picture Alex, handsome Alex, fucking me into the bedspread, my fingers a poor substitute for his cock, but nimble enough on my pleasure centers to at least get me going.

I’d done this before, and I’d probably do it again, but each time I was left with a shame of guilt once I’d squeezed an orgasm out of their love life, inserting myself like a parasite on their sex.

Still, it felt so good to hear them moaning as I played myself like a fine instrument, the inviting slick crevasse of my sex humming as my fingers dipped and stroked, my legs pinned together by the trousers now half-way down my thighs. I moaned, feeling myself approach that blessed edge, and cringed as the pain behind my eyes grew. It felt like a balloon, suddenly bulging and filling my head, a pressure like nothing else, hot and painful - and then everything changed.

Suddenly, I was face-down, ass-up, moaning like a wildcat as I was fucked from behind. I shrieked, the sudden onslaught of pleasure scaring me for a moment, until my eyes rolled. My sex life had been so dry, and whatever fantasy this was, it was so real that I struggled to care what was happening - it just felt so good.

The cock pounding into me was long, thick, glorious, and unrelenting - it smashed deep into me with each powerful thrust, shaking the bed under us.

‘Ohhh! Fuuuck!’ I wailed, my voice high and fluttering, unable to find purchase as my body shook with each pounding.

‘Fuck, you’re so wet,’ said the owner of this glorious cock, my fantasy making him sound all too much like Alex - his deep, gravelly voice an aphrodisiac in itself. I moaned, biting the pillow and gripping the sheets as I did nothing but accepted his cock over and over, unquestioning, uncaring. ‘So fucking tight!’

I felt that pressure again - the good kind, that built in my core when I could feel an orgasm coming. How long had it been since I’d come from vaginal sex alone? It only happened at the best times, and right now was the best. A long streak of dry sexless agony broken, my g-spot pressed against with each quick thrust, my clit being teased by the swinging of his balls against me.

Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump. The bed shook into the wall, the world vibrating around us as I crested over, my body locking up as my voice caught in my throat - my face froze in shock and joy and bliss as he came inside me, grunting like a monster.

‘Fuuuck, yes, Zee,’ he moaned, and a part of my brain - the bit that was still working - registered it behind all of the noise and colour that was racing through me. ‘Call me daddy, bitch,’ he growled, and I whimpered.

‘Daddy,’ I moaned, recognising the voice. My voice. Not my voice. Zara’s voice, saying my words. ‘Daddy, fill me up,’ I moaned, a strange part of me unable to do anything but revel in this feeling. I was with Alex, his long, thick cock was buried in me, and he was filling me as I came on his length.

‘Yesssss,’ he hissed, his hands moving from their vice-grip on my hips to my chest, pulling me up. Still inside me, grinding the last of his cum against my cervix, he gripped my tits - Zara’s tits - and pulled me into a sweeping kiss of hunger and lust and tongue. I gave as good as I got, biting hip lip and moaning, pressing myself back onto him as the last few shivers of orgasm shook through him.

‘You’re so fucking good,’ he moaned into my mouth, his finegrs feeling heavenly on my chest as he kneaded me, playing with me like I was his.

But I wasn’t. This wasn’t me.

The heat. Pain.

Just as suddenly, I wasn’t there anymore. Alex wasn’t behind me, wasn’t moaning, wasn’t kissing, wasn’t groping. I wasn’t naked, gasping, shuddering, cumming.

Instead, I was stumbling, still in my button-popped trousers, socks without shoes, in the corridor outside. My momentum surprised me, and I tripped into the wall, landing with a painful thud.

I stopped, dazed. It had all felt so real. The sex - Alex’s body - the bedding in my grip - his heaving breath on my neck.

God, I was getting wet again.

Whatever the reason for me being in the corridor, it wasn’t smart to stay out here now I’d come to my senses, so I pulled myself up, quickly buttoned my waist, and thanked whatever God was above that my door hadn’t swung shut without my keys in my pocket.

I burst in, kicked the door shut behind me, and stopped to process.

What just happened?

I knew what it felt like - but that was ridiculous. It was stupid to think I had somehow… became Zara. I was her, in her body - in that moment. Which was impossible, of course. But I knew what it felt like.

That, of course, made me think of earlier today, when I was injected with whatever it was the scientists had given me.

How lame did that sound - the scientists. Like this was some Hollywood sci-fi with a conspiracy or something. All I’d done is signed up for a medical trial, thinking it would be a new vaccine or something. Even when the guy, the scientist, had told me what was up, it was with rolled eyes and shrugging shoulders, as though everyone thought it was bullshit, all for a paycheck from some crazy benefactor with a fringe theory about ‘psychic energy’.

And now here I was, possessing people.

I laughed. There, leaning on my door as I was. I laughed at myself for how silly the thought was. How backwards an idea could be.

It made more sense that the injection made me hallucinate the experience. Made me create the experience in my drug-addled mind as I listened to the two hot neighbors fuck. Somewhere in my madness, I had got up and gone outside, looking to join them properly.

That made far more sense. It wasn’t exactly reassuring, especially in the sense that I might be losing my mind to some untested drug - I was patient number one, of course - but at least it wasn’t, you know, psychic powers.

The sound of the soup burning over brought me back to reality, as the sour scent of my ruined dinner found my nose. Hurrying through to the kitchen to turn off the stove gave me a sense of reality that was much too lacking, apparently.

I laughed again, not really convincing myself this time of my levity, and decided that I needed to sleep off the madness. I would order some take-away, knowing the thousand pounds was coming before my rent went out, and use a pizza to eat away my worries before falling asleep in my own bedding.

Right. Yes. Good idea, Phoebe. Good, reality-based idea.

~3~

I awoke to the rude interruption of my alarm, blaring out some awful new pop tune the radio station was insisting was the ‘new hot thing’. Ugh.

It was Sunday, which, depressingly, meant work. My weeks were a mix of Uni scheduling, shifts as an intern in an office across the city (I barely cared what they did - it was just about getting enough paid hours in to feed myself), and finding time to do coursework at home as well. I was studying English, with a focus on Language Acquisition, which was interesting and fascinated me to no end - but didn’t really translate into getting a day job.

Someone once made a joke about how archeologists only got jobs training other archeologists, with the promise of exploring the pyramids as empty incentive, which made it a literal pyramid scheme. Chances were, my career was on a similar trajectory, just without the satisfaction of a good punchline at the end.

I rolled out of my twin bed, checked my phone, saw that I had a missed call from a number I didn’t recognise and hoped that those fucking scientist guys hadn’t sold my phone number in some elaborate scam, and went to make some coffee to wake me up.

A chill ran through me, the November frost starting to seep in through the single-glazed windows of my flat, and I decided I should probably start wearing more than undies and a t-shirt to bed. Time to invest in pyjamas.

My phone pinged at me, and I flicked it open to see a text from the same number I’d missed a call from . Only now did it register that the call was from this morning, not last night. At 6am sharp. Huh.

The text said, Ms. Canning, this Martin Finley from your volunteer work yesterday. Since your participation, the study has ceased due to health concerns brought on by a subsequent participant. You will still receive your compensation this coming Friday, but if you have any questions or concerns please do not hesitate to get in touch.

Well, now I had a name at least - Martin Finley.

Health concerns from other people involved wasn’t a great thing, but aside from some hallucinations and some burning headaches I was fine. Well, maybe that wasn’t fune. But I wasn’t dead or anything.

Plus, if I was still getting paid, frankly I had other things to think about.

I texted back, Hi Martin. Thanks for letting me know. Will get back to you tonight - I have work today. Had some headaches. Phoebe.

That should do it.

I dressed - the same clothes as yesterday with a spritz of fabric cleaner and a heavy layer of deodorant to freshen me up - and packed my stuff for work. As an intern, most of the time I was just filing papers for people, but I knew that my boss was looking to hire some new people on, and I’d rather keep this shit job than search for a new one.

With one last suspicious glance at the sofa that had been the scene of my episode, or whatever you want to call it, I left. On with the day. Immediately out the door I was confronted with a tone that I feared would follow me around for the whole day - Zara and Alex, getting ready for their morning run.

Alex barely looked at me, and I felt my heart sink at the fact that my rug-induced fantasy wasn’t real. He was beautiful, and had felt so good. It was a little shameful, but there was no part of me pretending that my tryst with Alex, however fabricated, wasn’t going to be the basis for a lot of my self-love sessions going forwards. The thought of him cumming in me, me whimpering and calling him daddy - it was too good to let go of.

Zara’s eyes didn’t glaze over me so easily. She gave me a look that I hadn’t seen in her before - I’d felt annoyance, mistrust, even disgust.

But never whatever it was on her face now. Suspicion? Confusion? Hatred, even? Whatever it was, it was intense, and following on from yesterday’s psychedelic trip or psychotic episode, or whatever it was, I didn’t need that doubt in my head. Doubting my own reality. What had happened.

The only explanation was that I was high. Anything else was ludicrous.

So, I chose to just move past them. I sped up, trundled down those manky steps, and almost ran from that building before anything had a chance to catch up with me.

Work, seeing as I managed to get their fifteen minutes early, was blissfully quiet when I arrived. The office manager, Neil, was a bloated man of fifty-something and a habit of having no other life to think of, so it wasn’t a surprise to see him there; the fact that it was only him was a treat. Slightly less treat-like was the fact that we arrived at almost the same time, meaning we would be sharing the trip up.

We had a floor of a high-rise in central Newcastle to ourselves, effectively. Floor fifteen. The lifts were cramped and cold, just like everything in this city, and Neil’s mass almost filled the box. I hated to be cruel about weight - lord knows I’m no stick insect myself - but with Neil it was a case of personality, too. He was big, boisterous and loud, filling up a room with his personality as much as his person. Most of the time this meant he was fun - at least to the other guys. But for myself and the other women who had worked here (most of whom quit not long after), it was an environment of testosterone and misplaced sexless anger that didn’t exactly feel welcoming to a twenty-something with a money problem. Neil had power over me, in more ways than one. And he knew it.

Not that he was the type to take advantage or anything like that. No, he was more a watch-your-butt-as-you-walk-past type of guy. He’d come over and stand over me while I sat, so he had a clear, unobstructed view of my cleavage - but he’d never actually touch me. He knew what the lines were. For a lot of places, this was a welcome dynamic. For me, it was… distressing, but I was able to deal. I could manage a guy who wanted something he knew he couldn’t have. As soon as he decided he could have it, there was a problem.

So, we rode the lift up together, gave a polite nod, and Neil went off into his office on the left while I went right, into the communal office. It was a box room, with off-white walls and grey carpets, with eight computers on desks separated by thin blue dividers - god forbid any actual human contact in a work environment after all. At the moment, I had a desk to myself, but that was only because we were understaffed. Of course, this was the best thing for me, because it meant I had an opportunity to show Neil that I wanted the full-time job. I knew this would destroy any hope I had of effectively managing my tie with Uni, but without money there wasn’t much point in worrying about anything else. A girl gotta eat.

So, I dropped my bag and phone, and even though it would be my second coffee before nine am, I walked through to the kitchenette to make myself and Neil a drink. I figured it might put him in a good mood, and I could do with all the good karma I could get.

It took less than a minute, so by the time I was walking the cup through to Neil it was barely ten-to. No one else had bothered to come in yet. That must all count for something, right?

I pushed Neil’s door open, and he straightened up all of a sudden, flustered. I got the feeling he might have been doing something… inappropriate, but despite a brief freeze I tried to power through, ignoring it.

‘Coffee,’ I said, planting it on his desk.

‘Oh, uh, thanks. Phoebe.’

I nodded, and he smiled, keeping his waistline pressed to the edge of his table. Don’t look grossed out, Phoebe. Don’t give it away that you know.

I gave him a last smile, realised that as I’d bent down to put the mug on his table, he’d been staring down my top, and left without another word.

After closing the door behind me, I shivered a horrible shiver, and went to my desk to consume my own red-hot caffeine-kick. God, I hated this place. Why was I trying so hard to stay?

Oh yeah. That’s right. I had nowhere else to go.

I sat, and as soon as I did I had that pressure again. I groaned, more annoyed than anything. If I was having residual effects from that injection, I was going to have to call that Martin and have my voice heard. No way was I putting up with this forever. To be honest, the thought of maybe getting some compensation crossed my mind. That would be lovely.

Still, I rubbed my temple as the headache quickly turned nasty - and all of a sudden-

I was in Neil’s office. In his chair. At his desk.

Oh, God, this is real isn’t it. I could feel him in me - or myself in him. Like a visitor. That was different to last time. Last time I was alone inside Zara, taking her over, feeling things instead of her. Now I was with Neil, like a passenger. Watching, feeling.

What could I feel?

I could feel his arousal. He had been playing with himself before I came in. The pretty intern. He had a fantasy about being the big, powerful boss, using my job as leverage to fuck me. To turn me into his workplace slut. He would make me sit under his desk and suck his cock while he sent emails and video-called colleagues.

He wanted me to be his slut. I could feel it, the lust at my memory in his mind. He thought of my tits, imagining my body, bent across his desk as he fucked me from behind. Maybe he would fuck me anally. He was sure I hadn’t done that before - I looked too stuck up. He wanted to take my anal virginity.

I should have been horrified. I should have been revolted at the thought of my boss, this ugly man who wanted nothing but to dominate and humiliate me, being in the next room fantasising about what he would do to me.

But I wasn’t.

It was like I wasn’t just along for the ride in his body - I was along for the ride in his mind. I could feel the arousal, the lust - all of those powerful untapped urges roiling under the surface. It was intoxicating.

Under the desk, I felt his cock. He had had it out when I walked in. He liked to have it out for hours at a time at work - and he would stay hard the entire time. The risk made him insatiable. Not like at home - his wife was frigid and unappealing. No, he wanted the intern.

He wouldn’t wank. No. Instead he would edge himself, softly humping the underside of his desk all day, the tip of his fat cock dragging against the wood, never doing more than the very least needed to keep him rock hard. Then, at the end of the day, he would wait until everyone had left, and go to the toilets to cum into the sink - it was always huge, especially when he had been fantasizing about the intern. Phoebe.

I felt him resist from wanking, his cock begging for attention. I needed it, too. I needed to feel his release, and I didn’t want to wait all day.

So, I made him touch it.

He was shocked, knowing this wasn’t what he wanted to do. I could feel him in here with me, trying confusedly to stop me. He didn’t know I was here. But as I made his fingers wrap around his cock, reaching under the desk like the pervert he was, I knew I had power. I could control him, like this. I could make him cum, and I could feel it alongside him.

So, I made him move. God, it felt so different. It was so direct, so simple. As a woman, an orgasm was to be tempted, teased and toyed out with experienced hands, tongues and cocks. As a man, it could be pumped out, a freight train of pleasure rocking through his body, unable to resist, unable to stop.

The tip felt the best, but it was almost too sensitive. It felt amazing to stroke the length, with tension on the head, softly twisting as I went. It was an instrument of lust, after all, and the simplicity didn’t mean there weren’t tricks.

I realised, after shifting back on the chair a little, that Neil’s cock was actually rather well-endowed - an easy seven inches. All of a sudden, in my lust-filled mind, it didn’t seem like such an ugly idea to be stuck under that desk, tasting the tip of his cock for hours on end. I imagined, as the thoughts came to me or Neil - it was hard to tell - fucking my own throat, my lips spread lewdly around the thick shaft as he held my head in his fat fist, forcing it down me. I didn’t care whether it would feel nice on the other end - I knew it would be incredible on my cock.

Neil’s hand kept pumping as I imagined the swell of my throat, remembering swallowing cum and how it felt to taste it on my cum - how would it feel to have it sucked from my shaft?

I needed to cum. I needed Neil to cum, right here, under his desk, like the sexual animal he could be. I needed to feel his orgasm, while he thought of me.

Oh, god it felt so good.

‘Huhhhn,’ Neil’s mouth moaned, and I realised that wasn’t me. That was the real Neil, also along for the ride, his cock being ravaged by a phantom hand, not obeying his will. How must that have felt? ‘Fuucl,’ he hissed, trying to keep his voice down. Again, he thought of me, on the other side of the office. He wondered whether I would walk in on him.

He had no idea.

So, I fucked him with his own hand. I fucked myself, had my pleasure build and build and build, before erupting from me in streams of thick cum. It was heaven, sharp and smooth and electric, making my whole body shake as Neil’s cum painted the underside of the desk.

With that, I sighed, and allowed myself to slip.

The heat wasn’t so bad this time. Nor the pain.

I was still in my chair, but as my mind came back to my body I jolted up, as though I had almost dozed off in a meeting, but my head dipping woke me up. The memories were real - I could tell that straight away. But only one thing would confirm for me whether that had just happened, or if I was going crazy.

Well, I might be going crazy either way.

I needed a video.

I needed concrete, actual proof of what was happening. I needed to get myself, and someone else, in a closed environment, and have video evidence of my control over someone. Because that really didn’t feel like an episode, or a hallucination, or anything else like that.

So, as I heard the lift open and the chatter of some of the actual employees enter, I formulated a plan. One that would make everyone happy, and let me know if I was losing my mind or not.

~4~

As predicted, the day passed without much activity. I was mostly ignored by the people who worked here, I didn’t learn anything about what the company actually did either than need expense report filing away, and Neil seemed awfully reluctant to leave his office all day.

The plan I had devised earlier in the day was… daring. Maybe stupid. But, if I was crazy, and none of the things I’d been seeing - or feeling - were real, it wouldn’t have any lasting effects.

If they were real, I’d have proof. And some other perks.

Either way, I needed quiet, and I needed privacy - which meant I had to wait for everyone but Neil to leave. As it was a Sunday, and loads of the people here had negotiated split-days on weekends, most of the workforce had ducked out by four pm, and the stragglers were all running home for that last hour of daylight by five.

Now or never, Phoebe.

‘See ya,’ I mumbled to one of the accountancy guys as he was on his way out. I waited until the doors to the lift shut, and immediately went to Neil’s door. I took a moment, hyping myself up, and kept my phone in my hand.

I knocked.

‘Yeah?’ came the answer, so I cracked the door. As soon as he saw me, he straightened up again, though because I knocked this time I assumed he wasn’t actually cock-out this time. Probably just nervous.

‘Hey, could I talk to you about something? About balancing work and Uni.’ It was the best cover I could think of. If nothing else happened, I could actually talk to him about it, and it would be enough of an issue to justify my next question.

He nodded, so I entered, making sure to shut the door behind me. ‘Do you mind if I record the conversation? I’ve been told by the University to keep a record.’

He frowned, but shrugged. ‘Sure, Phoebe.’

He remembered my name now, at least.

I set up my phone, using the case so it was pointed at me, and hit record. I’d made sure to dump enough storage-clogging content throughout the day, so I had way more than enough space. No chances being taken.

Now I was all set up, I feigned nerves. I wanted him to be open, even caring. Really, I was just trying to focus. On that heat, that pain - those sensations I was getting good at. As well, I wanted this to be the version of ‘psychic’ - if that’s what I was to call it - where we would share his brain, instead of whatever happened with Zara. I needed to figure that out later.

I focused, searching my mind for that feeling. Willing the headache into being, like a deep bassline thrumming in my forehead.

It started. I couldn’t help the smile.

I was Neil again. The sensation was… unreal. Piloting him like he was my own body, and yet there was always this… resistance. I could feel him in there with me, fumbling for control, but I was stronger. I was directed, and committed. Plus, I needed proof. I needed to know what I was feeling, experiencing, was real.

So, as Neil, and knowing the camera was filming, I put the plan into motion. I knew it would be, in a way, cruel - but I needed to know what was happening to me, and that required using another person. To make sure this never got out, I knew I needed some way to stop him talking about this to anyone. Combine that with knowing how he felt about me, and the idea had come to me almost fully-formed. All I had to do was suppress my conscience.

Before me, slumped in my seat, was the body of me. Currently vacant. I had wondered how it would look, and it was almost funny. I was limp, like I was asleep. Or drugged. Perfect.

I hadn’t realised how good this shirt looked on me. Nor how weird I looked with my hair parting on this side - usually I saw it in the mirror, flipped. Strange, how a bit of a changed perspective can work.

I stood. I walked to the office door, and locked it audibly.

‘There, locked,’ I said in his voice. For the camera.

I walked over to the limp, visibly slack version of myself, and stroked my face. Neil’s hands trembled slightly as I made his thumb dip into my mouth, tracing my lips. He knew what he wanted to do - it was animalistic. He had wanted me as his cock-slut for so long, and now he was taking me. He literally wasn’t able to stop himself.

His eagerness made everything so much worse, yet so much better.

I pulled Neil’s hand from my mouth, and instead unzipped his trouser zip. I let them fall to the floor, and kicked them off his thick feet, unveiling the maroon underwear beneath. His cock, half-hard and bulging through the fabric, wasn’t able to hide his enjoyment.

My enjoyment.

I could deny it if I wanted, but there was something about the power play that appealed to me. Doing this to myself, knowing the only ‘victim’ was my boss, who was about to live out a fantasy, only made things sweeter.

I pulled the boxers down, and let Neil’s cock - longer and thicker than any I had taken before - flop out onto my shoulder. I moved the limp vision of myself’s jaw so her - my - pretty mouth fell open. Inviting.

I stroked my cock, feeling how Neil knew this was wrong, so so wrong, and yet feeling a severe lack of resistance. If he thought he could get away with this, he would have done this a long time ago, I realised.

How many other men were one little push away from something like this?

I stroked Neil’s cock hard, rubbing the sensitive tip against my cheek, my lips. Oh, it was soft. Wet. Warm.

This was addictive.

As I let the limp form of me accept the head of Neil’s cock into my mouth, the rim of the thick tip pushing past my pink lips, I sighed.

‘One pill in your coffee, and I can do anything I want,’ I moaned, remembering the plan. I had to make him look guilty. I didn’t intend to share it with anyone, of course - but he needn’t know that. The fear of this coming out was what was going to keep me safe. I was a victim, he was a rapist - that’s what the story would be.

When in fact, I was both. I was going to rape myself.

It was a stark realisation.

I was going to use this body - this vessel that didn’t belong to me - to do something abhorrent and wrong… yet all I felt was lust. Not just my own, either. Neil was loving this, too. He loved the velvet of my lips catching on his cockhead, the feel of my hair in his fist as we lifted my head, turning my mouth so we could push our cock deeper, the slick of my tongue wet and luxurious.

Neil was in heaven - I could feel him, his body shuddering as he finally acted on his urges. I wondered, if I backed out now and left him to it, ‘waking up’ beneath him, would he stop? Or would he really rape me - fuck my face, and my tight sex-slave cunt that he imagined?

God, his fantasies were starting to blur into mine. It was dangerous, but so fucking hot, especially as we lived it out, pressing the fat of his stomach against my forehead, our cock being squeezed blissfully as we forced our way into my throat.

I had never been able to do this to a cock - to deepthroat without gagging, coughing and spluttering. Now, though, my stretched features took the invasion quietly, without fight. I felt the heat boil in Neil’s balls as he struggled to contain himself, the excitement of living this out bringing him close to climax already.

So, I turned up the heat. I gripped my own head in his hands, and skullfucked myself. I felt the warmth of my mouth, throat, wet and unresisting and warm, a slick delicious passage for my lust to fuck. Together, we rammed the meat, thick enough to strain against my neck, until there was a visible bulge beneath my jaw, each thrust pushing the bulge tower and lower, aiming for my cleavage.

We pulled my body almost side-ways on the chair, so I was lying flat enough for our fucking to become animalistic, raw and desperate. His cock stretched my poor throat, but I didn’t care - it felt too fucking good. All I wanted to do was cum, to spray Neil’s thick cum down my throat, and all over my face and tits.

Tits - I wanted to see my tit. Neil’s fingers quickly went to my shirt, upside down and bouncing with our thrusts, and popped open the top button. Then the next, and the next, until my bra-clad breasts were open beneath us, sensual globes that shifted with each pump of our cock down my throat. I had never seen my tits as beautiful before, but through Neil’s eyes, over the crest of his stomach with my face obscured by his belly, so all I could see was my bulging neck and flushed, bouncing tits, it was hard not to see the appeal.

‘God, I love your fucking throat,’ I moaned, Neil’s voice low and husky. ‘I’m gonna cum straight into your stomach, and all over your fucking tits.’

His hands reached down and pulled my bra down, letting me access the soft flesh of my breasts. Neil’s fingers, thick and sweaty, groped at me the way he had only fantasized about, and I could feel his orgasm building in his balls. It was hot, and ready, and I could tell it was going to be a big one.

With a smile, I remembered what had happened - must have happened - with Zara. We hadn’t shared her body. I had replaced her, and she had been in me. That would explain how my body was in the corridor, and the look she gave me. We swapped places.

Time to do the same to Neil, and give him a taste of his own lust - and a taste of his own cum, too.

I waited until the last moment, letting the feeling of his balls slap against the bridge of my nose, the length of his cock being devoured by my unanswering throat, his fingers playing at my tits and nipples, enjoying my body in the way he had always wanted.

Then, I forced him out.

It was an odd feeling, but in no way a bad one. All at once, it was as though the sharing of his body had been somehow sharing the sensations, and when that stopped, they snapped into focus. The pleasure was a wave of bliss - angry, pent-up, selfish bliss that fed off every urge Neil had in him about me.

Beneath me, Neil woke up in my body - a cock down his throat, a fat man fucking him like the sexslave he had always wanted, tweaking his nipples as he was held down. The sudden struggling beneath unlocked a sick element of this power-play in me, and I crested over.

The cum poured from me, an unending stream of fucking lightning streaming from my balls, into my own throat. I watched as Neil sputtered, choking and coughing, and I held my own jaw in his hands to keep him in place. He started to swallow, desperate not to suffocate, and it felt incredible - the muscles of my throat milked my cock, sucking his cum down.

Before I finished, I wrenched back and let the cock pop from my abused mouth, cum spraying across my shocked face and flushed chest. Neil flailed and thrashed, as I felt the orgasm he had been denied, the bliss running through him unending.

‘Say thank you,’ I said in his voice, before flicking that switch again.

Heat. Pain.

‘Thank you,’ I answered as me, lying on my back, cum covering my face - warm and wet and thick. My words hurt when they left my throat, so I coughed, hamming it up for the camera. ‘Please, don’t hurt me anymore.’

I sat up, getting my fucked face and covered chest in my phone’s shot, before stopping the recording. That should do it.

‘What…’ Neil said, the confusion on his face well-founded, but ultimately besides the point.

‘I have a video of what you just did to me,’ I said, holding my phone up. His flushed features, red as the maroon underwear he was wearing, drained to pale pink. ‘If you tell anyone about what happened in here, I send this to every lawyer in the city, and your wife. Understand?’

He nodded, too scared to even ask why.

‘And I want a pay rise. Fifteen pounds an hour.’

‘I can’t-’

‘Do it,’ I said again. ‘Or this goes public.’

‘I can’t afford it,’ he argued, almost making me feel sorry. But I wasn’t leaving here without what I needed - it was too far past that now. I’d seen inside his head, all of the awful things he wanted to do. Had done. On camera. Mercy was tempting, but he wasn’t deserving of it.

‘How much would you lose if I sent this to your daughter?’ I asked.

That shut him up.

I pulled some tissues off his desk, and wiped my face off, then another for my chest, before buttoning up. Maybe this didn’t have to be a total loss for him. I did have fun, after all.

‘No one knows about this,’ I said, and he nodded. ‘I have this to destroy you if you don’t do what I want.’ He nodded again. ‘And, if I want to - I might find myself under your desk at 8:30 in the morning, until 6 at night. Would that be so bad?’

He frowned, confused. Then, he shook his head, tentatively.

‘Then keep quiet, and we might be able to have some fun.’ I winked, threw the cum-soaked tissues into his bin, and stood. ‘See you tomorrow. Sir.’

And I walked out.

~5~

Ho-ly shit. I couldn’t believe I’d done that. I couldn’t believe I’d had the balls. I had, on camera, mind-controlled and possessed my fucking boss, raped myself, and then used that film to black-mail him - not only into silence, but into a potential sex-slave fantasy role-playing thing I’d picked up from his wank-bank fantasies.

It was hot, to be fair. And him being… disgusting somehow only made it hotter. The way he saw me, like I was some incredible thing, completely out of his league, and I had such power over him, and yet I would be submitting willingly to suck his cock for hours on end?

There was something about it that just made my pussy soak.

And it did. The entire journey home, I was dripping like a faulty shower, my pussy aching to be attended to despite having orgasmed by-proxy twice today.

Speaking of, the day had brought with it some confirmation of almost unbelievable truths. I was psychic. Or, I could possess people. Or swap minds with them. Or something.

It was a bit nebulous, and I didn’t have a complete picture of what was going on, but I knew a lot more now than I did this morning. For one, I wasn’t going crazy. Two, it was probably as a result of that injection I had received. Three, I was able to ‘share’ mental space with people, or ‘swap’ with them. Four, when I ‘shared’ with someone, my body went limp - meaning I would have to be careful about doing that and leaving my body unattended.

This explained what had happened with Zara, and with Neil (twice) - and I had proof. I had the video.

The only question left was how the fuck did this happen to me?

Of course, I knew that the answer lay in whatever chemical had been introduced to me in that trial. Martin had texted me saying they’d stopped the trials, so there was a good chance no one else had had this happen to them - but was I sure about that? What if there was someone else out there who had this… ability?

What if they went public?

Would that implicate me? Make me a target?

It dawned on me, as I approached the outside of my run-down block of flats, just as the rain started to darken the pavements of urban Newcastle, that I might be a target. Someone owned that chemical. Someone who was looking into psychic abilities in humans. If another candidate had this outcome, and they blabbed, someone might be on their way to pack me into a van and whisk me off to a lab somewhere, ready for experimentation.

Phoebe, stop. That’s crazy. Crazy thoughts from a tired head. This wasn’t some bad movie - this was real life. And as crazy as things were, they weren’t going to get silly.

Even so, I found myself unnerved by a black van parked outside the building, and hurried up to the stairs, going just a little faster than I usually would, back to the safety of my flat. I didn’t pass Alex, nor Zara, and was quietly thankful for the lack of complications. I was inside, behind a locked door, and the world could bugger off for a bit.

To be honest, it was hard to be too overwhelmed by the events of the day when I still smelled of Neil’s cum, and I could still taste him at the back of my throat. My whole neck was sore - unsurprisingly - and I felt like I needed something with a lot of dairy to try and soothe it a little. I wasn’t sure if that was a sure-fire method, but something needed to be done. And a shower. I needed a shower.

As I dug through a pile of clean-but-unsorted washing for a towel, I heard my phone buzz in my bag, and quickly pulled it out. Martin.

Hi Phoebe. Please get in touch when you can. Serious things to discuss. Martin.

Well, that seemed a little disconcerting.

Before I was given the grace of responding, however, I heard three hard knocks on the flat door. Knock! Knock-knock!

I huffed, annoyed that I’d barely gotten a moment, and well-aware that I was still a mess from Neil, and whoever it was would notice. Even so, I went to the peep-hole, and saw Zara. She looked like lightning - the blonde hair a streak of white, her face thunderous, her eyes piercing and bright. She was angry.

‘I know you’re in,’ she called, making me jump. ‘I just saw you get back from whatever shit-hole you work in.’

Rude, I thought. Accurate, but rude.

‘Zara,’ Alex’s voice called. He was just out of the stretched fishbowl-view I had through the peephole, but I could make out his shadow. ‘Just leave it.’

‘No! I want to know!’

‘Know what? You’re sounding crazy,’ he said. He approached her now, and put his hand on her arm, gripping her tight enough for her to flinch away. Then, quietly, into her ear, he whispered, ‘come.’

Like calling a dog.

I watched, as well, as Zara reacted. There was a slight hesitation, but she obeyed. I thought of how she called him ‘daddy’ in bed, how he fucked her with her face hidden in the bedsheets. This was either a kinky relationship, or an abusive one, and the pit in my stomach wasn’t going to let it go without finding out.

So, I settled myself on the floor to stop my limp body from falling, and -

• I was inside Zara. In her head, just watching. It was strange, being a passenger. Like watching a movie, only I could feel her heart beating like a hummingbird, the grip of Alex’s hand on her arm, the tension in her gut.

Oh, and the unapologetic wetness between her legs.

My god, she was desperate for it.

As Alex led her, me, us, back to their flat, I had a quite sift through her memories. Sure enough, they had been making out, and she had been asking her ‘daddy’ to fuck her for hours. He liked to tease her, make her a sloppy mess, touching her and making her beg, before fucking her like a machine for hours. She remembered how he bragged when they first met that he could fuck for an hour without cumming, and that night he had proved it to her. Bent over the kitchen top in her flat, he had pounded her until she came three times, unwavering.

She’d been his plaything ever since.

He led us in, and slammed the door behind us. ‘Where were we?’

He barely stopped speaking before his hand was on our throat, his other hand sliding beneath our skirt. I realised we weren’t wearing underwear as his finger slid effortlessly into her, and I moaned alongside her as Alex held her by the neck and cunt.

‘Get me ready,’ he ordered. Zara, we, nodded, and pulled our tank-top off in a moment. No bra underneath, and our nipples were erasers, hard and excited.

I allowed Zara to slide down him, pulling his half-hard cock from his trousers in an easy motion, out of his joggers. It was fat and wet at the tip, his pre-cum tasting salty and thick as Zara’s lips wrapped around him.

I swapped to Alex, and hid in his mind as he was sucked off by Zara’s expert mouth. She licked him, sucked hip, kissed him, and took him deep down her throat. Her slick tongue dragged against the underside of our cock, our foreskin slipping back as Zara moaned on us. It vibrated through us, as her hands gripped his waistband, pulling our trousers down so she could feel the leg hair on her tits.

She pulled herself back, and sucked a ball into her lips - a sensation I would have never guessed would feel as lewd and hot as it was. Her face was alight with sex and her matted hair and perky tits glowed with excitement. The hate Zara was ready to show me was now replaced with thoughtless need, and she had no idea it was me.

Alex pulled her hair in his fist, and Zara moaned in a mixture of pain and pleasure, ‘yes, daddy.’

Oh, those words did something to this boy.

I felt the testosterone flood through us, like a shot of adrenaline, and winced as Alex yanked Zara up by the hair. She yelped, too, but let him drag her into the bathroom. I watched him push her over the sink, her face pressing into the mirror, as he lined up his cock to her weeping slit.

I moaned, gripping the cold porcelain as he slid into us. Zara was singing with lust, her body pressing back against Alex as he bottomed out inside us.

Our cock pressed deep inside, kissing the slightly tougher lips of her cervix. Her walls were wet heaven, and her moans like ambrosia for our lust.

‘Fuck me, daddy,’ we moaned, watching Zara’s eyes bulge and mouth gape with a drooling tongue in the reflection.

Fucked her we did, our muscular frame an obelisk behind her, pounding her into the sink. ‘So fucking tight!’

‘Daddy!’

‘Ugh- FUCK!’

‘Da-ddyy-ahHH!’

Zara’s orgasm was rounded, like a bowling ball to the heart - round but unstoppable, crushing everything else out of the way.

‘ZEE!’

Alex’s orgasm was sharper. Bullets, shooting out of us and into her, deep and piercing.

The floor of my short hallway was warm, heated by my steadily quickening heartbeat. Clearly, some part of my body had been affected by my mind’s little exploration. Interesting.

I stood on shaky legs, and went back to the kitchen, only to see my phone blinking. A missed call from Martin, again.

I called him back straight away, leaning against the kitchen counter as I poured a glass of milk, the stench of cum all over me, impossible to ignore. As I looked at the milk in the glass, I could only see the cum, pouring from a cock that wasn’t mine, onto the tits I owned, bouncing beneath me.

‘Hello?’ Martin answered, sounding concerned. ‘Ms. Canning?’

I gasped as I came back to the world. ‘Hi. Yes. Martin?’

‘I’m glad you called,’ he said, sounding concerned, or worried. It was hard to tell, I didn’t know the man well, but there was clearly something going on. ‘Are you able to meet?’

‘Meet?’

‘There are some things you should know. Off the record - I’m not supposed to tell you any of this. I could lose my funding, my reputation - we need to speak. There’s a at the top of Meldon Terrace, do you know it?’

It was on the other side of the city, surrounded by housing. A bit out of the way, but it sounded like that was the point.

‘What’s going on?’ I asked.

He sighed, and repeated his question. ‘Do you know the cafe?’

‘Yes.’

‘Okay. I’ll be there in an hour. Meet me there.’

‘Tonight?’ Shamefully, part of me was thinking about the fact it would take the best part of an hour to get there, and I needed to shower and change; all the while my body was begging for release.

‘One hour,’ he said again, before hanging up.

Okay, this was starting to feel more and more ridiculous. More ridiculous than using psychic powers to blackmail my boss? Maybe not. But still pretty out there.

So, I rushed. I washed away the smell of cum, brushed my teeth and used half a bottle of mouthwash to try and get Neil off my tongue, before calling a taxi. Again, with Neil’s agreement, and the money coming in on friday, I wasn’t as stingy with money as I would usually be, and besides - walking it would take over an hour alone, and I’d already wasted thirty minutes getting sorted.

I dressed casual, in jeans and a t-shirt with a hoodie pulled over it. My hair was still wet, so I just left it as-was. No point in putting effort in, I supposed. It was too far gone for that.

When the taxi arrived, dropping me off at the cafe, I could see Martin through the window straight away. The place was open till eight, but he was just about the only person in there.

So, I went in through the front, and sat at his booth.

‘Hi,’ he said. His concern was even less filtered on his face - something bad was going on.

‘Hey,’ I said. ‘What’s going on?’

He lowered his head, and his voice, seeming very mysterious about the whole thing. If it weren’t for what had happened today, I would have found it funny. I still almost did.

‘The person who came in after you,’ Martin said. ‘They died.’

I looked at the doorway, and around the cafe. ‘No one came in after me,’ I said, really confused. Then, of course, I realised what he’d meant, and felt like an absolute twat. ‘Oh, you mean-’

‘The trial,’ he said, nodding but still not looking up. ‘What we gave them… they had a fit. Died before the ambulance arrived. Everything’s been shut down.’

‘Well, yeah. I should hope so,’ I said. He looked up at me now. ‘I mean, if someone died, that means you should stop, right?’

‘Right, of course,’ he said. ‘But we’re still at risk.’

I remembered what he’d said on the phone. About his reputation, and funding. ‘What from?’

‘If this goes public, that we were performing unethical trials, on people, and there was a death on the second participant… it could go bad.’

I was following, but I wasn’t sure where he was going with this. ‘Do you want me to sign a non-disclosure or something?’

That made him laugh. An empty, hollow laugh. ‘Phoebe, the person who funded this has kept themselves secret for a reason. They know this is poison to whoever it gets back to. I didn’t know how unready the chemical was for trial, and now it’s my name on it. I could be ruined.’

‘You could be more than that,’ I said. He looked up at me now, his face pale and tired. ‘If they think you could lead the police to them, or something.’

‘Oh, I know,’ he said. ‘I know they could have rid of me. That’s why I called you.’

Oh. ‘They might want to get rid of me, too.’

Martin nodded again. ‘I’m sorry. We shouldn’t have met. This was a bad idea-’

‘No,’ I said, reaching out to him as he began to stand. ‘I’m glad you called.’

If I was being honest, there were two things in my head at that moment, and only one of them was about the chemical. Martin was attractive. Not drop-dead fuck-me-now, like Alex, but niether was he the repulsive egg of a man Neil was. Of course, both of them had stuck their dicks in me, and I’d liked both of them, so I suppose it was kind of besides the point.

But still. He looked good. And I wanted him.

To be frank, my body wanted to get off. I still hadn’t cum, and the unintentional edging was getting past the point of bearable. All those trysts had been through other people - Zara’s body had cum with Alex, and Neil had cum all over me. Poor Phoebe, I’d been left behind.

And I felt it.

Still, there was no way I was going to be able to, what, just seduce him? Lure him back to the flat, strip him and mount him? It was a nice idea, but - well, there was a reason a bit pent-up. Before last night, it had been over a year since I’d last had sex. No major boyfriends, a secluded life at uni, it all adds up to a pretty prude existence. Not that I was a virgin, of course. I was just… out of practice.

And, for the most part, that was fine. I was more than happy to just trot along, satisfied by my fingers and the sounds of AleZara next door humping every night. But now, after what I’d been through, I needed more.

I needed him.

And, of course, I had a way of getting him.

‘I need to tell you something,’ I admitted to him, figuring out if there was a good way to say this. I didn’t think so. So, instead, I just came out with it. ‘It worked.’

His face was blank. ‘Worked?’

‘The chemical. The injection, trial, whatever. It… worked.’

She rubbed his eyes. ‘It was designed to make you susceptible to psychic influence. We know didn’t happen, Phoebe.’

‘No,’ I said. ‘It made me… psychic. I can control people.’

He laughed, again without humour. More just disbelief. ‘This was a mistake, I should go.’

‘Martin,’ I said, again reaching for his wrist, but this time he stood. So, I took initiative.

Okay. Oh, he felt good. Strong.

Could you hear me, Martin? When I thought like this, in your head? I could feel him. Struggling, confused, upset.

Then, as I sat his body back down at the table, and we looked at the limp, dead-eyes body of Phoebe Canning in front of him, he understood.

‘Impossible,’ he said. ‘But true,’ I said, using his mouth. ‘And it’s not just sharing,’ I said, and forced him out.

Ahh… peace. The struggling ceased, and everything came into focus again. Like some filter over the world had been peeled off.

Before me, the body of Phoebe Canning stirred, and inside it Martin saw himself. He started, sitting upright.

‘What is this?’ my lips asked.

‘This is what you did to me,’ I made him answer. ‘I can… possess people. It’s strange. I think I’m about getting the hang of it-’

‘Shut up,’ my voice snapped, and I saw the attempt of dominance on my face. Wow, I was kind of cute like that. All stroppy. Maybe I should do that more.

Oh.

Ohh…

I felt him. His body. Whatever part of him was still in here, attached to the conscious mind I had kicked out, it was attracted too. He liked me. Or this. Or both.

‘We should go somewhere private,’ he said, my voice sounding more scared than I think he intended.

‘My place,’ I offered. Might as well try to seduce him after all, especially if he was into me. Or this.

‘Fine,’ he said. ‘Stop this.’

So I did. We snapped back into ourselves, and after a brief moment of confusion and re-calibration for both of us, it was back to normal. No one had noticed. The only barista here was on her phone, off at the other end of the counter, trying to be sneaky.

‘That is impossible,’ he said.

‘If you had asked me yesterday, I would have agreed with you.’

‘Right. Call a taxi. I’ll pay. We need to talk about this. Properly.’

I nodded, and pulled my phone out. Minutes later, after a quiet, suppressed pause between us, the car arrived, and I took him home.

~6~

Martin sat on my sofa, looking somewhat shell shocked. Of course, that was understandable, but it was still an odd sight. For one, I hand;t brought a guy back in… wow, over a year. Just the presence of another person was enough to make it feel strange to me. The room looked smaller.

Besides that, obviously, was the context of the visit. Well, not so much a visit. We were something like fugitives, hiding from some unseen enemy - maybe. Martin seemed scared of that, but I wasn’t so sure. To me, it seemed more likely that we were going to be largely ignored, seen by whatever great power was behind these trials as a misstep which would be avoided in the future. At worst, we were a loose end, but so long as we kept our heads down, I didn’t think there was much to worry about.

Martin was worried though. He wore it on his face. Not like a mask - it was more honest than that. Maybe he knew more than he was letting on. Maybe he was actually part of the conspiracy - here to take me, the only person not involved who knew about the trial, out. Or, maybe he was nervous about the same thing I was.

I hoped so.

I hoped he would be eager, that he was quietly contemplating the things I was screaming inside my head. The things my body was aching for, that I had been denied, teased with, for so long. My mind had fucked and been fucked, enjoyed the pleasures of sex, and of power - but my body had felt none of that. To it, I was still just Phoebe - lonely, unsatisfied, weak.

And I had realised, that was certainly part of it. At first, I was almost scared of this… gift. I was so sure it wasn’t real, happy to call myself crazy. I was more ready to be mad than strong - that’s how used I was to weakness.

Was it weakness? I was kind. Smaller than most. Meak, perhaps. I didn’t have a loud voice, but I wasn’t friendless. I didn’t have the most outgoing sex life, but I wasn’t a virgin. Maybe I wasn’t weak - I was something worse. Average.

Well, not anymore.

‘I’m struggling to put into words how to explain to you what this means,’ Martina said.

'What, that I might be a target or something? I asked, almost annoyed that he hadn’t moved on even slightly. The kettle boiled, and I was making us both tea when he laughed. In fact, he scoffed.

‘No,’ he said simply. ‘I’m thinking bigger. On a personal level, you could do anything you wanted, you understand that, right? Go to a nice hotel, possess some rich guy, get him to donate enough money for you to afford a plane ticket. Go to Washington D.C., possess the President. Boom, you’re in charge of the free world.’

‘Well, we could do a lot worse,’ I joked. Martin didn’t laugh at that.

‘Phoebe, I’m serious. This ability makes you… I don’t even know what. And that’s not even thinking about the question this raises about human nature.’

I poured the milk, and joined him on the sofa. ‘I can tell you’re going to tell me anyway,’ I said.

‘Phoebe Canning - you have, single handedly, proven that consciousness is transferable. Psychic links exist, and they can be manipulated intentionally. A mind can exist in a brain it doesn’t belong to, meaning the relationship between our physical brains and the thoughts within them is completely different to how we think.’

I was a little confused, and he seemed eager to infodump, so I asked. ‘How’s that work, then?’

Martin took a breath, clearly calibrating his explanation to me. I was slightly insulted that he felt the need to tone down for me, but equally I was thankful he was making all of this accessible. I wasn’t a neurologist, after all.

‘A thought isn’t just a nebulous, abstract thing. It’s physical. When you have a thought, or think of a memory, your brain builds a pathway with neurons. If you remember a certain thing enough, or think about something enough, that pathway gets stronger, and stronger. That’s how we learn. But, if what’s happening to you is real, then your memories and thoughts are able to exist inside a brain where those specific pathways don’t exist. And vice versa, when you ‘swap’ with people.’

‘Well, what does that mean?’

He looked at me, putting down his tea - which he hadn’t taken so much as a sip of - and really looked. ‘Who have you shared with, or swapped with?’

Ah.

I knew this question was coming, but it would make for an awkward answer. I decided to go one-foot-in with my answer. ‘My boss.’

He frowned, clearly not approving, but that wasn’t the point and he knew it. ‘When you were sharing your boss, did you ever feel things you wouldn’t normally feel? Have thoughts that didn’t feel like yours?’

My mind flicked back to that experience, of being Neil, holding his fat cock between my lips - the image wasn’t as disgusting as it should have been, even though my body had been used by someone I found entirely unattractive as him. The attraction was on his side.

‘Yes,’ I said, my voice shaking a little more than I meant it to. Martin realised, quickly, and to his credit, that he had struck a nerve. ‘I felt how he did towards… women.’

He considered his words. ‘Did those thoughts feel… alien?’

I thought about it. ‘They felt like they were his, and I could touch them. Like feeling an ice cube. It didn’t make me ice-cold, but it was chilling. If that makes sense?’

‘So the ideas he had, they weren’t all-encompassing, but you experienced them?’

I nodded.

‘How about when you swap with someone?’

I realised, quickly, how it always felt when I swapped with someone - like everything came into high resolution. Every sensation heightened. The blockage taken away. ‘It gets stronger,’ I admitted.

He nodded. ‘Do these ideas stay with you afterwards?’

‘Sort of. I can tell they’re not mine.’

‘What your boss felt - is that still there?’

‘About liking women?’ I asked, and Martin frowned again. So serious. I thought about it. Whether I would want to become someone, a man, and fuck a woman. I’d never had that urge before, but now…

I’d felt it in Martin, too, of course. Not just Neil. Martin’s head had been warm and full, exciting - but it contained his attraction, to me and others. Maybe it wasn’t Neil doing this to me. Maybe it was him.

I thought about how, straight after my sharing of Neil, I had made part of the blackmail a deal that I could be his slave. His cock sleeve, to hide under his table and be his plaything. Obviously that was his fantasy, not mine, but it had become a part of me. I still wanted it, though not to the same degree of intensity.

But surely that could be something else?

Who’s to say I don’t just enjoy the feeling of being used. Of being a slut for my boss. It’s a common kink. The power play. And after having the idea revealed to me, what’s to say I didn’t simply realise that I liked the idea of it, rather than some backwards-inception thing.

‘I understand this is difficult,’ Martin said, prompting me back. I realised I hadn’t answered his question. ‘But you need to talk to me, Phoebe. Does anyone else know about this?’

‘My boss might have questions about what happened,’ I said. ‘But he won’t know anything for definite.’

‘Anyone else?’

I thought of Zara. ‘My neighbour - I swapped with her accidentally.’

‘Jesus, Phoebe.’

‘Hey!’ I snapped. ‘Don’t talk to me like that! I had no idea what was happening, and the only reason this is happening to me is because of what you fucking injected me with - so don’t you look at me all high-and-mighty, okay?’

He paused, looking serious again. ‘What happened?’

Fuck. This. No more tempering my answers.

‘I heard her and her boyfriend fucking, and he’s a fucking sex-God, so I imagined being in her place. All of a sudden, I was. Martin, I got fucked, like really fucked for the first time in months. And it was amazing, okay?! Then, with my boss, I shared his fat fucking body, and felt how much he wanted to rape his limp little intern - so I let him do it. I fucked my own face with his cock, on camera, and I’m using it to blackmail him. And you know what? That felt amazing too. I loved it. So you can look at me all high-and-mighty, but if you had any idea what this felt like, it might shut you up a little.’

He paused, considering what I’d said. ‘You have to know how wrong that is, Phoebe,’ he said.

And I lost it.

Who the fuck is he to judge me? To make me feel like shit? He did this to me.

‘You want to know how good wrong feels, Martin?’ I asked, and as soon as I did his eyes went wide. Maybe he’d just realised what was happening - who he was arguing with.

Or, he was figuring out how fucked he was.

Before he had a chance to do anything, I slammed my tea down, letting it spill on the table a little, popped open the top buttons of my jeans, and lay myself over the arm of the sofa, arse-up, head down.

Then, I took him.

Oh, he was confused, and scared, and excited.

Ha. Excited.

Part of him knew exactly what was about to happen. The others had had no idea, but Martin knew. He knew he was going to be forced to act against his will, and that he was going to enjoy it.

He liked the look of me. In general, and no, specifically. With my jeans on, my arse looked great, the popped buttons making every wet, waiting part of me accessible.

I could feel him, inside his head, stuck under the blanket I formed. I was like a film over him, covering and containing, but not smothering. I could still feel him in here, trying.

The problem for Martin was, inside his head, he couldn’t lie to me. He couldn’t hide that note of desire. He had gone so long without release, too - and now here he was, faced with an eager orifice, hoping for him to fuck it.

And the truth was, it was going to happen whether he wanted it or not. It just helped that he did.

I took a moment to appreciate this sight - I’d never seen a woman’s vulva up close, nevermind my own. The velvety lips and soft curves, pink and shimmering. It was beautiful, and sexy, and inviting. And I knew that Martin agreed.

So. I hooked Martin’s thumbs through the loops of my jeans, and tugged. The angle wasn’t the most alluring ever, I had to admit - my back was stretched over, and it was doing my butt any favours. So, I pulled my hips back, letting my waist drop down, creating that arch guys seemed to love so much. I was starting to get it.

‘Do you like me?’ I asked out loud, knowing Martin couldn’t answer. He wasn’t in charge anymore. He was just along for the ride. ‘Are you excited, Martin?’

The funny thing was, because he wasn’t able to stop me, he’d stopped trying. For all his judgmental looks, he had resigned himself to letting me use him faster than I had expected. He felt… absolved of guilt.

Well, if lust is a sin, he’s as guilty as me.

‘Do you like how much you want this?’ I asked him. ‘I can feel it, Martin. It’s wrong, and you know it, but a part of you doesn’t care. You just want to take me.’

I took his middle finger and traced it up my thigh, feeling the soft, waiting flesh. I was slick, my sex drooling in anticipation of what was to come, so I slid his finger along the wetness. Up, up, up, into the crease of my hip, not yet touching the lips of my pussy, letting my juices stick to his finger. To tease him, I sucked my wetness off his finger, tasting myself on him. Inside his head, he could have groaned. I was slightly sour, yet there was a freshness to it.

‘Do you want to taste me more?’ I asked, shifting him down onto his knees, my legs pinned together in front of him, my waiting holes centimeters from his face. He was made to kiss my thighs, my buttcheeks, biting and nibbling all of my soft bits, as I felt his cock grow hard. I wanted to feel those lips on my tongue, so he leaned forwards. After that, I wasn’t sure if it was me or him, because we both wanted it. We both ate my sopping pussy like a melting dessert, licking and sucking and kissing, tasting every part of me. His tongue slid along my clit, and dipped into my pussy, and wet the trail up to my pucker. I was almost upset there was no one inside my body to enjoy all of this, even though me and Martin were having a ball eating my sex out together.

Then, a cruel thought struck me.

I stood, dragging us both away from that sweet nectar, and quickly found my dressing gown that hung from the bedroom door. I pulled the soft belt-like tassel from it’s loops, and returned to me. Martin, inside his head, asked questions that I ignored, as I bound my unmoving hands behind my back, wrapping me up from the thumbs up to the elbow. It was rudimentary, and half-remembered from inside Martin’s head - I was looking at his memories now, which I didn’t know was a possibility - but the bind would hold. I felt Martin’s appreciation glow inside his head - seeing me bent over, tied down, wet and waiting. It was a dream come true for him, despite any of his previous grievances.

So, I set him back to work eating me out, licking and sucking my pussy, and then I retreated.

Immediately, I felt the binding, soft on my skin but tight and stretching my shoulders back; then, the position of being bent over the side of the sofa, blood rushing to my face and making me light-headed; then, the overwhelming surge of pleasure that made me moan and writhe.

As I’d hoped, Martin didn’t stop. He didn’t hesitate as I left him in charge of himself - instead, he fucked me with his tongue, pushing me closer and closer to release.

‘Yes,’ I moaned as he ate me. ‘Oh, Martin - God, YES!’

I was shivering and grinding on him as his fingers found me, a thumb circling my clit as a digit slid into me effortlessly. He bit the flesh of my butt, before everything kind of… stopped.

‘Wait,’ he said, sounding as though someone had turned the lights on in a dark room. ‘You’re back in your body.’

I looked over my shoulder, seeing him peek over the mounds of my butt. I nodded. ‘That was all you, Martin. Still think this is wrong?’

I could see the conflict in his eyes. He wanted to keep his principles, naturally - but that was difficult when breaking that principle meant fucking the girl you obviously wanted to fuck.

'Why the bondage? He asked, avoiding the question.

I smirked over the shoulder. ‘I knew that you liked it. I could see it. In your head.’

He shook his head, moving back, away from me. ‘See, that kind of thing… it’s so…’

‘Bad?’ I asked, teasing him.

‘Shut up,’ he said, laughing ever so slightly. I was winning him over, and he knew it.

‘I know you want to fuck me, Martin,’ I said. ‘There’s no point in lying. In fact, if you don’t do something in the next five seconds that makes me moan, you’ll regret it.’ I gave him a little smirk, a look of playfulness, hoping he would catch on.

Come on, I was thinking. It’s been so long since I came in this body. Just fuck me, Martin.

But, he didn’t. He took a breath, stood, and gave me a look of… disapproval? Disappointment? Whatever it was, I didn’t like it. Plus, I’d given him a fair warning.

Oh well.

Ahh…

See?

I knew he wanted to fuck me.

Why was he holding back? Because we just met? Or because I had to push him to do this. Before he realised he wasn’t being forced, he kept going at me, tasting me, licking my cunt like he loved it.

He only stopped when he realised no one was making him do it.

All that tells me is that he likes being told what to do. Being made to have fun. He like having the power taken off him, because when he has to do the fucking himself, it makes him feel guilty.

Well, I was past that. Way past it.

That body needed to cum. It needed to have pleasure tear through it, and have that release that I’ve been feeling for hours now.

But that’s not to say I had to be inside it at the time.

So, I pushed him out. Martin, or the consciousness that was Martin, woke up inside my body, wet and bound and bent over. And there was me, sporting an erection like steel, cum on my fingers and chin and tongue, the taste of pussy fuelling me.

I had never fucked a woman before, but I’d masturbated every night for years. I knew exactly how to make this body writhe and clench and beg for mercy - Martin would just have to be along for the ride.

Foreplay was over, I decided. I’d spent so long waiting, so long amping up - it was time for the real deal. I hopped off my sofa, and stripped, pulling off Martin’s clothes in seconds, until I was nude. His cock was beautiful - a good six inches, but with a bright red head that was begging for some attention, and heavy balls that felt full. I knew, in the vagueness that was Martin’s memory, he hadn’t orgasmed in days. He was in for a treat.

Martin, in my body, watched me with wide doe eyes. I looked so scared, and innocent, and horny. Oh, he couldn’t escape it. He wanted it. He just had no idea how this was going to feel.

‘Are you ready?’ I asked, and Martin seemed to remember he could speak.

‘Please,’ he asked, his voice so light and helpless. God, did I sound that slutty when I wanted sex? ‘Just think about what you’re doing.’ All the while his thin, pale arms struggled at the improvised bondage, his tits - my tits - bounced and hung under that flushed chest as he tried to think of a way out of this.

But there wasn’t a way - and I knew he didn’t actually want one. He wanted to fuck me - well, now he was inside me. Ha. Funny Phoebe.

Feeling a little bored of the sofa, I lifted the Phoebe in front of me, holding her by the waist. Martin was strong enough to take my weight, and so I pulled the shaking, desperate body into my arms and carried her through to the bedroom.

It was a mess, but who cared.

I dropped her face-down, and immediately climbed onto the bed, pinning the back of her knees under my weight.

‘Phoebe! Phoebe, just wait - please just wait!’ she begged, but I could see the wet between her pussy lips, I could see the way her face flushed like it did when I had an impure thought.

She just needed consoling. So, I leaned down, pressing my cock into the cleft of her arse cheeks - which shut her up - and put my elbows on each side of her. Martin’s lips kissed my shoulder as I consoled him, amusing myself at the paradox.

‘It’s okay,’ I said softly. ‘I’ve been inside your head. You want this.’

‘No, I-’

‘Martin,’ I said, in his voice. I started grinding, pushing the cock that used to belong to him against the wetness of my own sex, and we both moaned. ‘It’s okay. Just enjoy it like I know you will, and then in the morning we can figure everything out. We just need the release.’

Before he had a chance to react, I pulled my hips back and lined myself up.

‘Oh God,’ I heard myself moan, but which one of me said it wasn’t clear.

I pushed in, and Martin’s cock filled my pussy in one deep, slick press. Oh, how different everything felt from this side of sex. The cock was an instrument of impatience, demanding. I could feel every ripple of my own pussy, the grip pulling me deeper, inviting me deep within.

‘Oh wow,’ I moaned, kissing the cleft of my own neck. Martin cooed, shifting buttocks against hips, feeling a cock inside him for the first time.

‘So good,’ he whimpered, and I smiled.

‘See?’

‘Oh fuck, Phoebe,’ he moaned. ‘You’re so wet…’

‘No, that’s you,’ I whispered, pulling my hips back. ‘Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to fuck you with your own cock. Okay?’

He nodded, whimpering as he felt me retreat, and then press back in. ‘Okay!’

Thump, thump, thump. The headboard slowly picked up the pace as my hips did, fucking my own bound body in earnest.

‘Fuck!’ Martin moaned.

‘How does it feel, baby?’ I asked as I fucked him from behind, his balls slapping against my own clit, sending shivers through my gender-swapping lover. ‘Do you like my cock inside you?’

‘Fuck yes,’ he moaned. She moaned. It barely mattered anymore. ‘Oh god - hah! Ah! AHhhh!’ I felt the muscles grip around me, her orgasm ripping through my body like a wave, starting low and working outwards, upwards, to the surface. ‘FUCK! PHOEBE!!’

I kept pace, knowing what I would want a guy to do - I was low over her body, my hips slamming into her cheeks, pushing her bottom half into the bed with each pound, the bedsprings bouncing her back up each time. Martin was almost completely passive, moaning and cumming under me as I fucked myself silly.

After I felt her relax, I pulled out.

‘Uhh,’ Martin complained, but I just flipped her over, spread her legs wide, and saw the look in my own eyes as I impaled Martin on his own cock. ‘Wha-?’

In moments, he was moaning again, obviously not used to the idea of shotgun orgasms. Well, I thought it only polite to get him acquainted. Plus, the body he was in was well-overdue a good rutting.

Thump, thump, thump, thump - over and over I fucked him, feeling how our bodies meshed together, the smell of our sex warming the air as we moaned in tandem. I fondled myself, and Martin moaned at the sensation of his newly-sensitive nipples being teased as he came for the third time in as many minutes. I lifted him easily, bringing him up onto me and pulled apart the bondage on his arms - immediately his hand found my body, gripping my neck as he rode me, bucking against my hips and grinding my cock deep inside him.

Then, all at once, our lips met. It was fast, and then slow, and then fast again, our tongues and lips languidly enjoying each other as we fucked, that perky body impaled on my, sat in my lap. My hands here on his back, his butt, in his hair, feeling myself and him at the same time.

‘This… is mad,’ Martin moaned between moanful breaths and stolen kisses.

‘Good mad?’ I asked, thrusting upwards. He yelped with my voice, and ground against his own cock.

‘Amazing,’ he said. ‘Never felt anything like this. Never came back-to-back like that.’

He kissed my neck, his small hands on my pecs, and I decided I like the sound of that.

‘My turn,’ I said, and then I focussed.

Oh, the shift was intense. All of a sudden, I went from being a pillar of power and strength and sexual will, to a puddle of wetness, held aloft by his frame, his cock rubbing my g-spot as his hands explored me. I could feel that glow travelling through me, the muscles in my body relaxed and relieved at the orgasms he had shot into me.

‘Oh wow,’ he said, back in himself. ‘Oh, you’re so tight…’

‘Shut up and fuck me,’ I breathed, kissing him again.

And boy, did he. He started by pulling me down onto him, lying back so he was under me, and pistoning upwards into me like a jack-hammer. Our foreheads met as his cock pounded me, hands on my hips to keep me up, holding me like his plaything. Then, just as I was getting close, he suddenly rolled, winding up with me beneath him, only to kiss me as he started pounding away again. I could feel his balls slapping against me, his hands holding the small of my back upwards to keep the angle just right, and his thighs forcing my legs wide.

‘Martin!’ I moaned, unable to do anything else but lie there and take it. ‘Fuck me - fuck me! Make me cum!’

Over and over and over, he plunged into me, filling me blissfully with each thrust. He powered me through a bone-rattling orgasm, and then pulled himself out to eat me to another - when I asked why, he said he was close to cumming and wanted the night to last. So-

-I swapped back, and gave him the orgasm of a lifetime.

It was, after that, a mess of swapping, using my body to cum over and over, stopping the night from ending as soon as he came everywhere. Of course, he did cum inside me, more than once, but over the next six hours that was barely a footnote.

For hours, we fucked, and were fucked, swapping and sharing and using each other and being used, our bodies never leaving each other and our minds interlacing and overlapping.

It was bliss.

It only ended when me and Martin shared his body, and fucked my limp cock-sleeve cunt to exhaustion as a final hurrah, orgasming together inside him, his cum spraying from his like a hose, painting my belly and tits a glossy ivory.

After that-

I found my body again, and we promptly fell asleep, worn out beyond what either of us had expected to endure.

~7~

Days later, after me and Martin had spent every waking moment introducing each other to the other’s body - who knew a prostate massage would feel like that, and who knew Martin would enjoy having an anal plug in while his pussy was fucked - we had come to the agreement that this was a power too strong to only use for pleasure.

Also, it was too strong to use it for just about anything.

We knew we could get a comfortable life by me ‘sharing’ with rich fuckers and just having them send over some easy money - which we planned to do soon enough. But, by large, neither of us had plans to change the world. Not really.

Martin’s aspirations were cut off at the knee after the scare with the trial’s fundraisers - who we realised, with my abilities, wouldn’t be much of a problem now anyway. He just wanted to continue his PhD work, which this trial had been helping to finance.

And me. Well, I had to admit, after our night together, I told Martin about my ‘agreement’ with Neil, and he thought it was cruel. So, I promised to make it up to him.

As I got out of the lift on that fifteenth floor, not scheduled to be in as I tend to have Uni on a Monday, and found the place empty but for Neil as it was before 8:30, I felt a little rush go through me at the idea of living out this fantasy of mine. His. Ours. It didn’t matter to me anymore where the want came from - just like with Martin, it felt good, and I finally had the power to act on it. The world was open to me now - and I didn’t have to put up with jumping through any hoops to pay for my shitty flat, or Martin’s education. I didn’t have to do anything I didn’t want to.

So, I knocked on Neil’s door, saw his surprised expression watch silently as I entered, pulled his chair away from his desk, unbuttoned my blouse to show him the lack of a bra underneath, and settled myself on my knees beneath his desk.

Neil wheeled himself into place, and I stroked the bulge of his erection through the leg of his trousers, unzipping him and letting his meat flop out. I assumed the position, and absent-mindedly started to make it up to him, as I thought about what I was going to use to make Martin scream my name tonight when I got home…

I knew I was able to live out any dream I wanted - but, it turns out that when you have all the power in the world, sometimes what you want is to be powerless.

[xorg]

Out Of Options, Out Of Line

Part - 1

The sequel to Out of Body, Out of Mind.

This one has been ruminating for a while, as I wanted to do these characters justice - knowing where to take this story next was a challenge of not just building on what was already there, but knowing when not to build too high. A large part of what made the first outing for Phoebe and Martin enjoyable was the fact it was minimal on the sci-fi nonsense that has a habit of dominating this genre, and while this entry does dip into the realm of sci-fi when it needs to, I’ve made sure to keep the focus of the writing with the characters. That’s what we care about, and that’s what I, as a writer, want to explore.

Hope you enjoy,

Love, Danni x

All characters are, of course, above 18 years old.

CW; questionable consent; mind control; gender play; body swap;

~ 1 ~

Without trying to sound overly self-aggrandising, things were going well.

As Alex fucked me - Zara - us - in their bed, the sheets a mess and the frame bouncing into the wall, I allowed myself to just enjoy it. To enjoy the feeling of his pelvis colliding with my - her - bubble butt, both of us on our sides, with Alex’ hand gripping my pert tit in one hand, his other around my throat. My leg was up, and when I had the chance to look down I was gifted with the delicious image of his thick member splitting Zara’s tight pussy in half.

We moaned, the three of us, even if one of us wasn’t totally welcome.

‘Daddy, yes,’ we moaned, the lewd words driving us both closer to the edge - I could feel Zara alongside me, each thrust hitting her g-spot, making us slam back into her lover as he squeezed her neck.

He was an animal. A brutish, beautiful animal, and his need to fill Zara’s slit with cum each morning was threatening to drive me insane.

‘Shit,’ he moaned, shifting in the bed.

Me and Zara yelped, as our shared body was rolled from the side and onto our front. Her tits pressed into the mattress as Alex kept going, not missing a beat, fucking us into the bed with our moans lost into the pillows.

‘Daddy! Fuck yes! Make me CUM!’

Zara’s vocal fry made her porn-star quality, especially when I used her throat to voice my sluttier impulses.

I gripped the bedding, a delightful fold of blanket stroking Zara’s clit with each up-stroke, as our moans crescendoed in a joint wail. I pushed back, feeling Alex’s manhood press deep into Zara’ cunt, his hot cum spraying into her as it did each morning. How she wasn’t pregnant by now was a mystery to me, but I wasn’t much complaining. The longer this fantasy remained a reality, the better.

The orgasm swam through Zara’s muscles, and I swam inside of her endorphins - the warm glow spreading through her as her body hummed in pleasure. Lights sparked behind her eyes, as we swayed her truly fuckable backside, grinding against Alex’s pelvis.

With a heave, and a sigh, Alex dropped onto the bed beside us, as the orgasm faded, and I retreated from Zara with a glow of my own.

Martin was still asleep, and the clock read 06:37. The afterglow of orgasmic endorphins almost seemed to lift me up and out of bed, and while my body hadn’t been given the precious kiss of cumming, my mind had. By now, I knew from experience that ‘edging’ my body by not actually cumming in it would make the eventual orgasm more intense - so much so that it had almost become a running joke between Martin and me how long I could keep it going without orgasming inside my own body. The downside, of course, was that the longer I went cumming multiple times a day - be it as Alex, Zara, Martin, or even Neil (when I bothered to go into work, which wasn’t as often any more) - the more horny I was, which was multiplied by how little stimulation this body had been given.

Edging without edging. It was magical. My record was two weeks, after which I had cracked and just about jumped Martin before bed. The memory of that night, even now, made my thighs squirm together, the warm slick of my sex humming with resdiual, ghost-pleasure.

I made coffee, knowing that it was best to let Martin sleep. He had been working just about non-stop for the last month or so, and while it had been a good six months since, you know, everything, I still felt a pang of guilt for everything that happened. I mean, sure, he was the one who injected me with the mind-altering chemical, but he wasn’t in charge of that project. He wasn’t really to blame.

Me? I’d thrown his life upside down. Because of me, and my… developed abilities, he had lost his private job, which meant he lost his funding, and his reputation. It was a slippery slope and, while I didn’t mean to, he tripped over me and fell down it.

All in all, neither of us blamed the other, but I think we both had the weight of responsibility on our shoulders.

I took him in - which was the least I could do. My ‘powers’ - god, it felt strange to call them that - allowed me to quite easily get a raise at work, which made my life a lot easier. Neil, my blubbery boss, was happy to accept an under-the-desk worshipping now and again, and so long as I was sharing his mind every so often, his pleasure blended with mine.

In all honesty, I kind of loved it.

Call it kinky-at-best, or flat-out disturbed, but allowing myself to be used, to be a willing cock-sleeve for my would-be-rapist boss, whose fantasies about me were as forceful as they were lurid… it was hot.

As such, I was able to take enough time to finish my Uni work in plenty of time for the winter break, and as Christmas crawled closer, I knew that I was on a good path. My tutor for Cultural Context in Literature had sent me an email only the night before telling me that the piece I was writing about Victorian cultural practices contributing to the ‘Golden Age of Ghost Stories’ was coming along beautifully, so I was forgiving myself the week to relax before that became a significant stressor in my life.

Besides, there was something big about this weekend, and I was knee-deep in planning and plotting. Martin’s thirtieth birthday landed on Friday, and I was determined to bring to life one honest-to-God fantasy for him.

At 7am, the alarm buzzed in the bedroom, and after a minute Martin wandered through, a frown on his face and his boxers sporting a vacuum-like outline of his package.

‘Morning,’ I said to him, as I sipped on my own coffee, wearing nothing but some comfy boxers I’d stolen off him, and my dressing gown. His eyes slid to my cleavage, and a dumb smile appeared on his lips.

‘Morning,’ he echoed. ‘You’re up early.’

I shrugged. ‘The neighbours were at it again,’ I said. Martin was well-acquainted with Zara and Alex by now - he still wasn’t totally happy that I had swapped with Zara back when I was still figuring everything out, but after hearing them in the midst of an animalistic fuck-session through the wall, he said he ‘got it’.

The fact that I was still, you know, sharing the odd (or daily) intimate moment with them, he wasn’t privy to. Hence, why I kept to the early morning stuff, when I could still be asleep for all he knew, as opposed to my body being noticeably ‘empty’.

‘You look…’ he trailed off, as his hand slid under my gown, just to hold the small of my back, his thumb grazing me softly.

‘Confident?’ I asked, leading him into the subject of the day. His eyebrow twitched, but he didn’t ask. He could tell I wanted him to follow up, so he didn’t. Tease.

‘Sexy,’ he said eventually, tugging me closer. I let him, and soon enough we were entwined the way we had been pretty much every morning since that day.

Martin’s hands clamored all over me, slightly clumsy in his newly-awake daze, but I didn’t complain. Instead, I simply let my leg slide over his midriff as he kissed me, and straddled him as he pulled the duvet from between us. Slowly, lazily, and so unlike what Alex and Zara had been doing next door, Martin’s hardness slipped into me. A gasp escaped me, the slickness of my sex - perhaps a result of my mind wandering - welcoming Martin to the hilt as I sat on him.

‘Shit,’ I mumbled as Martin’s hands gripped my tits, our hips rolling beneath us. The head of his cock had a habit of dragging against that very special spot inside me, like stroking a guitar string at just the right pressure, drawing notes of pleasure from me as I whined over him.

Martin’s mouth went to my nipple, his hands dragging against my back as I rode him, a little faster now, his lapping lips and grinding hips making me mewl.

‘Fuck, yes,’ I moaned, one hand on his shoulder, the other holding the head of the bed as we rocked, back and forth, going from making love to fucking.

‘Jesus Christ,’ Martin moaned as I rode him, the rolling hips leading into bucking. His cock fucked up into me, making us both gasp with each impact, my tits bouncing before his face.

‘Yes, yes, yesss,’ I moaned, the tension in my body as it reached climax catching up to my mind - catching up with the pleasure I had endured within Zara. I had come already this morning, and yet got to enjoy the climax as it hit like it was my first orgasm of the day; hot and eager and muscle-aching.

It shocked through me, as Martin’s orgasm kept pace, shortly behind. He gasped, hands on my hips holding me against him as he came inside, filling me with his warmth. His head lolled back, and I hugged him, my body still atop him, our chests rising in tandem as we caught our breath.

‘Wow,’ he sighed, and I felt a glow of pride glow inside me.

It occurred to me, in a rather strange way, that this was the first time we had fucked without any swapping or sharing. Ever. This was the first time, as ourselves and only ourselves, that this had happened.

Well. I liked it.

‘So,’ I said, sucking in a breath of cleansing air, trying to pull energy back into myself after having it plowed out of me. ‘I need to love you and leave you,’ I said. ‘Big day.’

He frowned at me, and I shrugged. Then, as I slipped off him, we both gave a little gasp, then a joint giggle. A morning routine, of sorts.

‘Something big at work?’ Martin asked me as I pulled on some underwear, but I shook my head.

‘Kind of the opposite.’

‘Oh?’

I shrugged on a shirt that, in all honesty, could do with an iron - but oh well. Didn’t matter.

‘What’s your plan for the day?’ I asked him, as he sat up in the bed, making no visible effort to get ready for, well, anything.

He cracked his neck, and stretched out his shoulder. ‘I actually have a meeting later,’ he said, coy as ever.

‘I hate that you can’t tell me about it,’ I complained, hiking up my jeans. ‘I’m nosy.’

‘If you wanted, you could always just pop yourself inside my head and go looking,’ he said, pushing.

‘Nah - you’ve earned your privacy,’ I said. Martin laughed, a quick snort that made me frown. ‘What?’

‘Just you. Privacy, against Phoebe Canning, is kind of an impossibility.’ I think he realised that he was teetering on the edge of insulting me, so he sat forwards and pulled my hand into his. ‘Which would be a problem, if only I had something to hide.’

I kissed his stupid face, and went looking for some socks. ‘What, more than your super-secret work?’

He kissed my nose. ‘Government contract, with all of the confidentiality that goes with it. I can’t tell you anything - but, if you managed to read my mind and suss it out, I wouldn’t complain.’ His hand snaked around my hip again, pulling me to the edge of the bed as he sat up, kneeling to match my height. His cock, pressed against the leg of my jeans, sent a thread of excitement through me I had to swallow down. No time for that.

‘Besides,’ he said, close enough for me to feel his breath. ‘I think we’re past realising that I like you inside me.’

I gave in, and kissed him again, pushing him backwards onto the bed. Besides - who cared if I was late today?

~ 2 ~

‘I quit,’ I said, holding my head high. It had been a month since anyone but Neil had seen me, and his vision of me was a less-than-typical one. Namely, of me coming in before hours to sneak under his desk, and spending a workday’s effort giving him unending, teasing, worship.

I’d spent whole days taunting his cock with my tongue; others spent suckling on his balls until they were red and stretched; one stood out where I had planted myself balls-deep on his length before ‘sharing’ with him, leaving my body brainless. I had held my own hair in Neil’s fist, dragging throat along his cock, pleasuring myself with my half-alive body.

It had been heaven.

Whether the sex, or kink, or even abuse as I had thought it could be considered, was ethical was kind of besides the point. Neil was having a great time, and because I had a recording of him ‘raping’ me, I always had the option to leave. To walk away.

Which was what I was doing.

‘Right,’ Neil said, his wide face sad, clearly upset he wouldn’t be able to fuck mine anymore. Boo hoo. ‘Can I ask why?’

As I sat across from him, the dark, heavy desk between us lewdly familiar to me, I could almost feel my coworkers listening in, through the slightly-ajar door. Around us, the stained-grey and -yellow walls and plant pots and 90’s technology watched on, the same as the day I’d started here. The low ceilings made my neck hurt, like I was having to crane my neck, despite my shorter stature.

‘You haven’t given me shifts in months, and I’m done waiting,’ I said, giving him a wink. He breathed out what I realised was baited breath, and the fear in him seemed to fall away. He was truly afraid I was about to send that video to his wife, or daughter. Or maybe even around the office.

Considering how awful a man he could be, that might have even been apt.

But I didn’t. He’d paid me for my ‘services’, and in all honesty, I’d enjoyed every dirty, stinking second of hit fat, long cock. I didn’t have any harsh feelings, and I wasn’t feeling particularly malicious. After all, with a gift like mine, I was hardly left wanting for much, was I?

‘I need more time for Uni,’ I said, tapping his desk. ‘So, this is immediate.’

His hand landed on top of mine as I stood, making me pause. Then, voice low, he asked me, ‘You’re not expecting… payment any more?’

I shook my head. ‘No.’

‘Even, you know, considering. The video, I mean. It’s not-’

‘It’s deleted,’ I said. It was a lie, but I was probably going to delete it when I got out of there.

Again, he sagged in relief, and released my hand. ‘Right. Good. Yes.’

I gave him a smile. ‘Thank you for the opportunity,’ I said, before pulling the office door open. Through the office, I got more than one odd look - people trying to work out where I’d been, what was going on - hell, a few faces I didn’t recognise, and they were probably trying to figure out who I was. Poking their heads around their desk dividers, computer screen blinking out-of-date technology and creaking in that way plastic does.

When the door to the lift slid shut on my way down, I knew I wasn’t going to miss this place.

I stepped into the lobby, the cold hardwood floor a cheap imitation of something more impressive and the slightly-less-neglected grey walls greeted me. At the front desk I had walked past daily for years stood the security guard, a lovely middle-aged man named Frank, who was listening to the local news on the radio.

‘How many people still listen to the radio?’ I asked, and he smiled at me as I passed - before I stopped. On the news, there was a report that one of the streets in the center of the city had been shut down for filming of an undisclosed Hollywood movie. ‘What’s going on there?’

‘That new Sylvia Wellons flick,’ Frank said, barely noticing me. ‘She’s a nice one, eh?’

She was. And it gave me an idea for my plan.

Martin was going to love this one.

Outside our building of flats - the same as ever, partially because Martin had only just gotten himself comfortable, and partially because I couldn’t bring myself to give up on Zara and Alex’s sex life - was that black van.

I’d seen it once or twice before. Just distinct enough to be recognisable, without doing anything specifically suspicious. I parked up next to it, and tried to look in through the window - only to see a woman with dark red hair, and a viper-like facial structure. Strong and angular. She was older, maybe in her forties, and was digging through her purse.

Haven’t seen you before, I thought to myself as I watched her get out of the van, smoothing down her smart business-appropriate dress and shaking out her hair. Then, she started towards the building.

I frowned, not understanding why I had a sort-of sinking feeling in my stomach, but trusting it enough to figure something must be up.

Martin said he had a meeting, I remembered. Maybe this is just that - someone to talk to about his private work.

I shouldn’t intrude.

But, as I settled myself into my seat, ensuring my belt was tight enough to keep me upright, I focused on the woman, and let that familiar, almost unconscious THRUMM wash over me.

I held back, choosing only to wait in the back corners of this woman’s mind as she waltzed up to the building, happy as Larry. She was confident, and calm, and I could feel the authority she carried in her stature. Shoulders back, strong gait, briefcase at her side swinging like a battering ram. She was ready to lay down some law.

So, as she pushed the button to my floor on the lift, I watched. Confident, too. Not because I had any reason to be - in fact, there was every reason for me to start freaking out with nerves; but I was within her mind, and inside her head there was only control.

I discovered, skirting the top-most level of her memory as the lift doors slid shut and the motion upwards made our stomach twist, that her name was Ava Harding. She was smart - smarter than me, on most accounts. And I could feel the base of her motivation as she exited onto the mould-ridden carpet outside my flat.

She was in attack mode. A threat on her tongue, ready to lash out when needed. A loaded gun.

She passed Zara and Alex’s flat, and stopped at my door. I watched from within her mind as she knocked twice, heavy and demanding an answer. Within ten seconds, Martin pulled open the door, and welcomed her in quickly.

‘Ava,’ he said, greeting her.

Why the fuck he knew her name, I didn’t know. But I was intending to find out.

She stepped into my home, into my life, and her ease and assuredness lifted something like rage in me. Anger. Betrayal.

Only I couldn’t feel those things. Right now, I was part of her, and she was dominant. All I could feel was the calm collectedness, slightly tense nature of her.

‘Martin,’ she said, stopping dead in our living room and turning to face him. He looked nervous. It didn’t suit him - my nerdy, spindly little man who made me feel so safe and cared for. Here he was, twisting his fingers and shifting his weight. ‘You need to explain to me, right now, before I take this anywhere near the others, why exactly your work seems to fly in the face of what we’re doing.’

He swallowed, and I recognised the cogs turning inside his head - organising scattered thoughts, getting them in neat rows, ready to launch. ‘Ava-’

But she wasn’t patient. I could feel that. She put her hand up, quickly and surgically. ‘Just… just tell me why you think it’s a good idea. No excuses.’

Martin nodded. ‘Last time… the deaths were preventable. The issues, as I could see it, was that there was no ‘off switch’ for if anything went wrong. A failsafe. So, with our funding-’

‘My funding,’ she sliced in. ‘My funding, Martin. I brought you on because you have a familiarity with the material, without legal culpability. Do you understand? You belong to me, because the moment you try and do anything I dislike, I send all of the information we recovered from your previous employers to the authorities, and I make sure your name is on the first document they open.’

Martin nodded, shaken. ‘Right.’

‘However,’ she said. ‘You’re right to be cautious. As the only carry-over, your experience in this… material is invaluable. If you thought a fail-safe is needed, you should have let me know.’

‘You were in Cuba,’ he said simply.

A flicker of amusement registered in Ava’s mind. She liked his spark. ‘Was I? Well then. Perhaps I should congratulate you on your ingenuity.’ She stepped forwards, making to go past him and exit, before stopping at his side. Her hand, light as a feather, went to his chest, and I realised that she was a few inches taller than him. ‘If, and only if, you are correct, of course. If this saves lives, you’re in for a promotion. If this fails, and you’ve wasted my funds on an unapproved project, you’re out.’

Martin nodded, and Ava left, pulling the door shut behind her.

THRUMM.

The car came back to me, and the dusting of rain that had started to spread dark spots onto the concrete outside. The building, short and squat, watched me as I waited for Ava to emerge from its mouth - and when she did, I made my own exit.

Her eyes, brown and deceptively warm, slid over me as we passed, and she barely seemed to register my existence.

Whatever Martin has done, he hasn’t told her about me, I thought as I rushed inside. I passed through the lobby wordlessly, and skipped up the stairs, which I knew to be faster than the lift on most days - though, honestly, it was more to use up my nervous energy.

When I found myself outside the door, all of a sudden, it was as though time had slipped from me. I wasn’t paying attention to what was around me, because I was too focused on trying to parse apart what Martin had said.

What he’d admitted to.

I pushed open the flat door, and saw Martin on the sofa, alone. He sprang up, and then relaxed as he realised who I was. That I wasn’t Ava.

But, as I approached him, his expression changed from relief to confusion. Then, realisation.

‘Phoebe,’ he said, as though calming a protective dog in a house he was robbing. A criminal, pushing responsibility away through the false lens of ‘being sensible’.

‘What have you done,’ I demanded - not hardly a question.

He sighed. ‘You heard.’

‘I was in her,’ I told him outright, my voice louder than caution would advise. ‘I was watching, from behind her eyes, as you explained. How you were making a ‘failsafe’, so that what happened last time wouldn’t happen again.’

I stopped, letting him fill the gaps. Again, I watched him scramble, but I was less calm this time. Less collected than the inside of Ava’s mind.

‘She… approached me, about a month after, you know. Everything. Her company bought the equipment left behind by the last lot, disavowed by whatever shadowy organisation it was. She saw all of the logs, the write-ups. Like she said, I wasn’t even in a position of responsibility last time around, but she came to me and said that she needed my experience. Good money, and she would keep me safe from any legal ramifications if any of this ever… got out.’

‘Protection,’ I repeated back to him, and he nodded, seeing the humour.

‘I know, I know - I should have just told you, Phoebe. But… once I was in there, and I saw how they were working on recreating the serum, it got me thinking. What I said to her was true - I designed a sort-of blocker. Something to stop any symptoms-’

‘Symptoms?’ I laughed. ‘Martin, you’re working for a company that wants to weaponise psychic abilities. God - could you imagine if, instead of me, someone like her had gotten this gift I have? Because, I assure you, the moment her company has a safe version of this,’ I tapped my head for effect. ‘She’ll have it. And then she’ll be doing God-knows what.’

Martin sighed, defeated. ‘That’s why I’m there.’ I must have looked at him like he had two heads. ‘I’m sabotaging them, Phoebe. Stopping them from getting anywhere good, while I make a cure.’

That made me pause. ‘A cure.’

He nodded. ‘I know, I know that you’ve gotten a lot out of this gift - but we don’t know if it’s safe. The only other person who tried it died, and we don’t know why you survived. Maybe dumb luck. Maybe it’s a delayed reaction. In a year, ten years, whatever - you could have that same reaction. In that case, I want to be ready. To save you.’

‘Martin,’ I started, trying to tell him how angry I was.

‘I love you,’ he said. Of course it would come out like that. An interruption. ‘Sorry,’ he followed it up with. ‘I just… I love you. And the fear I have of losing you… I won’t give in to it. But I’m in there to keep you safe, and to stop this happening to anyone else. I swear.’

I didn’t know what else to say.

‘I love you too.’

~ 3 ~

I watched Martin leave about fifteen minutes later, our less-than-romantic declaration undercut further by the fact that he actually did have to go into work and perform his ‘sabotage’. God, what a stupid idea. But the mere fact that someone had the data needed to recreate that serum was terrifying, and if Martin was willing to get close enough to stop that from happening… I wouldn’t be able to stop him.

Not now that he loved me!!

God, it was so dumb, but with everything else going on, I was struggling to think about anything other than that.

He loved me.

Martin loved me.

He was so smart, and funny, and sexy, and he loved me.

The giddiness didn’t suit me, but I’d spent so long alone, thinking that I was unwanted and would stay that way… and today, thanks to that stupid serum, I was in love. Maybe it wasn’t all bad.

THUD THUD THUD.

The three knocks at my door, furious and demanding, made my heart jump and my stomach sink.

‘What now?’ I mumbled as I pulled myself off the sofa and peered through the peek-hole, only to see Zara outside, in a casual tank-top (no bra, of course), and black jeans that showed off her butt. I had, as Alex, fucked that delicious rear-end so many times that it was difficult to separate that desire from myself.

In her eyes, however, I saw fire. Fury.

‘I know you’re there,’ she yelled at the door, making me step back in instinctively. ‘I heard you and that guy fighting - and I heard everything.’

Oh.

Oh.

Oh fuck.

I fumbled with the lock, sliding it open and pulling the door enough to see Zara on the other side. She slammed her hand onto the door and pushed it open, forcing her way in, and slammed it behind me.

For a hot second, I thought she was going to hurt me - and the idea came to me that, in that case, I would have to Share with her - take over, and stop her. It was my fail-safe, if anything ever went wrong.

My gift.

But, instead of attacking me, she just stood, maybe an inch away, and held my gaze. Fire and fury indeed.

‘Tell me,’ she demanded.

‘I don’t-’ I tried, but she shook her head.

‘All those times,’ she said, eyes drifting as though keeping contact with mine was less important than it had been a moment ago. ‘All those times, when me and Alex were… together. I felt like I could feel someone in my head. Like I wasn’t… I wasn’t feeling everything. And, months ago - mid-way through him fucking ruining me, I wake up in here. In your fucking flat. And now I know why, huh?’

‘Zara, listen to me,’ I said, but she didn’t want to hear it.

‘No - no, you tell me right now what happened, or I swear to God, I’ll… I’ll…’

‘You’ll what?’ I said, standing a little straighter now. ‘Zara, if you’ve worked it out, you know what I can do. That I can stop you.’

‘I’ll go public,’ she said, but her voice shook just a little. ‘I’ll tell people to look for your boy, Martin, and his boss. What was her name, Ava?’

I frowned. ‘How did you-’

‘Thin walls,’ she said. Then, she laughed. ‘God, all this time, you’ve been hearing me and Alex while you’re sitting in here. And, the day your little pervert tush got psychic powers, you just, what? Wanted a piece of him? Wanted to feel what it was like to get railed?’

I felt my face flush, and Zara saw it. ‘You can’t tell anyone that. About Ava.’

‘What if I do?’ she said.

I considered it. She wasn’t giving me much of a choice here. I didn’t want to do anything… rash. But she was pushing.

Martin was on a razor’s edge already - I didn’t need anything coming in the way of that.

So, somewhat reluctantly, I took her.

There we go.

I took control, catching my own body with Zara’s arms as it dropped, and slid myself over to the sofa. Within, I could feel Zara fighting at the walls of her own mind, and I simply lay a blanket over her. Like a cat in a box.

‘You wanted to play this game,’ I said to the air, knowing she could hear me. ‘So lets play.’

Blackmail was the easiest route - Neil had taught me that. No need for anything too… violent. Nothing too gruesome. Just a little emotional leverage, and keep that for a rainy day. Enough to keep the calm, and make sure I was on top.

Besides, there was no putting the cat back in the bag now - Zara knew. Which meant that, unless I did something drastic, and quickly, she would use it against me. She’d made that much clear.

So, looking for something to use, I scoured her memories.

I saw images of Alex and her - their sex-central lives. I watched a memory, like a playback, where she was drunk and kissed another man while Alex was nearby, and he jumped in at the guy - beating him to a near-pulp. I could taste the vodka-cokes on her tongue, and smell the cigarette smoke from that night, all of that sensory information flooding back.

‘So, he’s possessive,’ I said. Zara agreed, unwittingly. I could feel it in her.

So, I pushed back further. Before Alex, when Zara was a student - youthful and skinny and slutty. I saw a multitude of partners, but one stood out.

She had met Alex while at a party - which was when he had bragged to her about making her cum three times in one night. He had lived up to that, of course, but she hadn’t gone to that party with Alex. She’d gone with a lovely guy, burly and masculine, named Jefferson. An American, he’d moved to the UK for uni, and gotten a job here - he was older than her by a few years, and at the time had been a tad too rough with her. Like to slap her as they fucked, and choke her.

Now, since Alex’s input, Zara was a bit more into that stuff - but at the time she’d been ready to leave. Hence taking up Alex on his offer.

I also knew, from Zara’s delightful memory of him, that Jefferson worked within walking distance, and lived only a short drive away.

‘That’s that, then,’ I decided, stealing my own flat keys from my unconscious self’s body, and made my way outside.

I could feel her, beneath that psychic blanket, struggling for release or control as I started up her car, planting her purse on the chair next to her. I grabbed her phone as we idled in the car park, rain softly varnishing the world outside, and pressed Zara’s finger to the small circle on the back. It opened up, and I started to have a sort through some of the photos she had - a healthy mix of selfies, pictures of friends on nights out, and saved dog pics from the internet. Then, interspersed, there would be five or six lewd photographs of her tits, half-hidden in twilight, and then one of her full-frontal in front of her bathroom mirror.

I remembered, vividly, embodying Zara as Alex fucked her senseless, our face pressed into that mirror, once. That had been… an experience. Watching her eyes roll back in pleasure as Zara’s cervix was kissed by the head of his cock… it was heaven.

I smirked, and flicked over to her texts. I scrolled, finding an old exchange between her and ‘Jefferson’ - an oddly formal name considering the way Zara’s body reacted to seeing his name. A flutter of the lips, a warmth in her sex. A sort of physical memory. She associated him with pleasure, even after all this time.

I sent him the selfie, the full-frontal, backlit by the light of the window, a halo effect almost making her glow in the picture. She looked delectable.

Z// Wanna have some fun? I typed out. I’ve missed that cock.

Zara damn neared pleaded inside her own head, but I kept her locked down - at least for now.

Within a minute, Jefferson had replied.

J // Holy shit. Yes. You wanna meet?

Z // Tell me where you are. I’ll cum to you.

As Jefferson’s address popped up on the screen, I decided to give Zara a choice. ‘This can all stop now,’ I told her. ‘I have enough here that Alex would leave you in a heartbeat. Just say the word, and it stops. Say you’ll keep quiet.’

I gave Zara her mouth back.

‘Fuck you - how fucking could you - I’ll kill you bitch-’

I stopped her, pushing her back down like a straw trying to escape a fizzy drink. ‘Maybe we’re not done yet then.’

With that, I copied the address into Google Maps, and listened to the directions as I pulled away.

‘You should know,’ I said to the air, speaking to Zara through her own voice. ‘I’ve done this before. Or, something like this. Blackmail, I guess. Which is an ugly word, but… I don’t want to. Not really. I wasn’t hurting anyone. I was just… enjoying what you had. Maybe that was wrong, but I did it. And I enjoyed it, to be honest. And because you went and tried to ruin it, look where we are.’

With her eyes, I watched the road, listening to the SatNav as we got closer and closer to Jefferson’s address. Memories popped up, triggered by some of the things around us - Zara remembered the roads from when she used to come here after work for a long weekend with Jeff - that’s what she liked to call him. They would fuck, unending, for days, and by the end of it she would be worn out. His tendency to play rough had, more than once, ended with her tied to his bed and gagged, face-down with a pillow under her hips, as she was used as a cock-sleeve for days. He fed her through a straw, taking out the gag four times a day to give her a smoothie, and telling her that she should ‘hold’ her toilet breaks until he was done. He’d let her piss, then tie her back up for another few hours.

Then, when he was done on a Sunday night, or early on a Monday morning, she would be untied, kissed on the lips, and patted on the arse. ‘Good Girl,’ he liked to say to her.

Zara left him because it was too much. Apparently not too much to make her stop threatening me.

I pulled up across the road from his place - he hadn’t moved from being a student. A flat, the bottom half of a house, with the front windows blinded out. That was his room. That’s where he had made Zara whine, and cum, and beg, for days on end. Her mix of arousal and fear, her slick cunt and hard nipples, told me there was a lot of unearthed tension inside her regarding this place.

‘Last chance I said,’ before giving her the mouth back.

‘Please.’ The first word she said was used to beg. How fitting.

‘Tell me what you’ll do.’

‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘I won’t say anything. Just… don’t make me cheat on Alex. Not with him.’

‘Why?’ I asked. It was a strange experience - one voice, two emotions. Listening to her was starting to make my - her - head hurt. ‘I’m in your head, Zara. There’s no point in trying to lie.’

‘Because I would stay,’ she admitted.

‘Why?’ I asked again, an odd sort of sadness seeping in, from Zara to me.

Of course, as soon as I asked, I knew. Zara’s mind started to delve into the right thoughts, the right memories.

‘Alex doesn’t care. He just wants a live-in mother he can fuck. Someone who washes up after him, and cooks. The only thing that matters is what he wants - his job, his friends, his life.’

After a moment, I realised that I had no idea which of us said that, nor if there was a difference. The blend between us was getting harder to pull apart.

‘Can we go?’ she asked. I nodded, pulling out and turning the car around, back towards the city. ‘You have those texts. For blackmail.’

I nodded, with her head. ‘I do. And,’ I screenshotted them and sent them to myself - not that she had my number saved. ‘If I need anything, I know who to ask.’

'Alex, if he saw that… ’

‘He’d leave. Would that be bad? If you’re not happy?’

‘He’s jealous,’ Zara said, and memories of the fight drifted back. ‘Even if I leave him, he can neer see that.’

‘And he won’t,’ I said. ‘If you do me a favour.’

~ 4 ~

There was a certain part of me that was upset that I wouldn’t be using Zara’s body to ride that sexual juggernaut Jefferson, even though I knew that it wasn’t to be. I was already sure enough that she wasn’t going to say anything - her relationship with Alex, and the potential that he might go out and fight with this Jefferson guy, it was enough to keep her in check.

Still, the way Zara’s body had been in a state of arousal the whole journey back to the block of flats… it was impossible for either of us to ignore. Plus, the… intimacy of the two of us having spent so long within each other, with her aware of me… it was honestly only rivalled by Martin. I knew Zara in a way only she had before. I knew how her orgasms felt, how her toes curled when Alex bit her shoulder. But, now, I also knew how fear made her stomach squirm, and how anxiety made her chest tighten. Nobody else would ever, could ever know her like that. But I did.

When we pulled up to the flats, I dropped out of her and snapped back into my own body, waking up on the sofa with a stiff neck and a dry mouth. The worst.

So, I fixed myself some tea, and got to researching. Specifically, looking up the shoot locations of Sylvia Wellons’ new film.

The official press releases didn’t tell much - only that they were in the city. Local news had talked about certain streets getting shut down for the rest of the week, and that they should be gone by thursday. Martin’s birthday was friday, but he would have to deal with an early present, in that case. I was fairly sure he wouldn’t complain.

It was tuesday now, so I used the rest of the day to hatch my plan. Tonight, I’d put on one of Sylvia’s films, gauge Martin’s reaction to her; tomorrow, I’d scope out the set, maybe get a feel for where everything was - where her trailer was, that sort of thing.

I knew that if I ‘shared’ with a member of the crew, and just sat inside them for a while, I’d be able to get a good view of where everything was; then, on thursday, I could use that information to ‘take’ Sylvia. Have her fall ill or something like that, and sneak away. Which wouldn’t be easy, but once I was in her I was sure I would know who to call to get an hour away.

An hour that Martin would spend with Sylivia fucking Wellons making him feel like a king.

As I scrolled through information on the film - apparently a sequel to a film that came out fifteen years ago, which is maybe the worst kind of film - my phone buzzed in my pocket - Martin.

‘Hey,’ I said happily as I answered.

‘Phoebe,’ he said, his tone dark and his voice quiet - muted. Like he was worried about being overheard. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Yes,’ I said nervously. ‘Why? Shouldn’t I be?’

He sighed, relieved. ‘I, uh… no, that’s, it’s good. I just…’

‘What?’ I asked, pushing him.

‘It’s Ava,’ he said.

A pause. ‘I thought you couldn’t talk about that stuff,’ I said.

‘I shouldn’t,’ he agreed. ‘But, you already know some of it, and… well, every employee has GPS in their car, and Ava went out for something ‘important’. I checked, on a whim, which - by the way - could get me fired on it’s own-’

‘Martin,’ I said, getting him back on topic.

‘Yes. Sorry. She came to the building. Her car, outside.’

My stomach sank. ‘Right now?’

‘No - she left maybe ten minutes ago. But she was there, Phee.’

‘I’ve been out - I haven’t been here.’

He sighed again, more tension relieving. ‘Okay. Good. Look - I’m going to talk to her, she has no right on going anywhere near where I live, even if the way I found out was a little… dodgy.’

‘Martin,’ I said, before he left. ‘What’s actually going on here?’

‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘But I’m going to stop it.’

And with that ominous message, he hung up, and I was left feeling awfully unsafe all of a sudden.

I got up and locked the flat door, peeking through the peephole briefly. The hallway was empty. I pressed my ear to the wall, and could hear a low-level conversation next door - Alex and Zara. Whether the whole deal with Zara was going to blow up in my face was yet-to-be-seen, but I hoped that the texts I had saved were power enough.

Even if she was unhappy with him anyway.

Part of me wondered why she hadn’t left him, to look for happiness elsewhere. Another part of me already knew the answer - I had found it each time I was inside her, whether I was taking Alex’s cock as Zara came for the fourth time that day, or as she lay in the haze of post-orgasmic bliss that often came afterwards. The sex was good enough to make her forget whatever was worrying her, and regular enough to make the stuff between the sex just a layover. He’d conditioned her so that her natural state was aroused, and when she was cooking, or cleaning, or even working, that was just the bits in between. She was with him because it felt good, enough of the time.

What an odd sort of hell.

Despite Martin’s assertions that everything ‘was fine’, I found myself in a state of worry and anxiety until he came home. I tried to distract myself - I put a film on while I ate a late lunch, made too many cups of tea that went half-finished, and even found myself gazing out of the window, looking for some random people to ‘share’ with.

That was a hobby Martin didn’t think was a good idea. He thought it would only take one person getting suspicious, one person to ‘read’ me back while I was inside their head (if that was even really possible), and it could all be over. Whatever he said, I wasn’t good at listening to him.

In all honesty, I loved using my power. I loved the way it gave me power that I’d gone so long without. With Neil, I had played with letting him ‘use’ me, while I would regularly share with him - using my own body as a mindless cocksleeve. That sexual prowess wasn’t something I’d known before this all happened.

I knew, in my heart of hearts, that that’s why I kept sharing with Zara and Alex. Zara because it felt so good to be railed ruthlessly, cumming on the long, hard cock of a man who looked like something from a Californian surfer’s bodybuilding magazine. Alex, because taking the experience of testosterone balls-slapping-against-clit sex and having it with someone as beautiful, and vocal as Zara scratched an itch I never knew I had.

With Martin, we would regularly swap bodies - we fucked each other in a mind-melding mess of limbs and lips and sex organs. He was getting to be a fan of receiving multiple-orgasms while stuck inside his girlfriend’s head, and I was not going to be the one to dissuade him.

However, with him there was alway romance. Which, of course, isn’t something to be upset about - not at all.

But sometimes I just wanted to crack out an orgasm, without the bells and whistles. Like masturbating in the shower, regardless of having a perfectly satisfying sex life. Everyone did it.

So, that’s how I thought of it. Like masturbating.

And, with nothing else to do and with some tension to release while I waited for Martin to get home - procrastinating on my coursework, of course - I decided to look out the window and see if there were any couples I could lure into a little public fun.

There was a bench across the road, by the smallest imitation of a park - two trees and a few flowers, really. But it was secluded from the road, and my bedroom window was situated so I could just see the people sat at it, past the trees and the building next to it.

Right now, I could see an older gentleman, maybe in his seventies, sat with a paper and a thermos on the floor. I focused, and felt that rush go through me.

Bernard, his name was. He was particularly troubled by a certain clue that had been given in this week’s crossword - something about a celebrity he’d never heard of.

‘How the hell am I supposed to know who that is,’ he mumbled.

He glanced up, and the two of us saw a lovely young thing approaching - clearly just heading to walk past, but Bernard didn’t mind.

She was pretty, if a bit dolled-up. All blonde and girly, with a skirt that didn’t match the season, and high socks that looked like something he remembered his wife wearing the day they met, back when it was proper.

I smiled, and left him to it - only to try something I hadn’t done with anyone except Zara and Alex, once. I jumped from one person to the other, without coming back into myself first.

Lucy, as she was, glowed with a sort-of sexually satisfied warmth.

Her boyfriend Andy and his side-piece Tara had been, only twenty minutes or so ago, taking turns on Lucy’s sloppy cunt in Andy’s bed. She’d lost count of how many times she’d orgasmed, or who had made her shudder and moan.

She guess she was bisexual, now.

I wondered - if only for a moment - if that applied to me, too. Bisexual. I supposed it did.

As she approached Bernard, a naughty thought entered her mind - and, of course, that meant it entered mine.

And I had so much tension to relieve.

‘Hey,’ we said, approaching the old man. He looked up, glancing again at Lucy’s long legs, sliding up her body like he was appreciating some marble statue. A piece of art, indeed.

‘Afternoon, miss,’ he said.

‘Miss,’ Lucy said, liking the word. She was a flirt all on her own - but I wanted to take her further than that. ‘Having a good one?’ she asked, planting herself on the bench next to him. Bernard sort of shuffled back, but as I placed her hand on his thigh, he paused, frowning at her.

‘A bit stuck on the crossword, actually,’ he said, looking away.

I trailed Lucy’s fingertips along the seam of his corduroys, not bothering to look up and around. I wondered if anyone was watching - but then again, they wouldn’t see me, would they.

‘I’m at a bit of a loose end myself,’ she said.

‘Oh?’ he huffed, a nervous look in his eye.

Inside her head, confused and scared and, on a level she likely would never admit, excited, Lucy was trying to slow this down. To pump the brakes a little.

Instead, with her hand I slid further up the inside of Bernard’s leg, and found the soft bulge. Bernard, the sweetheart, gasped, looking down, not making a move. Maybe he was scared it was a prank, or some cruel trick.

Bernard - I wouldn’t do that to you.

With Lucy’s perfectly-manicured nails, I massaged his bulge, keeping eye contact with him for several seconds. He grew, beneath the thick fabric of his corduroys, until I could make out the shape of his aged sex. I stroked him, Lucy’s long fingers trailing the bump of his cockhead, up to his pelvis, when his hand stopped her.

‘What are you doin’, love?’ he asked, a note of legitimate concern in his voice.

I stumbled, not knowing what to say. ‘I just… wanted to let out some tension.’

He frowned at me - at her - and pulled her hand away. ‘You’ve got no business with an old man like me,’ he said. ‘Go on, away with you.’

I was stunned.

It wasn’t rejection - he didn’t not want something to happen. He was just… he thought it was just such a bad idea that it didn’t matter.

I swapped over to Bernard, releasing Lucy from my effects, and just rode his thoughts, not making any impact. Just to watch.

Lucy, in an instant, backed off, pulling her hand up.

‘Sorry,’ she mumbled. ‘I don’t… I don’t know what came over me.’

He patted her shoulder. ‘Seems like you’re working through something, to come up to a stranger like that. Best be careful, love. A lot of guys… some wouldn’t have stopped you.’

Lucy nodded, understandably shaken.

And, as I saw the tears in her eyes start to bubble up, I thought of how happy she had been when I stepped in. She was riding a orgasmic morning, and Bernard had enjoyed a simple day to himself, and I had barged in, letting myself into their heads, doing whatever I wanted.

I blinked, and the room came back to me. Out the window, I watched as Lucy left, quickly and with her head down, while Bernard packed up his paper and lunch, and went the other way.

With a pit in my stomach, and a newfound doubt about what it was I was doing to people, I pulled the curtain shut, and wiped my own tears away.

~ 5 ~

The sound of Martin’s key turning in the flat door was the sweetest sound I’d heard in ages.

After what had happened - what I did - with Bernard and Lucy in the small park, I’d retreated into the bedroom for a pitiful cry and a nap, like some idiot. By the time I woke up to the sound of him coming in, it was almost six.

‘Hey,’ he called through the doorway as he locked up behind him. ‘Phoebe?’

‘Mrrrrrr,’ I said, the pillow in my face halting my voice.

‘You okay?’ he asked, peering at me through the door. ‘You’re not ill, are you?’

I shook my head. ‘No. I just… I was testing today. You know, random people. Something went wrong.’

He tensed. ‘Someone knows?’

‘No,’ I said, quickly. ‘No, nothing like that. I just… I very quickly ruined two people’s day. And I just… I thought that this power, whatever it was, that it was a gift. That I had control over things, and I could use it to make things better. But I haven’t. I made things worse. For them, and for you.’

He stepped into the room, taking his tie off as he did - and looking annoyingly handsome in the process. What is it about guys stripping out of a suit that just looks so damn good?!

Sitting on the bed behind me, he trailed his hand on my shoulder. ‘You haven’t made anything worse for me, Phee.’

‘Yeah?’ I said, rolling to see him looming over me. His shirt was slightly apart at the neck, and the part of me that wasn’t having a break-down in that moment wanted to jump on him. ‘What about Ava, and all of that. That’s because of me.’

‘That’s because of me,’ he corrected. ‘I was part of that team, Phoebe. And, above me, there was the benefactor. Now, there’s Shemmtech, which Ava represents - and nothing there is your fault. You’re just… wrapped up in it all. Trying to find your way.’

‘Find my way,’ I repeated. The words tasted strange in my mouth. ‘I don’t know who I am. What this… power is supposed to mean. Am I a target? A freak? A superhero?’

Lightly, ever so gently, Martin kissed me on the forehead. ‘You’re the woman I love. Anything besides that is irrelevant to me.’

I sighed. ‘Talk to me about work. Change the subject, please.’

Martin settled in the bed next to me, and I heard him kick his shoes off. ‘What’s to tell?’ I snorted in response, and he laughed back. ‘Fair enough. You want the full low-down?’

‘Yes, please.’

'Shemmtech bought all of the old medical equipment from when the benefactors scampered away. They got my name, and brought me in, threatening to give me to the police - which is an empty threat, by the way. Without me, they don’t have any way to reverse engineer the serum.

‘Which is what they’re trying to do. They had three vials of the liquid, and they’ve been working on breaking it down, figuring out what it’s made of, and how to make it. They’ve started trials on mice, which is about as productive as you think. They all keep dying.’

‘The mice?’

‘Yeah.’

‘That’s horrible.’

Martin stroked my arm. ‘It is. But it’s better than people dying. And, last time, people did die. This company is a lot more above-board, which means they’re staying compliant to the law in terms of animal testing - staying well away from human testing. For now. It gives me a lot of time.’

‘To do what? I don’t want you getting hurt.’

He shook his head. ‘Nothing dangerous. It’s like I told you - I’m stopping them from the inside out. Small things. Spoiling samples, deleting files so they look like an intern misfiled them.’

‘And the blocker?’

Martin sighed, and even in the dark I could see the frown on his face - the way his soft features hardened as much as they could. It made him look sad.

‘I… I started working on a sample of your blood,’ he said.

That was new information.

‘…my blood?’

Martin nodded. ‘Yeah, I know. I know, I crossed a line, but… but they had the best facility in the world for this - they’re literally custom-building an entire wing specifically to look at how this whole process works, so they can control it.’

‘And you gave them my blood.’

‘Gave? God, no. No, I took a small sample, from a nosebleed you had like, three months ago - remember?’

I did - right as he left, he helped me wipe up some of the blood in the sink. ‘Oh my god.’

‘I took that, and used the equipment Shemmtech put together - I think that’s when Ava started getting suspicious of me. But, what I told her is the truth. I wanted to develop a counter-measure. A blocker.’

‘Before they’d even managed to do… whatever it is I can do?’

He paused. ‘Yes. I know, I crossed a line using your blood, but I did it so that they would never be able to do what they wanted to - even if they were successful, my plan was to give the patient the blocker before any subsequent tests went ahead. They’d write it off as a failure, and that would be that.’

I nodded. ‘Sabotage.’

‘Exactly,’ he said. ‘I’m not exactly proud of my actions, but I did it to keep you safe, and stop them from weaponising transferable consciousness. Like you said, it could, in the wrong hands, ruin lives.’

I nodded, trying to understand.

‘I’m going to make dinner,’ he said softly, giving me space. ‘Pasta with sausage and red sauce - all my own recipe. That sound good?’

‘Yeah,’ I mumbled. ‘And a movie.’

‘Hm?’

‘Sylvia Wellons is in town filming something. I thought we could watch one of hers.’

Martin nodded, getting up and giving me a kiss as he left the room. ‘Sounds lovely.’

Wrapped up on the sofa with one of Martin’s jumpers over me, the warmth of my bowl in my lap, and Martin searching through the selection of films to find one of Sylvia Wellons’ action-packed thrillers, I found myself at a bit of a loose end.

Not long ago, the simple act of using my ability had led to two people’s days being ruined; now I was acting like nothing had happened at all, eating dinner and getting ready to watch a movie. What’s more, the movie was a bit of an underhand tactic to gauge Martin’s reaction to Sylvia, because I was planning on using her body to fuck him tomorrow.

She was still a person, and if today was anything to go by, it was clear now that just because I used my ability for pleasure didn’t mean everybody enjoyed it. Despite what I’d done to Neil, at least I’d known him. I knew the kind of slime-ball he was, and had just reflected that back on him. With Zara and Alex, that had started as a bit of revenge for how shit they made me feel about myself, taking some of their perfect life for myself - of course, it was ever clearer to me that their life was pretty, but by no means perfect.

Just as Martin hit play, and the titles started to roll, I took a bite of his delicious sausage-pasta recipe, giving out an involuntary appreciative moan.

‘God, that’s tasty,’ I said, and he squeezed my knee as he settled in besides me.

‘Happy to hear it.’

I watched as the opening of the film played out - some action sequence in a part of Egypt that was suspiciously removed from any modern technology, despite the main character clearly wearing a full face of make-up. Sylvia’s slick cheekbones filled the screen for a close-up, and the glimmer in her eyes was near hypnotic.

‘She’s gorgeous,’ I said, trying to lead Martin somewhere.

He nodded, slurping up some pasta. ‘Classic movie-star good looks. Bet she looks weird in person, though.’

[xorg]

Out Of Options, Out Of Line

Part - 2

‘You think?’ I asked, sliding my feet under his bum and sitting sideways on the sofa, stealing his heat. ‘I think she’d be just as beautiful in real life.’

He shrugged. ‘I reckon half of it’s movie magic.’ Then, he nudged my knee. ‘Heard she’s in town though - we could try and find out.’

‘Really?’ I asked, my heart rate jumping up. Did he want to try what I had in mind?

He laughed. ‘What, you just walk in and, like, body-swap with her PA or something?’ He was clearly joking, grinning along as he ate his food.

‘Or just swap with her,’ I said, rubbing my knee against his side. ‘Wouldn’t you like a little ride with Sylvia Wellons?’

He gave me a bit of side-eye. ‘Careful,’ he said.

‘Of what?’

‘Of getting my hopes up. Jesus, could you imagine.’ I sat up a little, and looked at him until he noticed, looking back at me. ‘What?’

‘I know where they’re filming. I was thinking… as an early birthday present, I might… you know. Take her. Then give you a night of worship as the most fuckable face in Hollywood.’

He just looked at me for a second. ‘You’re not joking, are you.’

‘If you don’t want to - I think I could forgive myself for taking her, but if you weren’t into it, I wouldn’t do it.’

‘You would use your power… for that?’

I shrugged. ‘We talked about this - I’m not going to be a superhero or anything, but that doesn’t mean I should never use it. Just because I don’t want the responsibility of the world on my back doesn’t mean I’ve signed off.’

He nodded, understanding. ‘Sure, but… you used your power on your boss, didn’t you. Neil. And on Zara, and Alex. And those two strangers, today.’

I nodded. ‘That’s pretty much been it, aside from some other strangers - nothing major, just stretching the muscle. But doing this would be different,’ I said. ‘I would be taking her, for you. Someone rich, and powerful and beautiful… I could turn her into your sex toy.’

He looked at me, and I noted a look of fear in his eye. Just a small amount.

‘It’s wrong,’ he said.

I agreed. ‘Naughty,’ I said, taking a bite of his pasta. ‘But nothing anyone would get upset about - she’d just have a weird night of sex with strangers. For her, she’d probably write it off as a bad trip - God knows what drugs she’s on to stay that skinny.’

‘One night,’ he said. ‘That’s all it would be.’

I nodded. ‘Just for your birthday. An indulgence.’

He leaned forwards, close enough to kiss me, but paused at my lips. I felt my heart jump. ‘I really do love you, y’know.’

Then, as I felt my heart melt, he gave me the lightest kiss. Then another. A third, slightly more passionate, made me put my plate on the small table beside us.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.

We both jumped in response, the sound of the door making us jerk apart.

‘Shat myself,’ Martin joked before sitting up. ‘I’ll have a look.’ On his way, he paused the film on a shot of some explosion, where half a building was ripped apart using CGI. I had no idea what was going on, but it all looked very exciting.

Martin answered the door to Zara, looking a little skittish.

‘Hey - is Phoebe here?’ she asked quickly, poking her head in. ‘Hey! Can I ask you something?’ She glanced to Martin. ‘Privately?’

He looked to me, and I stood. As he passed me, heading back into the living room area, our hands brushed - a small show of support. That he was there for me.

'What’s up? I asked, slightly suspicious of her, after what had happened.

‘This might sound a bit strange, but can I ask you a favour?’

I invited her in, and we went to the bedroom, so we could shut the door. Martin would likely get the low-down later, but for now it seemed important that she felt secure. Her posture was off - she usually seemed so sure of herself, so proud and tall and statuesque. Now, she was smaller, apologetic.

‘Go on,’ I said, wary.

‘You and Martin… you seem to have, you know, a good relationship. And, after what we were talking about today… me and Alex, we don’t have that. I wanted to run, I wanted to find something better - but he was talking today about how great everything is, and… I just wanted to see what it was like. That there is something better. Like what you have.’

I frowned at her, as we sat at the edge of the bed.

‘What are you asking?’ I asked.

‘I won’t tell anyone, I promise I won’t,’ she said, apologising ahead of what she was going to ask, expecting it to upset me. ‘I wanted… to swap. You’ve been with Alex, as me - with me, whatever. You know what it’s like. Hard, fast, and … good. But it’s not love, is it.’

There was a space between us. A gap, without any kind of bridge. Her hand, itching the side of her leg, was fidgeting, looking for connection.

I took it.

‘You want to see what love’s like,’ I said, understanding it. ‘You want to… to sleep with Martin. As me.’

She looked at me, and her hand squeezed mine. I never thought I would see the vulnerability in Zara so close, but she was baring it to me. ‘It’s a lot to ask,’ she admitted.

‘There are very few opportunities I get,’ I said, ‘where I can use this power for sex and for good. You just have to promise me something.’

She looked at me, wide-eyed and scared to ask.

‘Don’t fall for him.’

Then, I swapped with her.

~ 6 ~

After a few minutes of catching each other up on the night, and what we were up to, and what conversations might need prior knowledge - and a moment where Zara agreed to help me with my idea for tomorrow - we were off.

Into each other’s lives, only a wall apart.

Zara’s body, in this much more casual setting - rather than the adrenaline-and-dopamine filled typical situation I knew her in, was strange to me. She was taller - almost lanky in her proportions. Her hips wanted to swing, and her chest bounced in a way mine couldn’t, each step sending a soft ripple through her.

How is she ever able to concentrate? I wondered as we went to the door, and she, as me, let me out.

‘Thanks,’ I said, as her, a rehearsed note for Martin’s benefit, before I watched Zara close the door on me, sealing her inside my life.

Before she came alone, me and Martin were a hair’s-breadth from abandoning dinner to jump each other, so I wondered if she planned to get straight to it, or if she would want to have the night with him. A simulation of a loving relationship. It was sad, in a way.

And, as I let myself into Zara’s flat with the key in her pocket, I wondered how this night was going to go on the other end.

‘Where’d you head off to?’ Alex called as I went in, pausing at the sight of him. Arse or not, he was a sight to behold.

Wearing nothing but boxers that nicely outlined the natural bulge in his nethers, he walked into the room and came straight to me, noticing my hesitation.

‘Like what you see, babe?’ he asked, his arm sliding around my waist and under the oversized jumper Zara was wearing.

I nodded. ‘I do.’ My breath was slightly hitched, and with a guilty heart I wondered how Martin would feel about this swap - that he was having a romantic movie night-in with Zara, while I was next door getting railed by the body-builder next door.

Maybe he’d be into it. Especially if he fucked Zara. Part of me wanted him to enjoy it, to have fun with her. Then again, we’d said we loved each other - surely that should come with a note of monogamy?

But, as Alex’s lips found mine, and his tongue slipping into my mouth, dragging a pleased ‘hmmm,’ from me, thoughts of Martin started to slip away.

His hand slid down, gripping my left butt cheek greedily, pulling me up into the kiss. I moaned, letting my own hands explore him right back.

Each ridge of his muscles were toned to perfection - not the sort of thing I would want Martin to have, of course, but for a one-night experiment? I was a fan.

I gripped his cock, now semi-erect in his boxer, and he grunted as his other hand went into my hair - thick and luscious as Zara’s was, pulling me off him to look into his eyes as his hand slipped from my butt, up a little, and then under the waistband, his fingers pressing into the soft of my skin.

I groaned, and he smiled with his chiseled face, sliding his fingers round my hip, and all of a sudden they were at my slit - wet and hot and ready for him.

‘You wet slut,’ he growled into my mouth, and I melted a little more for him. As he pushed his digit into me, slipping in easily to Zara’s well-trained cunt, I moaned with her vocal-fried moan, a pornstar-worthy sound that coursed through both of us. With me on his finger, Alex started to finger-fuck me, the sloppy sounds of slick skin against skin in my panties lewd and loud.

‘Fuck,’ I moaned, and he smiled.

‘If you say so.’

With that, he pulled me by hair and pussy towards the wall. Face-first, I was pressed into the door to the flat, fully dressed as he fingered me, stroking his girlfriend’s favourite spots. I could feel an orgams on the way - his palm against my clit and his thick fingertips eagerly teasing the g-spot I had borrowed from time to time in the past.

‘Beg me, slut,’ he ordered.

‘Please,’ I moaned into the door, knowing anyone outside would be getting an earful. ‘Please, daddy.’

I knew that word set him off, and I was right - his hand left my hair, letting my cheek against the door relax a little. I felt him grab the waist of Zara’s trousers, which were somewhat stretchy at the waist, and tug. They slipped down, quickly over my thighs and knees and ankles, the cool of the air like a lover’s breath against my slender borrowed limbs.

‘Shit,’ I moaned when I felt his finger slip from me, before he quickly replaced it - as he squatted behind me and pressed his tongue against my backside.

His hands gripped my hips, holding me in place as he slathered my holes, spreading open my rump with his thumbs as his tongue made love to me; The wet sounds of his attentions, slipping into me and along my most sensitive parts.

‘Oh, shit, yes,’ I moaned into the wood, barely caring if anyone out in the hall heard; maybe one of the cleaners would be out and about, committing my wailing moans to memory for later. Or, perhaps Mrs. Rose, who lived one floor above us, would be on her way down to talk out her bins, and she’d be reminded through my mewls and whimpers echoing around the badly-furbished hallways of some raunchy encounter she had in her younger years. ‘Daddy yes.’

‘Hmmfff,’ he moaned, his lips buzzing into my slightly, until he backed away. ‘Tonight,’ he said. ‘I’m taking that tight little ring.’ His thumb slipped easily into my backdoor, and I gasped - while Phoebe was an anal-virgin, Zara clearly wasn’t. Her hole, slickened by Alex’s talented tongue, made no complaint as it was breached, especially as his middle- and ring-finger pressed into her pussy. The sudden intrusion made me gasp, mixing the unknown throb of my rear with the easy pleasure of Alex’s knuckles against my g-spot, his fingers shifting inside me to make my hips buck and my chest heave.

‘Yeah?’ I managed, gasp as he held my entire sex in one hand; as he stood, he loomed over me, his cock pressing against the back of my thigh as his hot breath met my neck.

‘Like old times,’ he said. ‘You remember?’

I didn’t know. Even in usual circumstances, searching for a specific memory like that, with no time reference, would be difficult; with my mind melting over his fingers, it was impossible. I just nodded. ‘Yes, please yes - fuck me.’

He smiled, his teeth and grin just in my vision as his hand squeezed my neck. He owned me, predatory and powerful. And I kind of loved it.

‘Stay here - don’t move a fucking muscle.’

I nodded, playing into the power fantasy - letting him take charge. Of course, the thought occurred that Zara wanted out of this relationship, and that playing into the power dynamic she hated might not be sensible - but in that moment, I was too deliriously horny to think straight.

Instead, as my cheek pressed into the wood of the door, and I felt the soft, rickling drip of arousal making its way down my leg, I wondered how it would feel to be fucked in the arse without having to lose my ‘anal virginity’. I wouldn’t need to go through that first painful encounter I’d read about, or seen fetishized in porn so much as ‘painal’. Instead, I would be treated to anal sex with a body that would take it in stride.

I heard Alex return, and immediately felt his cock slap against the meat of Zara’s butt cheek.

‘Here we go,’ he hummed, and I heard a faint squelch. His fingers generously slathered my pushed-out bottom with lube, his fingers making sure to slip inside, each time making me jolt and gasp at the intrusion.

I peered over my shoulder, and watched as Alex poured lube along the length of his cock, his shiny hand stroking it into his skin until we shared a sort of sheen. He pressed the tip of his manhood, thick and hot, against Zara’s puckered anus, and locked eyes with me.

‘Zara doesn’t usually let me do this,’ he grinned, before gripping my hips and pressing that fat cock-head into me.

My eyes rolled as the sensation filled me - and filling it was. A wholly different set of feelings - the dirtiness inherent to anal sex, the ease of access from all of the lube, the soft groaning from Alex as he-

Wait.

He said ‘Zara’.

He knows.

I looked over my shoulder, fear taking me over as his cock slipped deeper, a physical manifestation of his power - he was within me, poking at parts of me I’d never known before, drawing new pleasures from untouched places; and yet, it was so wrong, and twisted.

He knew I wasn’t Zara, and yet he was happy to fuck me anyway.

‘How did you-’

I began to ask, but his left hand left my hip and closed around my throat, squeezing just enough to make me worry. His other hand wrapped into Zara’s mane of blonde hair, wrapping it around his fist before using it to pull me back onto him, his cock impaling me deeper and deeper.

I couldn’t help the moans that he pushed from me, wordless and breathless.

‘Oh shit, I missed this,’ he moaned as I felt his cock bottom out - his balls pressing pleasantly into my slit, his pelvis cushioned by Zara’s celebrity rump. ‘Do you like it? My cock in your slutty arsehole?’

‘Oh fuck,’ I wheezed, his hand on my neck letting go - moving to my mouth instead. Tugging on my hair, he near enough bent me double. He pushed forwards with his hips, and pulled me back by the hair, until I was looking up at him, while his hand slipped into my hanging-open mouth.

I was gormless - unable to process anything but the horrid pleasure he was awakening in me. Treating me like dirt, while worshipping a part of me no one had even approached. His fingertips hooked behind my bottom teeth, limiting me to inarticulate groans as he pulled back. His cock, slick and strong, slid out of me in an almost uncomfortable fashion, before he pressed back in - slowly and methodical in a way I hadn’t expected from him.

‘Hhhhh-huuuuuuhh-huoohhhh.’ My voice was thoughtless, as he used me, gearing me up to take his cock more forcefully.

‘God, yes,’ Alex mumbled to himself as he ruined me - ruined his girlfriend, fucking her in the way she wouldn’t allow. Fucking her the way that made her want to leave him. Like an animal - like a toy.

Zara hated it. I wasn’t so sure.

Each thrust came faster than the last, feeling deeper and thicker each time. It burned a little - a new sort of heat that betrayed Zara’s apparent rustiness.

I could feel the orgasm, low and heavy, throbbing inside me in rhythm with Alex’s deep, solid fucking - it wasn’t too close to the surface yet, but it was there. Growing inside me with each movement.

I wanted to ask him what he knew - I wanted to know how he knew I wasn’t Zara, and what he was going to do about it. But I couldn’t think. I couldn’t form words - especially not with his hand in my mouth. Each time his cock landed, his skin slapping into me, I moaned and rolled and ebbed on the surface of an orgasm that was building in a new, confusing way. Making anything else matter was… difficult.

‘Shit I missed this,’ Alex moaned as he reamed me. ‘So fucking tight - such a good, slutty hole,’ he moaned into my ear. I groaned back, my tongue dumbly lolling over his fingers. ‘Yessss,’ he moaned. ‘Fuck, I’m gonna fill your fucking guts - do you want that?’

I nodded, pleading, making hopeful noises that surely drifted down the halls and into the ears of strangers.

‘Shit, shit,’ he muttered, getting faster and faster. I hadn’t come yet, and something told me that, even though everything was new and exciting, I wasn’t going to. Not from this - without anything on my clit, or even any vaginal stimulation, apparently anal wasn’t enough to get me off. The more you know.

Eventually, with a hard thrust, Alex released my hair and returned his grip to my hips - my top half sprang forwards and I hit the door as he came, hot and thick, filling me in a way I’d never known. I groaned, the sensation an odd mix of unfamiliar and deliriously exciting, as my fingers clawed at the wood.

Then, without ceremony, Alex pulled out.

I gasped, suddenly feeling empty. ‘Hahhh,’ I whimpered, my left leg shuddering as Alex’s cum dripped from me, splattering on the floor in thick white droplets.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

A moment passed, and I regained a semblance of sense.

‘How did you know?’ I asked, not even looking at him.

Alex, somewhere behind me, laughed. Actually laughed. ‘Why do you give a shit? Clearly whatever you do - and whatever it, I don’t know - you do it to get some of this cock. So, thank me, and fuck off, yeah?’

I was shocked. And annoyed. ‘What?’ I turned to look at him, pulling Zara’s clothing back on, trying to ignore the sensation of hot cum spilling from me as I did so. I pulled her panties up, nestling them in there, and faced him. ‘That’s all you have to say?’

He shrugged. ‘It’s true, isn’t it? You’ve been in her head. Now I understand it, it makes sense. Zara, she’ doesn’t like calling me ‘Daddy’. She does it, sure - but because I make her. You like it, though. I thought it was like a switch in her head, that she was getting into some sort of sub-space, they call it. Submissive. But it’s not her - it’s you.’

I narrowed my eyes at him. ‘What made you understand?’

He shrugged again, but I wasn’t going to let him off. I wasn’t Zara - I wasn’t his to dominate.

‘Alex, you need to tell me now, exactly what happened.’

He sighed, still naked, and dripping cum from his quickly-softening cock. God, even after sex, in the clarity of post-sex awkwardness, he looked amazing. He went to the fridge and pulled himself out a can of something sugary and horrible. ‘An indulgence,’ he said. ‘For special occasions. Not often I get to fuck that arsehole and fill it - time to celebrate.’

‘Alex,’ I said again, and he laughed.

‘Fine. Some red-headed bitch showed up, asking questions about you. Phoebe.’ He said my name. Okay - he really did know. ‘Said you and that Martin were up to something, and if I knew anything to call her. Between that and Zara’s ramblings about waking up in your flat mid-way through doing the nasty, and all her obsessive rants about feeling you inside her head… I thought she was mad. But she’s not, is she.’

I just stared at him, not answering. Ava had been here - not to see me, or Martin. To speak with the neighbours, while I was out with Zara. Fuck.

‘You see,’ he said, approaching. I stepped back, and soon found myself pressed into the door again. He stepped right up to me - naked and sweating and handsome as ever. ‘I didn’t tell her anything. But she left her number. And I’m thinking… you owe me.’

‘Owe you?’

He nodded, as his hand went to my - Zara’s - face. I felt an odd shudder go through me. A hateful sort of dread, interwoven with shameful desire. I knew what this was, but I didn’t want to admit it.

‘Every time you let me fuck that perfect little hole - of Zara’s, or any other stunner you stumble on - you win one week before I call that number. Tell that red-head about your bad habit of body snatching.’

I scowled at him. ‘You wouldn’t.’

‘Of course not. Not for the week, at least,’ he said, his hand sliding down and patting my butt.

No.

NO.

I wasn’t taking this.

I wasn’t going to let him fucking blackmail me.

I had to do something. Scare him. Take back control.

So, with a grunt, and some long-forgotten heat and pain…

~ 7 ~

I took him.

Zara’s body, before me, dropped, and with Alex’s strong arms I caught her, pressing his thoughts down, crushing them beneath my own.

‘Who’s in control now?’ I asked the air, feeling him roiling. Trapped within.

I pulled Zara’s form to the sofa, laying her back, and waiting for her to wake up. For her mind to spring back into her body, as it always does.

Only she didn’t. It didn’t. Nothing happened - she was empty. The way my body usually would be when I ‘shared’ with someone.

‘This is new,’ I said, feeling Alex’s frenzied anger and confusion settle into defeat. ‘I can leave people empty… that seems dangerous. Unless she’s just asleep.’

I gave Zara’s arm a pat, and stood, going to the bedroom wall I knew to share with my flat’s living room. The plaster through which I had, so often, heard this beautiful unbalanced couple fucking the sense out of each other multiple times a day. I pressed my ear to it, listening.

While it was faint, I could make out the tell-tale squeak of our bed frame, and the soft moans of ‘Phoebe’ as Martin and Zara made love. An odd twist appeared in my stomach - a sort of hypocritical jealousy. I knew, intellectually, that I had literally given Martin to Zara as a gift, for her to feel adoration through me; and, I knew, I had cheated on Martin several times through other bodies, feeling the pleasure of sex in several forms. Hell, until yesterday, I was still my boss’ regular-and-willing under-desk cocksleeve. For me to feel envy wasn’t right. But I felt it anyway.

‘Fuck,’ I whispered as I listened to the quiet, intimate noises, feeling an odd sort of pressure building below. I realised, with some glee, that Alex had grown hard in his boxers from listening to ‘me’ and Martin fucking - even despite his frankly impressive load now seeping from Zara’s backside.

With his hand, I gripped the bulge in his boxers - lewd and satisfyingly thick.

‘You know, Alex,’ I said as I popped the elastic down, Alex’s length drooping away from my pelvis in a half-erect arc. ‘You really seemed to like anal. And you should know - threatening me like that, just to fuck someone… there… I feel like you should feel it.’

Gripping his cock - my cock - and stroking it in smooth, teasing movements to slowly harden it, I moved to the bedroom. I noticed, with a degree of amusement, how strange it was to walk around with a rather large erection bobbing around, but any thought of that ceased as I pulled out some of Alex’s memories to find Zara’s toy drawer.

Quickly grabbing a second bottle of lube they had in the top bedside drawer, and a thick life-size silicone dildo with a suction cup at the bottom, I pulled off the boxers quickly and set myself up on the bed.

I pondered, for a second, the best way to do this, before deciding that the only way this would work the way I wanted to was if Alex could see everything. So, abandoning the bed, I grabbed the toy and the lube and crossed the thin hall to the bathroom.

More than once, I had inhabited both Zara and Alex in here as they pounded it out - the mirror over the sink giving them both ample view of each other’s red, sweaty faces as they brought each other closer and closer to orgasm. It was perfect.

The opposite wall was tiled, which made me smirk - which on Alex’s lips looks slightly smug, or even sinister. Even so, when I wet the base of the phallus beneath the sink, watching the warm water drip lazilly down the thick central vein, I could feel his apprehension building inside our head.

He knew what was coming.

Even so, he was still hard as a rock. But maybe that was me, more than him. Who knew.

I pressed the suction cup to the wall at just below hip-height, watching the way it slightly drooped beneath its own weight. My own appendage, now excited into full-mast, was rigid as my fingers stroked the still-slick flesh, teasing little flutters of pleasure through me as I squeezed the bottle of lube over the silicone tip. Alex’s fingers rubbed the slick, clear fluid into the phallus, his manly hands gripping the cock like a vice. Well-rehearsed and nimble.

Then, with a flutter in my chest rather than my cock, I spurted lube onto the tips of my fingers, and lifted my foot onto the bath, facing the mirror. I locked eyes with myself - treating the screaming, pleading echo of Alex within himself to a generous view as I liberally slathered his own anus with the fluid, slick and thin.

It dribbled down my thigh as I pushed the tip of his forefinger into himself. The breach of his puckered backside was tight, the ring of muscle unpractised in this. Not to worry - he’d get plenty of practice.

‘Oh,’ I moaned, using the gravel in his voice. Whether he wanted to or not, anal was apparently something he thought he had a right to. So, now he was going to get some.

The tip slid in, the slight tickle of hair against my wrist as I played with the tension unusual, but not unwelcome. I hadn’t had anal sex as ‘Phoebe’, but that wasn’t to say I’d never played around. A finger or two, I knew how that felt.

Time to see what a virgin arsehole being split by a rubber cock felt like. I was oddly excited, even if I knew it might hurt. After all, me and Alex were sharing a body right now - this wasn’t just for him. It was for me, too.

I slipped a second tip into myself, steadying my balance with my other hand on the sink, one foot still up on the bath side. Alex’s eyes stared back at me in the mirror, my own pleasure reflected back at me through him. It was… hypnotic.

When I felt like I’d done as much as could be done, I settled back, feeling the silicone cock slip against my slippery arsehole. Despite the fact that Alex had cum, I hadn’t actually felt an orgasm - which meant that I was in a weird state somewhere between desperate to cum and overly sensitive. I… kinda liked it.

Beneath my own cock, I gripped the head of the toy, sliding it against my own length. With a smile, I realised it was almost the exact size of Alex’s cock, and slightly thicker.

‘It’s gonna be just like before,’ I said, sighing as the anticipation coursed through me. ‘Just like what Zara went through.’

Then, I shifted forwards, until the head poked at my pucked. With a gasp, I held the tip in place, and pushed myself back against it.

At the last moment, I remembered to look up into the mirror as the head, slick and malleable, slipped inside.

‘Ha!’ I sighed, the sudden intrusion surprising me in how easy it was - there wasn’t any pain, but a dull ache that, I assumed, was only going to grow as we went further. And, boy, did I plan to. ‘Oh, you’re tight.’

My foot, upon the intrusion, had popped up a little off the floor, and as I settled my heel back down I felt the first half-inch or so of the shaft slowly settle into me. It was a little alien - Zara’s rear had at least some prior knowledge of what to expect, so the physical helped me get over the mental apprehension; now, it was the other way - I knew, mentally, what to expect, but the physical inexperience meant it was all a little slower and needed more care.

I leant forwards, almost bent double, arching Alex’s back the way I usually would only do as Zara. Or, of course, myself.

‘Face down, arse up,’ I said, his low tones making the slutty phrase into some dominant order. We couldn’t be having that - so, to balance it out, I pushed against the sink, pressing another inch of cock into him.

I moaned, his voice uncharacteristically high, as I kept as much eye contact as I could with him. With myself, sure - but with him. Alex, buried within himself and unable to do anything but watch as I fucked him up the arse. Just like he wanted - for me to give him anal. Heh.

‘Little more?’ I asked him, not expecting an answer as I sank back. The dull ache was getting uncomfortable, now, so I tried to offset it by thrusting forwards. As I slid off the wall-mounted toy, Alex’s cock bounced beneath me, and all of that tension roiled a little more. I pushed back again, fucking the toy with Alex’s virgin hole, moaning under my breath as the pleasure started to overshadow the vindictiveness of my actions.

Because, in all honesty, it was starting to feel amazing.

He was so tight, I could feel every ridge. The head of the cock would start to tug at the inside of his opening, which is when I knew to push back, each time getting deeper and further onto him, and each time a low moan escaping me.

‘Fuck,’ I groaned, the bath room echoing me slightly. ‘God, FUCK Alex, you’re tight.’

As I pressed back, the lightest touch of my butt to the tiles on the wall made me hiss - they were cold, and I was sensitive. However, what made me moan and shoot up straight was the sudden wave of pleasure that seemed to glow outwards from me, beneath all of the usual wiring a guy might have.

Standing up, the angle of the cock buried within me shifted, and that ebbing pleasure started again - like my pleasure center just stepped into a warm bath, soaking through me from the inside out.

‘Holy… is that…’

I toyed with the tip of my cock as I shifted, my hips lazily grinding back into the tiles, braving the cold in return for more of that feeling. Before long, I was bouncing backwards into the cock, feeling it hit that spot within me, and stroking my cock in tandem. My fist fucked my length as the toy rubbed against what I knew dully was Alex’s prostate, and before me, in the mirror, a change had occurred.

No longer was Alex the brooding, tall, handsome yet violent dominant thing. He was another slut, fucking his toy slut because he was desperate to cum from being fucked, grinding against the wall and moaning as his orgasm approached.

Thrust, by thrust, by thrust.

‘Fuck, yes,’ I moaned, filling the air between the squelches of my lubed-up hole hitting the silicone balls. ‘God, yes, fuck me.’ Alex’s voice sounded so… pretty. Submissive.

And, inside his head, I could feel that he liked it. More than he wanted to. He’d stopped fighting, riding the pleasure with me as I fucked his prostate and his cock in rhythm, moaning and grinding and swearing.

‘God, yes Daddy fuck me,’ I moaned in his voice. Inside me, I felt him react - but whether it was disgust, or shock, or pleasure I wasn’t sure. It was just an instinctive hiccup. ‘Daddy, fuck me - fuck me with that cock - yes - yes - FUCK, yes, please.’

My cock was under assault as I bounced against the wall, wanking and fucking for my life - like nothing else mattered.

Then, as I was nearing the crest, I let go of his cock and gripped the sink before me, using those impressive arms Alex had to fuck me against the wall harder - harder - HARDER.

Without any further touching, my cock splurted thick white cum - three, four ropes painting the distance between my in-turned feet and the base of the sink. I shook as I buried that cock inside me, rubbing against that spot so deliciously I couldn’t help but whine and moan as I came in waves.

The act of cumming must have been too much, because I felt the suction cup give way, and slip beneath me. With it still inside, I fell arse-first to the floor, wincing as the toy hammered into me from beneath.

‘Shit,’ I whimpered. ‘Alex - I hope you get it now. If I can make you do that - I can make you do anything. Get it?’

I felt him, inside his head, agree. Submit.

‘And, if you ever cross me, I’ll make sure the only way you come is by fucking yourself until your prostate squirts.’ With my fingers, I made a pair of scissors, and mimed cutting off his softening cock. ‘Got it?’

Within me, he submitted.

‘Fantastic,’ I said, before retreating.

I transferred myself to Zara’s body, waking her as though from a deep sleep. She felt the way my own body usually did after I ‘shared’ with someone. Kind of groggy.

I could hear Alex in the bathroom as he started sobbing, and thought little of it. Instead, I stood, and went to the bathroom door.

‘Alex,’ I said, and he shut up. ‘I’m spending the night… elsewhere. Zara sis, too. Clean yourself up, and behave yourself, and no one has to know how much you enjoyed that.’

I didn’t wait for him to say anything, and left.

Next door, I let myself in - it was unlocked, stupidly - and paused as I heard the sounds of moans coming from the bedroom. Right now, Martin was in the middle of a love-making session with ‘Phoebe’; how would he feel about ‘Zara’ crashing it?

Well, only one way to find out.

I sat Zara on the sofa, and pulled away from her, into my own body.

Sharing myself with someone else was an odd feeling, and yet hardly any different from what sharing typically felt like. So, naturally, the first thing I felt was the presence of Martin’s cock inside me as I rode him, his hands on my tits, my thighs on either side of his waist, as he fucked up into me and I bounced on top of him.

A quick scan of memory told me pretty much what I already knew - that Martin and ‘Phoebe’ had gotten busy not long after I left, and it was a pretty typical mix of kissing, fucking, and all around worship. Martin had spent around twenty minutes just going down on ‘me’, which compared to how Alex had treated ‘Zara’, told me she’d hopefully had a good night.

Still, I didn’t want to be left out.

‘Martin,’ I said, using the voice he liked. He looked up at me, eyes almost glimmering. ‘As an early birthday present, I’ve invited Zara here to join. Is that okay?’

He frowned. ‘Join?’

I nodded, feeling Zara’s confusion, then understanding, and then confusion again. ‘In giving you a night to remember.’

He stroked my arms, like he needed to console me. ‘I don’t need anyone else. I love you, Phee.’

I nodded. ‘I know. I love you too. That’s why she’s a gift.’

I slid back into Zara, stripped into nothing but her wet panties, and cracked the door open. I watched myself turn, smiling, and hold her hand out as she slid off Martin, and welcomed me into my own bed.

Together, we gave him a night he’d never forget.

~ 8 ~

The next morning, I awoke as myself in a mess of sticky bedsheets, tangled in a web of equally sticky limbs. Zara’s head was in my lap, her face still slightly wet from my juices, while Martin’s arm had fallen around me. Such a gentleman.

Moving without waking everyone was impossible, so for a few minutes I just… enjoyed the moment. What had happened with Alex was… troubling. But I had put it to rest, using my power for good. Not superhero-good, sure. But I stopped a controlling guy from thinking he was able to just bully everyone into doing what he wanted.

As far as I was concerned, what had happened with Martin and Zara afterwards was my reward. A night of love-making, sensual and careful, with moments of passion and orgasm littered throughout, for each of us.

I’d spent time sucking my own body’s nipples as Martin fucked her from behind, unbeknownst that the woman he fucked wasn’t the woman he loved. As Zara, I had sucked his beautiful cock, licked his neck and sucked his lip, all before riding his cock as ‘Phoebe’ rode his face. I remembered, with a silly smile, that as I’d leant forwards to kiss her, Zara hadn’t hesitated for an instant. For me, I was used to the ‘other’ version of me enough to have gotten over the difference, but Zara was simply more than happy to make out with herself.

As I looked down at her, that messy blonde hair matted in places as it fell over her shoulders and my thigh, her sharp jawline soft in the morning glow, and her sumptuous body open to the air for me to ogle - I couldn’t come up with a reason anyone wouldn’t want to kiss her.

I also knew that, as rude as she had been to me in the past, we had certainly turned a corner. We had a trust, built on shaky foundations, sure, but built all the same. And, now I’d seen what Alex did to her when given the opportunity, and who he was when he thought he had power, I was of firm mind that I was going to help her. Whatever that meant.

Not like a superhero, though. Like a friend.

‘Mmm,’ Zara mumbled, shifting against me. Her eyes opened blearily, and for a moment a look of fear crossed her features. Then, seemingly, she remembered where she was, and looked up at me.

‘Hey,’ I whispered.

‘Hi,’ she said back, unsure. She sat up a little, and saw that Martin was still asleep. ‘Last night was…’ She paused, looking for words, before facing me. A look I hadn’t seen on her before found her face; soft and gentle. ‘Thank you.’

I shrugged. ‘I had fun next door,’ I said. ‘Though, Alex might not be too happy with me.’

Zara snorted, then cast a careful look at Martin, not wanting to wake him. ‘You mean me. Whatever you did, he’ll blame me for it.’

I shook my head. ‘Nah, he knows. Between what he called, your ‘ramblings’-’ Zara’s eyes flicked away then, but her shame was misplaced. ‘-and Martin’s boss poking her nose around, I guess he put it together. Plus, I haven’t been subtle, have I?’

She smiled. ‘I guess not.’

‘Still - I put him right.’

Zara turned her head at me. ‘What did you do to him?’

I shrugged. ‘He wanted anal, so I made him take some. And, I reminded him that I can make him do whatever I want him to. He seemed to get the idea.’

Zara paused, and then an odd laugh seemed to burst from her. Loud enough to disturb Martin, which only made her laugh more - a deep, hearty chortle which made me realise this was the first time I’d ever heard her actually laugh. I’d live next to her for how long? And had repeatedly intruded upon her most intimate moments. Not once had I heard her make this noise of joy.

‘Shit, that’s… it’s what he deserves,’ she said, rubbing her eyes.

Martin sat up, a dazed look in his eyes. I noticed that his gaze flitted to Zara’s bust, before quickly looking away. A man of taste, and courtesy. I had to admire that.

‘Morning,’ I said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. ‘Did you enjoy your first birthday present?’

He laughed. ‘First?’

I nodded. ‘Me and Zara are heading out on a little trip to get your second one.’ I looked to Zara, who didn’t have a clue what I was talking about, but nodded anyway.

‘Right,’ he said. ‘Well, let’s all have some breakfast first. And, maybe, get dressed.’

‘Why?’ Zara asked, her fingertips lazilly trailing up my leg, making me shiver. ‘What’s the rush?’

‘Do - uh - I - you -’ Martin stammered, his eyeline very noticeably NOT looking below Zara’s neck. He looked to me, obviously for support, or maybe even permission, but I didn’t want to give it. He’d make the choice.

‘Well?’ I asked, giving him nothing.

‘Uhh,’ he said, before taking a moment to make the choice. His right arm was already around my shoulders, so he slid it down my back, drawing a contented mewl from me; his left hand found Zara’s calf, stroking her softly until he met her knee. He continued upwards, as his right hand slid around me, finding the swell of my chest and taking it into his palm.

‘Hmm,’ I sighed, as Zara shifted herself around on the bed. The duvet slipped off what little of her it was covering, and she pulled it aside, off of me and Martin. Instinctively, he flinched a little, until he realised that she was settling down at his waist, kissing her way down his chest.

‘She likes you,’ I told him, getting a nervous laugh from him. ‘Tell her how it feels.’

‘So good,’ he moaned as her hair trailed down his hips, her tits gliding along his pelvis, settling either side of his half-chub. ‘Fuck, that’s nice.’

‘You like her tits?’ I asked, and he nodded. ‘Tell her.’

‘Zara, you… your tits are amazing.’

I glanced down, and I could see the red in her face - happy, slightly embarrassed, and loving it. Last night, we were swapped, and so we’d stayed away from saying anything other than the general ‘fuck yes’, but right now we were simply us. Free to do as we wanted.

Martin’s fingers trailed through her hair as I watched her bring him to hardness with her chest, grunting slightly as Martin started to thrust up into the soft mounds.

‘You guys know it’s not my birthday yet, right?’ he smiled, as Zara pushed her elbows together, capturing his cock in the crevasse of her bosom.

‘You’re just such a nice man,’ I sighed into his ear as Zara played with him, lazy and casually. ‘With such a nice cock. I’m lucky to get to fuck it daily. Zara’s making up for lost time. Aren’t you, Zara?’

She looked up at us, and slid down Martin’s legs until his cock was pointing almost straight-up in front of her model-like features. Martin’s legs fell open, and Zara happily settled between his thighs, her fingers finding the base of his length and easing him into her mouth. As he moaned, I leant in and kissed him, tongue on tongue, my fingernails tracing his cheek while Zara bobbed below.

‘Fucking hell,’ he muttered as our kiss broke, and I smiled into his lips.

‘Good morning,’ I smiled. ‘By the way.’

‘Good morning,’ he smiled back, leaning his forehead against me, eye closed and twitching in response to Zara’s expert touch.

‘Morning,’ she quipped, popping off him for a second, before hilting herself, taking his cock into her throat, her lips pushing into the tuft of manscaped hair he kept there. Martin laughed, then gasped as his cock vanished into his neighbour.

‘Shuffle down,’ I told them, and a short moment or rearranging took place. Martin was soon flat on his back, with Zara’s knees on the floor and her torso between his knees. I straddled over Martin’s head, facing Zara and enjoying the view.

‘That’s it,’ I groaned as his tongue slipped against my clit, as I lowered myself down onto him. ‘Taste me, baby.’

My hands on his chest bumped against Zara’s, and she hooked a finger around one of mine in a moment of strange intimacy. It confused me, to an extent, but I made no fuss. Instead I just squeezed it, and pulled her up. She straddled Martin, and pressed his wet cock into her slick sex, moaning inches from my face as she, too, lowered herself onto him.

Our hands still linked, we slowly rode him as Martin’s hands explored our bodies, groping curves and trailing lines. Appreciating each part of us.

When he came, Zara had enough sense to lift off him, quickly shifting away, and I flattened down and took his cum into my mouth - thick and warm and wet. The red, thankful head of his cock throbbed against my tongue until he was spent, and only then did I lift off him. Before I had unseated myself from his face, however, Zara grabbed each side of my head and kissed me, sucking the cum off my tongue and swallowing her share.

‘Holy shit,’ Martin mumbled when I lifted off him, his face soaked with me. ‘That… that was…’

‘Breakfast,’ Zara said, pulling on her jumper from last night, ‘will have to wait - Phoebe said we have somewhere to be?’

I nodded, slightly dazed. ‘Oh… yeah… right. Yes.’

Martin stayed on the bed, watching appreciatively as we dressed, before we slipped out the door - a knot in my stomach and a slick mess in my pants.

‘That was the best fucking night I’ve ever had,’ Zara whispered to me as we left, passing her flat’s door without a second thought to who was inside. ‘And definitely the best fucking morning. But I have no idea what we’re doing. What’s the plan? More of that, I hope?’

I nodded. ‘Sort of. I’m going to use my gift to… to embody Sylvia Wellons.’

Zara stopped dead halfway down the stairs. ‘Fuck off.’

‘And I’m going to ruin Martin with her.’

Zara nodded. ‘Can I join?’

I laughed, and went ahead, stopping at the lobby doors. ‘Can you drive? If I share with her, I won’t be able to drive back.’

She nodded. ‘If I can join.’

‘FINE, yes,’ I said, chipper in a way I’d never managed around Zara before.

‘Hell. Yes,’ she said, pulling out her car keys and beeping her black Mercedes open. God, I wished my car did that - mine still had a manual lock.

We settled into our seats, the possibly-real leather supple under me, and took to the road in a comfortable silence. After all, the evening before, and this morning, had served to use up both of our energy. I was, in all honesty, wiped.

But, the day had a goal, and I was intent on meeting it.

So, I told Zara the plan, and where to take me, and she did. Through the city, to a small office block I knew was being rented out by a subsidiary of the production company making the film. Once there, from the car park, I took a production worker -

• an American guy called Jeremy. Through him, I found out where Sylvia was today - she wasn’t on-shoot, as they were focusing on a scene she wasn’t in.

Literally couldn’t be more perfect.

So, she was in her hotel, which Jeremy didn’t know the name of. So, I skipped to his boss, Andrew - also American, who hated the weather. I stumbled through a meeting while sharing with him, before making an excuse and going to his office to look up her hotel and the room number, all of which he had access to.

‘Carlyle hotel,’ I said, snapping back into myself once I had what I needed. ‘Royal suite, on the top floor.’

‘Right,’ Zara said, starting up the engine and pulling off the curb, heading back towards the city. ‘Get my phone out, I’ll need directions.’

~ 9 ~

With the help of a cleaner named Janice, it was relatively easy to get from the alley behind the Carlyle Hotel up to the penthouse. She had keys for everything, and knew how to avoid other staff and guests.

It was an impressive building - wide, open corridors with that old-style carpeting and decor that stank of ‘old money’; at least it wasn’t one of those uber-modern places, where everything was glass or white. Those places reminded me of airport hotels - completely absent of any personality, in the hopes of being forgotten in the meld of holiday/business travel.

No, this place was memorable. It was a destination in and of itself, near the river and on high ground, giving the guests on the top few floors what I imagined was a phenomenal view of the city.

And, as Janice and I stepped out of the service lift into the corner of Sylvia’s suite, into a little on-site washroom that was accessible to guests but, largely, unused. Janice knew that, while they had the option to clean their own shit, the types who stayed up here tended to prefer just throwing it in the wash hampers and having it taken down stairs, mysteriously washed out-of-sight and returned promptly.

I lifted Janice’s small body up onto her toes so I could peer through the window, and there she was. Obscured slightly by the glass, a half-human shape moving on the sofa as she - as she…

What was she doing?

I jumped from Janice to the ‘shape’ - feeling the all-encompassing shift of personality.

Some people, I’d found, felt more ‘different’ than others. Body shape, personality, age, gender - jumping from one end of a spectrum to the other came with certain adjustments that had to be made, and quickly.

Usually I was jumping from myself into someone, and I had a clear idea of what they looked like before I did so, so it was easy to make those jumps. Going from Zara to Alex, for example, was a little different, but they were both the same age, and fit, and - when I usually did it - in a similar state of arousal.

Jumping from Janice to Sylvia was… more than that. From work-mode, to luxury and boredom. From age-shrunk and joint-strained, to youthful and fit.

When I awoke within her, Sylvia Wellons was lazing in the chaise-longue that rested at the northern corner of this room of the suite. She detested TV, so it was switched off, even though she was facing it; the script was face-down on the table to her left, along with her left heel.

The most immediate change that impacted me, however, was how she was in a seemingly perfect stasis of pleasure. Her slender fingers gripped the back of the furniture, squeezing and relaxing as the tiny pleasures coursed through her celebrity sex.

She let out miniscule moans, tight in her throat, strangled, her right leg up over the side of the chaise-longue, her legs wide open. Her black jumper, oversized and comfortable, would usually have rested below her knees, but was instead hitched up above her hips. Between her slender knees, someone was ‘tending’ to her, kneeling on that expensive rug, kissing and licking and nibbling in the most perfect way.

I was taken aback by the sudden pleasure, that for a moment I didn’t even question it. I just allowed myself to sit in the pleasure alongside her, wondering if this was all celebrities did all day. Rich enough not even to masturbate, but have their assistants - young, pretty things hand-picked for their commitment - masturbate for them. God, what a life.

‘Look at me,’ Sylvia’s signature rasp said, her hand pulling up the assistant’s chin above the horizon of her mons.

The assistant was an eighteen-year-old intern, local, called Marnie. She was ginger, and clearly spent a lot of time ensuring she looked that smart-sort-of-fuckable; sensible make-up matched with luscious red locks and a choker around her neck. As she sat back, I was treated to a look at her cleavage - she was much bigger than either me or Sylvia, who was known for being almost flat.

Sylvia had good taste.

But, I could feel her going to say something, and knew I needed to seize my opportunity. So, I took her, pressing the celebrity into the recesses of her own mind. I was careful, softer with her than I was with most. Still, she registered the loss of control, and the growing anxiety that inevitably brought.

‘I need to meet a friend, outside.’

‘Wh-who? Do you need me there?’

I shook my head. ‘It’s my business. Personal.’

‘But - Ms. Wellons, you said that every part of your life is my bu-’

‘I said,’ I snapped, making her sit back. ‘It’s personal. For the record, you did very well, but I’m out of time.’

I sat up, pulling down the jumper so it covered her famous rump, and ruffled out her hair - glossy and brunette, expertly layered and coloured. A mirror caught my - her - reflection, and it was a sight. Sylvia Fucking Wellons, in casual dress, and yet looking as glamorous as ever.

But, it wasn’t for me to enjoy. This was Martin’s gift, and I had already had a taste. Well, the intern had, anyway.

Heh.

Within a minute, Marnie reappeared, and I realised I’d barely heard her left. Maybe she was an expert at evading my attention, or maybe Sylvia was just so used to ignoring people. Either way, she stood behind me out of the way, and spoke quietly and with intention.

‘Staff are ready to escort you through the working lift, so that you needn’t see any other guests.’

I nodded. ‘Fine,’ I said, trying to upkeep the slightly cold demeanour she had naturally. ‘Lets go. Get my phone.’

Marnie nodded, and grabbed it from a side table somewhere, putting into my hand as I followed her the way Janice had come in - through that little service area, and into the lift.

In Janice, it had seemed natural, even fitting, to use this as a way to get around. In Sylvia, however, it was… odd. Like I was all of sudden out of place; unfamiliar despite having been here minutes ago.

‘This way,’ Marnie said, and I noticed a glint on her chin; Sylvia was easily a foot taller than her, like a supermodel standing next to a diminutive little thing. As we stepped into the lift, with no one else around, I put my thumb to the slickness on her face, wiped it off and, keeping eye contact, sucked it into my mouth. Marnie’s mouth fell slightly open, and I hoped it was a moment she’d remember for a while. If nothing else, I had given her that.

I winked, and looked away, and we rode the rest of the way down in silence.

I realised, perhaps stupidly, that I hadn’t put on any underwear - and that, beneath the thick jumper, Sylvia wasn’t wearing a bra. Or anything else, for that matter. In fact, save for the stylish flat shoes, the jumper was my only current piece of clothing.

As the lift doors slid open, into the back-end of the lobby, a gush of cool wind slipped through me, shocking me as I felt it course through Sylvia’s still-wet lips. Sensitive and unsatisfied, her body was aching for release. And, while I planned to give her it, it wasn’t going to come off the back of a gust of wind.

‘This way, Ms. Wellons,’ Marnie whispered, and I followed her to the rear exit. The door cracked open, and she followed me out onto the back road, where I expected Zara to be waiting, a unconscious me in the passenger seat, ready to whisk me away for a day of birthday-fucking with Martin.

Only, the car wasn’t there.

Zara wasn’t there.

The spot on the road, the small layby between the shoe-makers next door and the staff parking behind it, where she agreed to wait, was empty.

However -

‘That’s my phone,’ I said, almost on instinct, as I saw the white-backed device on a bin bag, right where Zara’s driver window would have been facing.

‘But, I gave you your phone,’ Marnie challenged, even as I left her to grab the thing. On it was a missed call from Martin, then a text saying he’d been ‘called into work’, despite him say he’d take it off.

Then, there was one from Zara.

Z // Alex came, said he’d kill me, injected you and said you wouldn’t know

I realised, with a mix of horror and comfort, that Zara had realised I was in trouble, and threw my phone knowing I would need it. The horror, of course, was that I was apparently in trouble.

I focused, deciding that it would be better for me to jump back than to stay here, stuck.

Opening my eyes to the same roadm the same bins, the same backside of a hotel, made me feel a little woozy.

‘What…’ I muttered, trying to clear my head and try again. Not that I’d ever had to try twice before.

Again, I opened my eyes to the road, the bins, the hotel.

Again.

Again.

Again.

The same place.

I wasn’t going anywhere.

Holding my phone in-hand, I felt the heavy knowledge sit in me. I couldn’t get back to my body. I was stuck.

The phone buzzed in my hand, making me jump out of my stupor. It was ringing - and it was Martin.

‘Hello?’ I asked, answering. ‘Martin?’

‘No,’ came the voice. Female. Confident. ‘But he’s here.’

I paused, looking over my shoulder at Marnie, who was watching me like I was insane. ‘Ava?’ I asked, hesitant.

‘Your neighbour called me this morning,’ she said. ‘He told me… everything. Said you and his girlfriend were in his car, so I invited myself along. When we got to you, thankfully you were sharing, so the blocker Martin had been faithfully working on was easy to administer. Wherever you are, you’ll be able to jump back in an hour or so. When you can, I recommend you do so. Then we’ll talk.’

The line went dead, and I was left in the alley, in a body that wasn’t mine, with no way home.

Well. No way home yet.

As might be obvious, to be continued…

A massive thank you to:

Obi

Marnie_RSF

[xorg]

Out Of Tensions, Out Of Binds

Welcome my lovelies!

This has been in the works for some time, and I hope that the two teasers have helped to build up some anticipation for it! Part Three of Phoebe’s story looks at her getting out of - and then into - a very sticky situation, using the skills she has to do the thing she does best.

As usual, it’s full of sex, secrets and swapping-bodies.

I hope you enjoy - all feedback is appreciated, so leave me a comment, I read them all!

Love, Danni x

All characters are, of course, above 18 years old.

CW; gender swap; mind control; gender play; body swap; questionable consent; group sex; BDSM; adultery;

~ 1 ~

I looked around that alleyway, the face I was wearing not belonging to me but feeling hot and tense as I tried not to let myself cry.

Ava’s words rang through me - the ‘blocker’ Martin had made; did she mean there was something stopping my mind from revisiting my own body? And why would Martin make something like that?

Why would he leave me so… vulnerable?

‘Ms. Wellons?’

It took me a moment for me to realise that the voice was addressing me - to the world, Sylvia Wellons. International superstar. Standing in an alleyway, looking like an idiot, holding a phone so ugly and cheap compared to her perfectly manicured hand it looked like a bad prop.

Then, I remembered who I was right now. I was in a particularly fortunate position, after all - in a position of money.

What I needed, though, was a plan. Ava had said that, in about an hour, I would be able to jump back into myself - so that meant the blocker would last about an hour. Okay. I could work with that.

I turned to Marnie - the adorable, eighteen-year old intern Sylvia had every intention of ruining, and had to dispel some impulses to use the eager little thing as a way to expel some of this tension.

Then, the phone buzzed in my hand, and we both looked down at it.

‘Is everything okay, Ms. Wellons?’ she asked, looking skeptically at the scene around us. I figured there was no use in staying out in the alley - especially not in the kind of body that might pull the public eye - and followed Marnie’s nervous lead back into the hotel.

There was a text on the phone, waiting for me - but not from the same number as the phonecall.

Head Office Basement Stole phone Don’t reply M

It all came out as one, rambling message, but there were a few things I got from it; one, Martin had somehow gotten a phone while being held captive (was he?); two, they were at his company’s HQ basement - which seemed like a strange place to do this sort of thing, but I figured after a moment that, chances are, they didn’t have the chemical facilities anywhere else. It had to be there.

Third, but most importantly, perhaps, was that Martin was okay - and he was on my side.

I let out a shaky breath as I followed Marnie back the way we came.

‘Ms. Wellons?’ Marnie’s voice was quiet as she prompted me again, her concern for her employer kind of endearing. She waited until we were almost back at the room, the journey absent from my memory as I struggled to process what was happening to my life.

I searched the memory of Sylvia Wellons, and found that Marnie was an… eager intern. I thought back to that moment in the lift, on the way down, when I had allowed myself to get all… hot and heavy, thinking I was going to drive back to Martin and fuck him using the body of a superstar. In all honesty, Sylvia’s body was aching for it. I looked at Marnie - those ginger curls pointing my eyeline to her generous chest, her chin where I had wiped something away so soft.

I sucked in a breath, and told myself Martin would be fine for now - I had an hour before I was able to do anything anyway. I had the address - and once I was able to jump, I planned to body-hop all the way there; use my ability to get Martin - and myself - out of there.

It wasn’t much of a plan, but I knew that I was no good until that blocker wore off, and Ava was expecting me back once it did - which meant that was the last thing I should do.

Marnie opened the door for me, back into the luscious apartment, and as soon as I was through, I turned and pinned her against the back of the door.

She chirped, as I loomed over her diminutive form nicely.

‘I need to relieve stress,’ I told her. ‘Do you understand?’

Marnie frowned, and nodded. ‘Yes, Ms. Wellons. What… what do you want me to do?’

I smirked - in all honesty, I just wanted to pass the time, and to get this itch out of me so I could think. Fine, yes, it might have been selfish to fuck at a time like this; but, equally, it was me who was in jeopardy as much as anyone else; surely I could risk my own safety in pursuit of a good orgasm?

My hand went to her choker, as Marnie looked up at me - the awe in her eyes undeniable. Sylvia was beautiful, and world-renowned. Marnie was… no one. A mortal, about to be ravaged by a God.

‘Take everything off except this,’ I told her, stroking the choker. ‘What you were doing earlier - I want that more, okay?’

She hesitated, and I walked away, to the couch that was facing her. I sat, enjoying the fact that Marnie was already pulling off her shirt by the time I turned to face her again. This jumper Sylvia was wearing - and nothing else - left plenty to tease the young intern with.

Marnie was blushing, now, and I felt a sense that usually Sylvia was much more… dismissive of her than this.

I was being kind. Making her feel less replaceable, more wanted. Sylvia, inside my head, wanted to have the intern just eat her slick cunt and make her cum a few times - as was the norm; use the intern until they complained or got boring, and then swap them out. I wanted… more.

I watched with hungry eyes as Marnie kicked off her clothing, clad only in underwear and her choker. She truly was something special - she had on red lingerie that was, I hoped, specially for Sylvia’s eyes. The life these women lived was… unbelievable.

‘Can I lock the doors?’ she asked, and I nodded. Slowly, making sure to give me an excellent view of her swaying arse. She clicked shut the doors to the hallway, and to the service rooms - making sure no more cleaning staff wandered in - before turning and looking at me. She was an adorable mix of sultry and nervous, a glimmer in her eyes that gave away the fact that this hadn’t happened before.

I stood, and approached her, wearing nothing but my jumper - and another person, technically - and stood before her.

‘I said nothing but the choker,’ I told her.

Marnie hesitated. ‘But… you said…’

I frowned, and scoured Sylvia’s memory - and, there, at the first time Sylvia had seduced her redhead intern, there was the instruction - I don’t care about making you feel good - I care about you making me feel good.

Ah. Selfish lover, indeed.

‘Well - tonight, you are going to strip, and you are going to crawl into that bed,’ I nodded towards the open door to the bedroom, and caught Marnie’s eyes following. ‘And I’m going to fuck you - okay?’

She swallowed, and I reached forwards, stroking the small of her back, pulling her into my arms; she whimpered as I kissed her, her hands on my hips as I took her tongue into my mouth, moaning a little as Marnie’s hand found Sylvia’s butt, slipping beneath the hem of the jumper. Her fingers scratched my lightly, and I sighed into her mouth before pulling away.

‘Bed,’ I told her, feeling the powerful nature of Sylvia Wellons - a woman who has the world at her feet - flow through me; I wasn’t usually so dominant. In fact, I often quite like to be taken - like when I had used my boss’ body to fuck my own throat, raping my own lifeless body with his cock - God, that was good.

But, equally, in that situation, I was also the one taking advantage of myself; maybe I enjoyed being in charge more than I knew…

Either way, as Marnie dropped the few strands of deep red lingerie on the living room floor and began to make her way through to the bedroom, I had almost managed to forget about Martin, and Ava, and the blocker that was stopping me from being in my own body right now.

Almost.

I followed her in, taking a moment to take in how decadent the room was; the bed was thick, dark wood, and looked old; the window was tall and rounded at the top, with thin curtains pulled over, letting a golden light spill over everything whilst keeping out prying eyes. The carpet beneath my feet was so fucking soft, and the furnishings were as equally tasteful and non-intrusive as the rest of the hotel suite had been.

And, on the clean-as-porcelain bedsheets, was the 18-year-old intern, laying on her back, watching me from the comfort of the thick goose-feather pillows beneath her sunset locks.

I approached slowly, pulling the jumper up over my hips, feeling the cool air meet my sex - Sylvia’s sex; there was a wetness between my thighs that was driving the situation, now, and I could feel Sylvia within my head admitting that, even if I let her take over right at that second, she wouldn’t stop either.

As I met the edge of the bed, I let the jumper drop, and poked at Marnie’s knees, high up. ‘Open,’ I whispered, and she gave a small whimper while she obeyed, revealing herself to me. Her pussy was, in a word, adorable - almost clean-shaved except for a slip of a red landing strip; her lips were pink and slick, her arousal likely stemming from making her famous boss cum on her tongue less than half an hour ago.

But, this was her turn.

As her knees opened, I climbed onto the bed, feeling like a leopard over its prey - feral and hungry. I climbed over her, slowly, letting my jumped stroke her sex, her belly, as I came up to her face.

Her eyes, lidded and hungry, tried to focus on mine as I loomed over her; my hands over her shoulders, my hips pressing into the backs of her thighs, her legs coming up as her hands snaked around my neck.

‘Oh, wow,’ she mumbled as I kissed her neck. For some reason, there was significant gratification in treating this teenage intern to the star treatment - pampering and pleasuring her in ways thousands would kill for.

I came up her neck, lips softly smooching her fair skin, before finding her own lips - soft and smartly made-up, she kissed back. Then, tongues slipped against tongues, as our hands became more brave in their exploration.

Beneath me, her tits pressed into the fabric of my jumper, and she whined in annoyance at the lack of contact - and I figured that I was giving her the star treatment; why stop there? So, I sat up, breaking the kiss - which earned me a soft whine from her lips - and looked down at her.

I had a moment of clarity, then, that I was wearing someone else in that moment. Not just Sylvia’s body - and not just her sex drive. This was a relationship that I was taking to a new level for her. As I pulled the jumper up and over my head, throwing it to one side without a second thought, I watched Marnie’s eyes focus on Sylvia’s tits.

I looked down, too, honestly interested to see the body of a superstar; she was near-flat, but the curve of her breasts was perfect. A god-given hand hold for some lucky teenage lesbian to hold onto - which Marnie did. Her hands began to explore upwards, sliding over my skin with fleeting touches, settling on each of those mounds like they were made of gold.

Her hands squeezed, and pawed, and slid over me, making me groan as she sat up, her face going to the left tit - in a moment, my - Sylvia’s - nipple was being serenaded by her talented tongue, and I was cradling her head as she suckled her beautiful boss’s pert, near-flat chest.

‘Stop,’ I snapped, after I’d had my fill, and Marnie pulled away. I looked down at her soft face, those big eyes peering up at me, and my heart could have melted.

Could have - if it wasn’t actually Sylvia’s Sylvia’s heart wanted to beat a little faster.

‘Down,’ I told her, and again she obeyed, lying back. Her chest, far larger than Sylvia’s offering, bounced in that gorgeous way only a heavy chest could, and I leaned forwards to show my appreciation.

As Martin, I had more than once played with my tits - he seemed to love how sensitive they were when he was inside me; I wasn’t as keen, but that wasn’t for a lack of enjoyment. I just always figured there was something better a mouth could be doing.

As I used my learned skills on Marnie, however, her noises of appreciation - those gasps and moans and wilting 'Ms. Wellons’es - could have kept my lips on her hard, pink buds for hours.

Slowly, and giving attention to each of her creases and curves, I kissed my way down her chest, the soft of her belly, until my chin was tickled by that pretty landing strip. Beneath me, Marnie moaned and writhed, messing the bed sheets as my tongue found her clit, tasting her wet, eager sex for the first time.

It was Sylvia’s first time, too - I could feel her, inside my head, reeling from being so giving, but equally unable to deny how good the intern tasted. I had a feeling today would not be the last time something like this would happen.

Her first orgasm surprised me - the tension of the tryst obviously bubbling beneath her in ways I hadn’t expected. She groaned, gripping the duvet in small fists, and I felt her thighs close around my head as she shuddered uncontrollably.

‘Fuck! FUCK!’ she screamed, before burying her face in the pillows. I pulled up, feeling her wetness drip from my nose to my chin, as she shuddered into the bedding, turning until she was almost entirely face-down.

‘I’ve… I’ve never been…’ she whimpered, her senses coming back to her. ‘No one has ever done that to me.’ Once she managed the words, her meaning came through.

She was a virgin. Or, at least, an orgasm virgin.

Me and Sylvia - together, in tandem - knew that this couldn’t stop know, then. We had to keep going. To give Marnie the best ‘first’ she could possibly have. After all, a young slut like this being fucked by Sylvia Wellons couldn’t possibly be permitted to think of her first orgasm as ‘disappointing’ - or even ‘singular’. No.

And, as soon as I felt comfortable that Sylvia wasn’t going to stop any time soon, I decided to ride that wave of firsts alongside Marnie. I wanted to be eaten to orgasm by one of the most famous women in the world.

Especially if I was almost definitely walking into some life-threatening trap in - oh - about forty minutes.

I focused, and felt that familiar feeling, and-

-and then I was beneath her.

Oh GOD, the aftershocks of that orgasm were still ripping through Marnie, her brain almost fried. Ms. Wellons, who was shifting behind us, feeling our body and stroking the back of our thighs, was so beautiful and powerful and sexy and-

‘AH!’ I moaned as I felt her tongue slide against my cunt, Ms. Wellons’ face burying into our backsides as she held our hips, moaning into our sex.

‘Fuck, you taste good,’ she cooed as her tongue explored us, Marnie’s body unfamiliar with being treated like this.

I searched her memories - her brain was hardly in a position to put up a fight - and found what I had expected.

She wasn’t a virgin, technically, but one semi-drunk night with her ex-boyfriend a month before getting this job was hardly satisfying; she barely remembered it, and he had barely rated it. He dumped her and promptly fucked another girl, plastering his ‘success’ in a load of group chats. That was when Marnie took this job, happy for work to take over her life.

Well, she’d certainly succeeded there.

Predictably, Sylvia barely missed a beat - her tongue got to work on Marnie in the most lewd fashion, following that show-stopping orgasm with a second; Sylvia’s fingers slipped inside me, as I moaned into the bedding, her thumb against my clit while her tongue fought for space. When she leaned back, fucking me and Marnie with her fingers, her hot breath made contact with Marnie’s well-and-truly virgin backdoor, and I couldn’t help but let out a purr at the thought.

Sylvia, clearly, picked up on it - as less than a second later I felt her soft fingers pulling Marnie’s left cheek as far open as she could, getting access to her untouched pucked. Her lips pecked a route from her thigh up to her tight hole, as I moaned into the pillows and rode her pleasure from peak to peak.

We came another time to Sylvia’s fingers, knowing just how to press the right buttons to have her body squirming, tits and face pressed into the bed, knees holding our backside up for loving inspection.

‘Such a pretty slut,’ Sylvia moaned before her tongue dashed across Marnie’s anus, making us freeze. The sensation was like a crack of lightning, sparking something new inside her inexperienced brain. ‘Oh, you like that?’

‘Yesss…’ I moaned, answering for her - I could feel Marnie struggling to think as everything overloaded her, too much too fast too good.

‘Yes, what?’ she asked, a note of coolness in her tone.

‘Yes, Ms. Wellons,’ I answered, and was quickly rewarded with another slow, loving lick across the backdoor. Her fingers, still embedded within Marnie’s sex, fucked us ruthlessly, thumb circling her clit and finger tips poking into her g-spot on each thrust; ‘Hah! Yes - yess - Ms. Wellons fuck - fuck me - fUCK YES!’

The orgasm crashed through us, the worries and tension of the day dripping out of me like she was wringing a wet washcloth; with shuddering limbs and a shaky breath, I turned over and saw the famous lesbian watching me like a leopard - carnivorous and in charge.

I bit my lip, unable to deny the pure sexual prowess she exuded, and unable to deny the fact that I was all too happy for her to force my legs apart, and to keep going to town on my poor eighteen-year-old, near-virginal pussy.

But, as I looked up at her, she sat back and smirked at me, before standing. She walked, hips-swaying, to a bag in the corner, and by searching through Marnie’s memories I found the contents of that bag made my chest tighten and my breath catch. She unzipped it, pulled out a nine-inch silicon thing with a beautiful curve and a decently shaped head, with a harness at the base.

Me and Marnie watched with bated breath as she pulled the contraption on, the cock looking far too good on her when it was all secured in place, hanging from her hips like a meaty weapon, made for our pleasure specifically.

‘Open,’ she told us as she approached again, and we obeyed as Sylvia knelt on the bed, between our knees, and positioned the head at our hole; she leaned down, kissing our lips softly as the head poked in, and the sheer stretch of Marnie’s poor sex around the thing told me this was going to be… intense.

‘I’m going to break you in,’ Sylvia told us, accurately spotting Marnie’s level of expertise. ‘Would you like that?’

I swallowed. ‘Yes, Ms. Wellons.’

~ 2 ~

By the time she was done with me, Marnie was well and truly no longer a virgin. Almost a full half-hour of Sylvia’s hand on her throat, hips slapping against hips, pussy stretched and lips meeting in hungry kisses.

The seventh - or eighth - orgasm had Marnie just about pass out, with me inside her, so I made the choice to jump back to Sylvia, who simply held still for a moment or two and waited for the poor redhead to wake up, before starting again.

It was… gratifying, fucking the intern until her eyes rolled, her mouth fell open in a slack scream, her hands gripping bedding and scratching lovingly at Sylvia’s legs as she was pummelled into a new way of thinking. Or, of not thinking.

Either way, it was better for me to be inside Sylvia after that, as I needed to keep my wits about me - the hour was almost up, and I needed to have a way to get to the building Martin had told me about. There were a few problems with the ‘plan’ I had come up with, of course - starting with the fact that, if I was going to body-hop from here to the secret bunker of the HQ he’d talked about, I wouldn’t be able to take the phone with me. I would be going in blind, and alone.

It also would mean that I’d have no way of knowing if avan had succeeded at doing anything. I had to assume she wanted me to steal the power, and that meant she needed me in the body - otherwise, why go to such lengths to hold me out until she could control me?

Did that even make sense? I supposed, if she didn’t need me in my body, why not just keep giving me the blocker? No, she needed me there, for some reason. Of course, I wasn’t too keen on finding out exactly what that reason was - at least, not yet.

Instead, as Sylvia rocked the thick cock into Marnie’s half-conscious body, I let my consciousness drift, looking for someone else to inhabit.

It was an odd sensation, still being attached, or within, Sylvia, and yet scoping out for people - like I was mist, seeping under a door frame, escaping but not quickly, and in desperate need of having somewhere to go.

Eventually, I found an easy target, and without much hesitation, jumped.

Frank, thirty-nine, divorced.

He was the assistant General Manager of the hotel, and he was busy. Very busy. The sort of bust that makes you go grey at thirty-nine.

At the moment, however, he was outside the room Sylvia and Marnie were occupying, his ear nonchalantly placed to the wall, as Marnie’s teen moans echoed quietly through the plasterboard. With a smile, I pulled him away, adjusting the lesser-then-average bulge in his trousers, and walked him downstairs.

I didn’t need him long - I just wanted to get close enough to the bus stop to jump onto someone moving in the right direction.

‘Frank?’ a voice called, from within one of the rooms. I turned, his instincts overriding my control for a second - in a way that, actually, was kind of impressive - and saw the forty-something cleaner looking at him.

Frank liked her - had for a while; she was Jenny. Also divorced, he hired her because she was experienced and a hard worker, and not at all because she wore a tight top to her interview, and her cleavage was something he was desperate to get a look at every day.

On a whim, I jumped.

Ah - there we go.

Jenny liked him too.

‘Dinner? Tonight?’ I had her ask.

Frank stared at her, dumbfounded. ‘I’m not sure…’ he started.

‘I’m not sure we’re supposed to,’ I let him finish. ‘But yes - I’d love to,’ I added.

She smiled. So did he.

I carried on, feeling a little better now about the day, and pulled my attention back to the task at hand.

Get to Martin.

A bus driver named Bobby was the next target, as he was heading in the right direction. When he started to turn off to the left, instead of right, into the town center-

-I leapt into Jeanie, a 70-year old who’d just gotten off. From her-

-An accountant in the back of an Uber, heading to the same working district Martin went to each day. Then-

-A security guard, working the building across from Shemmtech. Andre, his name was, and he had a stomach ache. Still, on I went-

-to a District Manager called Colin, who was in the car park between the buildings. Through his eyes, I looked at the back of the Shemmtech building - those tall grey blocks of boring grey. Even the windows looked grey.

How could a place this crap be so dark inside?

Next, I flitted to the security guard, a woman named Alice who was dealing with some pretty serious anger issues. The building was just as grey from the inside, with the hallways and carpeting giving off nothing more than a ‘usual business building’ vibe.

I hated it.

It was so… normal. Simple. Unassuming, in that capitalistic way that made you want to run as far as you could, as fast as possible, for fear of being tricked into a lifetime of pensions and meetings.

‘Al?’ a woman asked me, dressed in a similar sort of gear to me. From the tone of her voice, she’d just asked me something, and it took me a moment to scour Alice’s memory and find what it was. Unfortunately, she didn’t seem to remember either.

‘Forget it,’ the woman mumbled before pushing past.

Enough of that, I thought, before shutting my eyes and searching for-

-Martin.

Oh, how I had missed the feeling of him. All masculine and soft at the same time.

I felt his recognition - he knew how it felt when I was inside his head. A flash of fear, relief, all wrapped up in one. Shit was about to get real.

Then I realised where I was, and what was going on.

The room was an observation room - one of four, all in a circle around a central area; I could see the other three one-way mirrors along the other curved walls that formed a sort of prison around a single bound figure, attached to a chair. The bulls-eye in the middle of the trap.

Me.

Phoebe.

I was there, brainless and absent, eyes glazed over and head drooping, wearing only my underwear and tied by the arms and legs to the chair in the center of the room.

Martin’s brain brought up memories I assumed he thought I would need to know - my boy was taking care of me.

Ava, the mastermind behind my entrapment, was in the quadrant - that’s what the four observation rooms were called - opposite us. To the left were Alex and Zara, sort-of prisoners, sort-of collaborators.

There were technicians, colleagues of Martins, in all four of the quadrants, including around me. Us.

In Martin’s mind I could see the truth of the last few weeks - all hidden from me until now, which makes sense. Usually when I was inside him, it was under the guise of him being inside me. Or, we’d swap, which was always fun - and I’d be in him and in him, while he was in me.

Anyway.

Weeks ago, it seemed, Ava had approached Martin under the idea of recreating the serum that made me… me. She wanted to be able to figure out how I was able to do the things I could do - but Martin had only agreed under the warning that no people would be tested on, after the person who participated after me in the original test had died.

I’d never realised - Martin had been there. Injected the serum into that person. Watched them splutter and choke on nothing, their brain burning…

God, he’d never let me see that before.

I pulled away from that memory, not wanting either of us to get upset, and instead tried to focus on the task at hand. Ava approached Martin, he said ‘only under certain circumstances’, and Ava paid him a lot of money.

But, he didn’t want to do it - Martin was the one who made the blocker. Sabotage. He intended to stop Ava with it, if she ever succeeded, or at least to throw off a study or two, making the research unusable. He was trying to stop her.

Instead, she just… powered through. She found the blocker, and hatched a plan to make it work to her advantage. Find me, block me out, and then wait until she had my body to start the physical tests, and then my mind to start the psychological ones.

After all, it wasn’t working - the trials, the tests. None of it worked. They couldn’t replicate the study, even with Martin, who’d been part of the team delivering the first round. They needed me to reverse-engineer the whole deal.

Well, I didn’t want that. Not at all. What a person like Ava would do with a power like mine… I didn’t dare think. After all, I was a pervert, and I’d absolutely crossed the line in doing what I did - but I never meant to hurt anyone.

Martin, at that point, forced a thought into my head, insisting upon it’s image inside my head - Ava had taken the blocker, too. To keep me out, whenever I was coming back; they expected me to jump into my old body, and from there they would block me in. Then, they could figure out whatever they wanted to do with me.

Except…

Martin showed me the memory; Martin took the same blocker serum Ava did. And I was able to jump into him, so…

Oh shit. Ava thinks she’s blocked, but she’s not.

Okay.

Okay, okay, okay.

Time to make a move.

I hopped, next, to Zara - apparently they hadn’t thought to give her the blocker. I stayed in the back of her head, watching from this quadrant as Ava stepped through a doorway to Zara’s right, towards the brainless body I was inhabiting.

‘Any moment now,’ she announced, and I felt a thrill of fear run through Zara. She didn’t want to be here - she wanted to help me. She wanted Alex to die.

One thing at a time.

Instead, inside her, I stepped forwards until we were almost at the glass, looking in on Ava. She was staring at the empty vessel of me, a syringe in her hand, still in a stunning work dress that made her look just annoyingly hot.

Then, a thought appeared in my head. Or Zara’s head.

I’d love to see her get taken down a notch.

I hid a smirk in the back of Zara’s mind, and jumped.

~ 3 ~

When I blinked awake, the light hit me like a train. The straps of the chair were harsh against my wrists, and I could feel the strain of my half-awake mind struggling to wake up.

But I wasn’t staying.

Even as I looked up, I saw the blurry face of Ava, I knew I had to act fast. The syringe in her hand moved towards my arms, and-

-as I sank the syringe into her arm - my own arm - those big doe eyes blinked up at me. It was always interesting, watching my own face make expressions I would never make in the mirror. I supposed, unless you went into acting, there weren’t many situations in which you’d see dawning horror on your own face.

And, as I sank the plunger, and watched Ava’s bound mouth as she tried to yell or scream or whatever else, I felt an odd sort of rush go through me.

She was in my body. Which meant that, whatever I wanted to do to her, I had free range. It was like when I had my boss fuck my own throat - it wasn’t forced if I was forcing myself. The fact that Ava would be inside my body to experience it was just a cherry on the cake.

Then, I felt an unexpected feeling.

A… wetness.

Between my legs. Her legs.

Ava was getting off on this!

The ridiculousness of the situation rolled through me - not only was Ava trapped inside the body she was attempting to use for scientific nonsense, but she was also wet enough to make me think this more than just a scientific venture for her.

‘There we go,’ I said as I pulled back, realising that, while I suddenly had all of the power, I needed to watch my step.

Shortly afterwards, a woman in a white plastic-y suit came out of the last quadrant, wheeling in behind her some sort of apparatus, covered in tubes and pumps. In the echoes of Ava’s mind, the physical shape of some of her memories presented to me.

This was how she was going to take my blood.

All of it.

Plus, brain fluid, spinal fluid… fuck, she was going to drain me. Wring me out like a sponge.

‘Stop,’ I told the woman, and she paused, looking up at me. ‘I’ll do it. Everybody out.’

She looked at me, frowning. ‘Ms-’

‘NOW!’ I yelled, and she straightened, obeying quickly - she put the needles down on the tray atop the pumps and tubes, and turned heel. ‘Get the civilians out - and everybody should be gone in the next thirty seconds. I can’t trust ANY of you!’

I listened to the scuttling and moving of people in coats, and after a while I felt like there was quiet.

‘Martin?’ I asked, and thankfully he’d seen what was happening, and had stayed; he stepped out of the doorway with a hopeful look on his face, and his hands in his pockets. Even if he knew it was me, it was still Ava’s body - Ava’s face. I could imagine that would be… disconcerting.

‘Phoebe,’ he said in a sigh. ‘God, I thought it was over.’

I gave a laugh, and ran to him, pulling him into a hug. The feeling of his hands around me was… everything.

‘Me, too,’ I mumbled, not used to being taller than him; Ava was beautiful, and busty. Martin had to pull himself from the generous chest of his superior before looking at the ‘Phoebe’ strapped down and gagged.

‘That’s Ava?’ he asked.

I nodded. ‘That it is.’

He gave a nervous smile, before steeling. ‘Prove it,’ he said.

I tried not to be hurt - it made total sense for him not to trust someone with Ava’s face. An irrational part of me wanted to tell him off - what do you mean? Can’t you just tell it’s me?! - but that wasn’t fair. He’d been through a lot. More than he liked me to know.

‘Ask me something,’ I told him. ‘Anything.’

He thought, frowning at me. ‘That day in the cafe, when you told me about your power. We got the bus home - what number was it?’

I paused, confused. ‘We… we didn’t get the bus? It was night, and I got you a taxi.’

At that, Martin’s demeanor softened, and his hand reached out to hold my arm. ‘So - you got rid of everyone else; what now?’

'Now, I said, allowing some less-than-forgivable thoughts to enter my mind. ‘Now I do to her what she was planning on doing to me.’

Martin looked at me, a note of fear in his eyes. ‘What do you mean, Phoebe? She was going to try and copy your ability-’

‘No,’ I said, tapping Ava’s pretty temple. ‘She was hoping that would work; she was fully ready to drain me of pretty much everything, Martin. Brain fluid, spinal fluid - a fucking dissection was on the table.’

I looked down at her, inside my body, bound and terrified.

‘That’s not happening,’ he said, a hardness in his voice.

I laughed. ‘Well, no, of course not. But, you should feel this,’ and, as quickly as I could, I grabbed his hand, hiked up Ava’s smart dress, and pressed his fingers against her sex. The sensation of something rubbing against her sent a warm shiver through me, and Martin yanked back his hand quickly in shock - before realising why I’d done it.

‘Are you… wet?’

‘No - she was like this when I got here,’ I said. ‘She likes this, Martin. She likes the idea of having this power - to use people. So, I figure, if she likes it, she can have it.’

Martin looked from me to her - the Ava in Phoebe’s body. ‘Have what, exactly?’

‘You’re telling me you wouldn’t want to have a go on this?’ I asked, stepping back. Then, with a breath to steady my nerves, and a meeting of eyes between me and Ava, I pulled up the bottom of her smart dress, rolling it up, and pulling it off.

The air was a lot colder without a layer between my skin and the well-ventilated area.

‘Oh,’ Martin said, looking at me - at her. Only then did I really realise that Ava wasn’t just wet as anything - but that the pants Martin’s fingers had slapped against was the only underwear Ava had been wearing.

‘Hah,’ I sighed, as my nipples tightened against the cold air, eye level with Martin. ‘Shit,’ I said, looking at the reflection on the one-way mirror. ‘Ava you keep it tight. Looking good.’

‘Hmph!’ she grunted from beneath the binds, struggling to burst out - but she knew as good as anyone did that there was no chance of that. She could run a company, have access to all the scientific wonders she could get her hands on - there was no way to get around the fact that she was locked in stainless-steel cuffs, and gagged like a pig.

‘What should we do,’ I said, stepping up to Martin, who looked like a deer in headlights. I held his hand, giving him a squeeze. ‘Hey - it’s still me, okay?’

He nodded, and I pulled his hand softly up to Ava’s breast. He let out a shaky sigh, and I sighed as he took to her, rolling the nipple between his fingers, palming the soft of her beautiful tits as Ava, trapped within my own pretty head, was forced to watch.

I stared into her eyes as the horror dawned on her - I was going to let Martin fuck her, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

‘She feels good,’ Martin sighed, and I smiled.

‘You like that?’

‘I do,’ he said. ‘I can’t tell if it’s, like, the rush of fondling my boss, or the fact that I know she isn’t inside that head right now, but… yeah. I like it.’

‘Good,’ I purred, tugging his hand down. His digits slipped down my stomach, making me suck in a breath at the sensation of his fingertips heading south.

‘HRNN! HMPHH!’ Ava complained, watching helplessly as Martin’s fingers dipped into her underwear, feeling the slightly-slick pubic hair she was sporting.

‘God,’ he sighed. ‘You’re so wet.’

‘I am,’ I purred, resting my hands on his face, lovingly holding him as his finger slipped inside, easy and unchallenged. I wondered, for a moment, how many men Ava had fucked, and the answer presented itself happily, her brain now comfortably in ‘sex’ mode.

I bit my lip, as the half-formed memories of cocks filtered through my mind; some thick, some thin; long and short; satisfying, disappointing. She had spent decades riding her way through Saturday nights, through job performance meetings.

Martin’s digit back to fuck me, Ava’s slick pussy eagerly accepting his talented movements, even as we stood awkwardly in this cold room. And it was sort-of awkward - what I would have done for a bed at that point. Hell, even a cushion. Something to kneel on.

Oh, that’s right. I was supposed to be humiliating Ava, and there was nothing she’d hate more than that.

So, I tugged Martin’s hand, his finger slipping out of me, and I sighed with disappointment, before going to the buttons on his shirt.

‘Oh,’ he muttered as Ava’s hands slipped under the material, sliding against his chest lovingly as I undressed him. Fuck, it felt good to touch him again.

I pulled his shirt off him, before dropping to my knees before him; wearing Ava’s face, this must have been a sight for him - her domineering features, so sharp and assertive, now at waist-height, silently begging for her mouth to be filled.

‘Can I suck you?’ I asked, using her voice like it was cream on the dessert - and it worked. Martin’s bulge throbbed beneath his trousers, as my hands travelled down his hips, lightly brushing over the outline of his cock. ‘Please? Sir?’

He smiled down at me. ‘You’re so bad,’ he smirked.

I bit my lip. ‘I promise to be good, sir,’ I whined, pursing my lips, making a doe-eyed face as good as I could manage. ‘I’ll be a good slut for you - I’ll suck your cock, make you cum on my face, let you fuck me however you want, as many times as you want - please, sir, I’ll be so good.’

I popped open his belt, and his bulge immediately tried to escape; I took it in my palm, rubbing him through the fabric a little with Ava’s hand, looking up at him.

‘Do you like me here, on my knees?’

He nodded.

‘You want to fuck your boss, Martin?’

‘Fuck, yes.’

‘You want to make me pay for how bad I’ve been?’

‘Yes…’

‘You want to fuck me until I cum on your cock?’

‘Yes, Ava…’

I smiled, enjoying how his cock throbbed when he thought of it - but, I figured it was time to get to business. So, with a glance to Ava - the real Ava, trapped outside of her body, watching this travesty take place just out of reach - to ensure she could see, I reached into Martin’s boxers, and pulled out his cock. Hard and thick and ready for action, I tugged lightly on him, pulling back the foreskin, before taking the head into my mouth. It was delightfully familiar - the shape, the heat, the strength - but, with Ava’s tongue, there was a new sort of venom to it.

He hated her. He had her beneath him, sucking his cock. With any luck, I would be able to get him to hate-fuck me, take me like a whore, all while Ava watched, unable to do anything but grimace and listen and secretly wish it was her.

Giving her a show, and Martin a treat, I worshipped his cock like a porn star.

I licked from balls to tip, before taking him balls-deep in one thrust; Ava’s apparent lack of a gag reflex was an… interesting sensation, as Martin’s cock vanished into my throat, making us both moan and grunt. Martin wrapped his fist in her hair, thrusting into his bitch boss’s throat as I gagged and spluttered on his length, loving every fucking second.

‘Yes, fuck, yes, take it - take it, Ava, take my fucking cock,’ Martin moaned, using me like a toy - a slutty, middle-aged, gorgeous, business-bitch fuck toy for him to use.

‘Glk-glk-glk-glk’, I responded, choking on his cock as he enjoyed her.

Suddenly, he yanked my head back by the hair, and I gave him the best fuck-me eyes I could manage.

‘Ruin me,’ I told him.

Martin obliged.

~ 4 ~

‘FILL ME! FUCKING FILL ME UP!’

I screamed the words, unable to think of anything else as Ava’s sex-addled mind struggled to hold onto reality. It was… addictive, being in here. The woman was insatiable - the kind of person whose life was so stressful and uptight, and she was so used to having to fight tooth-and-nail to be taken seriously as a professional, rather than as a woman, that when she let loose, fuck did she let loose.

Marin had her pinned against one of the one-way mirrors, and I had the treat of staring into her unkind eyes as they rolled and glazed over.

Martin was ferocious - his disdain for his boss, and his happily pummelling of her wet cunt went happily together, until my tits were leaving sweaty marks on the glass, nipples hard and dragging against the surface.

One of his hands was gripping my neck as he choked her, fucking her ruthlessly in a way I’d never known from him before, his other hand on my hips, holding her in place as he fucked her from behind.

‘Shit-shit-shit,’ he panted, as I could feel how close he was.

And, in a moment of particular cruelty, I made a call.

‘Fuck me like you hate me,’ I told him. Then-

I flitted back to my own body, bound in that chair, arms and legs tied down, mouth gagged, eyes laser-focused on the scene before me. I watched with a mixture of glee, lust and sadism as Ava realised what was happening - her body overloading her brain in that moment, after having grown more and more horny while locked inside me - and, judging by the slickness of my own pussy right now, she was desperate for it - all of a sudden being fucked into the wall.

‘Fuck!’ she screamed, as Martin choked her, holding her in place as she moaned into the glass, breath hot and steamy against the reflective surface, while Martin refused to give her any mercy. ‘Oh God - Nnng! HAHHH!’

I watched as she locked eyes with me in the reflection, before her eyes rolled, her mouth fell open, and she came on Martin’s cock as he hate-fucked her from behind. His hips slapped into her pert buttocks a few more times as she groaned wordlessly into the glass, hating herself almost as much.

‘Yes,’ Martin hissed through gritted teeth as he came, slamming himself deep inside her shuddering backside. ‘Fuck, yes, take my fucking cum…’

Then, after a moment for her to recover, but not enough to let her start speaking, I swapped back-

-turned, and kissed him as deeply as I could manage. Ava’s tongue delved into his mouth as his cum dripped from her used sex, our hands exploring each other as readily and as bravely as we fancied.

‘Thank you,’ I mumbled between kisses. ‘Thank you sir for fucking me so well…’

‘You’re welcome,’ he smiled, pulling away. ‘As… nasty as this is, I can’t help but feel that she deserved it.’

I agreed - and knowing that she would always have that memory, of feeling her cunt being filled with Martin’ cum as she moaned, enjoying each second as he made her orgasm like a slut made it feel all the better.

The bitch definitely deserved it.

‘Do you know how to delete all of the data she has? All of it?’

Martin nodded, quickly turning back to business. ‘I, uh… yes. I can burn the hard-drives - what she was working on was kept on only a few servers, for security purposes. You’re inside her head - are you able to see passwords, things like that?’

I nodded. ‘Easily.’

Martin went to get his trousers, pulling on his underwear sheepishly. ‘Then you can get me in, and I can do the rest from there. What about, you know. Her.’

He nodded to the bound Ava, trapped within the body of Phoebe.

‘I’m not sure,’ I said. ‘I’m sure I can think of something. For now, though, I think I can do a little more damage to her reputation. Let’s get this shit deleted first, though.’ I started to move towards the door, when Martin’s face made me pause. ‘What?’

‘You… you’re not getting dressed?’

I smirked, and shrugged. ‘Like I said - I’m sure her reputation can take a few more hits before I’m done here. She tried to kill me, after all.’ I pushed on the door, and it opened obediently. ‘You coming?’ On that last word, I held eye contact, and felt a little rush go through Ava’s body - fuck, she really was a slut.

Part of me wanted to let Ava back into her own body, so I could force her to experience this with me, but right now there was too much risk for that. First, we had to delete the data. Then, I could have some more fun.

Martin passed me, carefully not taking too much time to look Ava’s nude, sweat-sheened form up and down, and headed into the observation rooms. On his way past, I patted his butt, and he grinned over his shoulder.

Oh, he likes this a lot more than he lets on.

He walked through the quadrant, pressed on the back wall, and the damn thing slid open to reveal the hallway beyond - all white light and linoleum flooring.

‘People will… ask questions,’ he warned.

‘I want them to, but only of her,’ I said. ‘If you don’t want the naked boss trailing after you like a sexy lap dog, tell me now.’

He thought about it for a moment, then quickly jogged back into the circular room, the gagged Phoebe-Ava yelling at him through her forcefully closed mouth. He grabbed the dress I had discarded on the floor, and brought it to me. ‘Who gives a fuck what anyone here thinks - wear this until we’re past the lobby, so you don’ get arrested, but… after this, me and you are using the money Ava paid me to betray you, and we’re finding somewhere far away, deal?’

I nodded. ‘Deal.’

Then, I took his hand, and he led me out into the building,

Through the tight corridors we went, and not a person was to be seen. ‘Where is everyone?’ I asked.

‘You sent everyone who was down here home,’ Martin reminded me. ‘But the servers aren’t down here - you’ll be effectively in public.’

I smiled. ‘Once we’ve found and burned the data or whatever, can you think of anyone who would want to hate-fuck Ava like you did back there?’

A slightly guilty face came over him at that question. ‘I think most of the guys and half of the women in here would ruin her, if given the chance.’

I considered it. ‘Maybe we should send out an email company-wide of Ava getting fucked in the basement, smiling and asking for every employee to come down and give her a go. Then, you can gag her, I’ll swap back to the real me, and we can make a hasty exit.’

As I finished my thought, we stepped into the lift, the metal colder on my bare feet than the linoleum had been.

‘That would be… hot as hell,’ Martin admitted. ‘But first, let’s find those servers.’

He passed me the dress, and I pulled it on.

Still lacking underwear underneath, with my face sloppy with cum, and barefoot, it wasn’t much of a disguise - but it would have to do. As the doors slid open, and Martin walked with me through the lobby, quickly turning away from the public-facing part of the area, through a double-doorway, and out of sight.

Back here, the corridors were actually tighter than they had been in the converted basement-of-torture, and I for a moment wondered how on earth Ava had managed that, before realising that while she spent a decent amount in the basement, there weren’t many excuses for her to come down to the servers, which meant she couldn’t give a shit about the building planning for the techies.

Bitch.

‘This way,’ Martin said, leading me past an open door of technicians - all male - who watched me pass with a question in their eyes. One of them, a little louder than they should have, voiced it when they must have assumed I was out of ear shot, down the corridor.

‘What was on her face?’

I let myself enjoy that as Martin hurriedly opened a doorway with a padlock, and let us in. It was cold - cooled to keep the computers running smoothly, and dark too. A shiver ran up Ava’s spine, and I felt her nipples tighten against the fabric of her dress, and had to suppress the urge to see what Martin was capable of in round two. We’d have plenty of time for that, I knew.

‘Here,’ he said, stopping at the main terminal - a smaller-than-expected screen with thick black wire-organisers sprouting off in every direction behind the desk, into the walls, and then into the rows and rows of data banks around us.

I sat, and searched Ava’s brain for what was needed. In a moment, I had her password, and entered it, before stepping back and letting Martin get to work ruining whatever he could ruin. Because it was Ava’s account, too, there was no alarm to sound, either. Nobody in the building was permitted to know what she was up to, and that included there being effectively no trace of this action - not without a lot of data trawling and weeks worth of auditing information first. By the time this became a problem for Ava, we would be long-gone.

‘Okay,’ he muttered as he tapped away, streams of code pouring down the screen as I watched, unable to take any of it in quick enough to even access Ava’s knowledge of it.

‘Are you good?’ I asked. ‘I have an idea… oh, and we should have a safeword.’

‘Safeword?’ he asked, glancing over his shoulder at me as I pulled the chair to him, letting him sit.

‘So, in an hour or so, you can take the gag out of my mouth, and know it’s me, not Ava.’

‘Won’t you just be able to tell me?’ he asked.

It was a sensible question for anyone assuming I was staying with them to ask. But I wasn’t staying - I had some places to go, people to do, videos to make.

‘I have something to do,’ I said. ‘When you ungag me, I’ll say ‘Martin you sexy bastard’ - got it?’

He smiled, though it was tinged with a hint of confusion. ‘Okay, got it. Just… be safe, okay?’

I nodded, standing, and turned to leave. ‘Martin…’

I realised, as his eyes locked on mine, waiting perfectly patiently for me, that I was about to tell him I loved him. Only, I didn’t want those words to come from this mouth. Ava didn’t get that. I would tell him as me.

‘I’m always safe,’ I said, half-joking, and left before he could challenge me on the fact that this was clearly not what I was going to say at first.

The door slid shut behind me, and I strutted along the corridor like I owned the fucking place. To be fair, the person I was inside did, in fact, own the place. Through fucking-upwards, and genuine ingenuity, as well as a helping of daddy’s money - and some well-off ‘daddies’ helping out, no less - Ava had built this place up from the ground. A hub of biochemistry and, apparently, torture.

Still. She deserved a bit of punishment - more, certainly, than the loveliest man on earth having his way with her pussy. She needed something… harsher.

I turned into that meeting room, finding a few less people than earlier - all still guys within fucking-age - sitting to attention around the conference table. As I stepped in, I turned, locked the door behind me, pulled down the blind, and turned to face them.

‘Anyone in here married?’ I asked. One, the oldest of six guys in there, put his hand up.

‘Me, Mrs-’

‘Ava,’ I corrected him. ‘Good. You, get your phone out and start recording. The rest of you, do you hate me?’

The married guy pulled out his phone, and fiddled with it for a moment, happy for the distraction so he didn’t have to answer the question. The rest didn’t know what to do, or what to say.

So, to give them a little taste, I gripped the bottom of Ava’s dress, and pulled it up and over. The cum still smeared on my features was warm against my cheek as the dress dragged it across me.

Once it was off, I threw the fabric to the floor, presenting Ava’s body to these guys - the five who were going to fuck me - and I could see in their eyes they were absolutely going to fuck me. They drank me in, and I felt a rush go through me, of this totally taboo thing I was doing - giving myself to strangers, daring them to take me however they wanted - only with no chance of consequences.

It was… addictive.

When none of them moved, I decided to take it into my own hands. I stepped up to the closest guy, maybe twenty years old, and turned him in his chair so he was facing me.

‘Be honest. What do you think of me?’

‘I… I don’t-’ he stammered. It was honestly kind of cute.

‘Do you think I’m a bitch? An uptight rich woman who doesn’t feel anything?’ I dropped to my knees before him, and stroked the inside of his thigh - his bulge was impressive. ‘Well, I feel this. And I think I should apologise to you. All of you,’ I added, looking up over the table. There was a moment of silence, when none of them knew what to say.

‘If you want to fuck me - and I do want you to fuck me, I want you to tie me up,’ I ordered, ‘and take turns. Invite people down if you want - let them take out every shitty thing I’ve done to them on my pussy - my face - my arsehole. My body is yours to abuse.’

At that, the guy before me popped open his belt, and pulled out his seven inches of hardening manhood.

‘Good boy,’ I said, before taking it into my mouth, as deep as I could.

~ 5 ~

It took him a minute or two to get into it - but being approached by your boss like that can be unnerving. Once he felt Ava’s tongue lovingly tasting the underside of his cock, though, he seemed to get into it. Hand in my hair, he moaned as he thrust up into my throat, abusing her total lack of a gag reflex to hilt himself in his CEO’s throat. His pubic hair tickled at my nose, and the musk on him was somewhat intoxicating, making me feel dirty. I was this random employee’s cock-warmer, and he loved it almost as much as I did.

After that, the others started to get involved more, too. They pawed at me, Ava’s naked flesh warm to their touch, and I moaned and whined as a finger slipped inside me; wetted by Martin’s cum and Ava’s unending arousal, it slipped into me as the others surrounded me, cocks out, demanding attention.

I sat up with a grin, and swapped to swallowing the long but thin cock of some poor sod in a blue shirt and ill-fitting trousers, who gasped as I hilted him like I was God herself. Maybe to him, I was. Ava liked to think of herself that way, after all.

I stroked two cocks in my hands as they surrounded me, five cocks of varying length, girth, colour, heat. I took turns tasting them all, feeling how they fit in Ava’s mouth, smelling each man’s cologne as they tried to believe this was really happening. All the while, the married man’s camera didn’t falter, and I knew this was likely to cause an issue in his marriage. I probably should have felt worse about that than I did, but it was hard to concentrate.

‘Right,’ one said, with the air of a man tired of waiting, as he hiked me up by the armpits. He lifted me up onto the conference table, on my back, and looked down at me with hunger in his eyes as he rested his cock at Ava’s wet folds, dragging himself across me in a way that drove me wild.

‘You ready, bitch?’ he asked.

‘Yessir,’ I said, as sweetly as I could manage. ‘Let me make it up to you, take it out on mEE-!’

The fat head of his cock slid in, and I saw stars as he thrust himself in deep in one push. His balls rested against my ass as the fabric of his suit trousers slipped against Ava’s inner thighs. He had some facial hair, and wasn’t altogether unattractive, but he was so far beneath the standard that Ava kept herself to that it made it all the more exciting. He wasn’t overweight, but the bit of chub he had made his belly rest against my own as he pulled out, before thrusting in again, fucking me atop the table.

Quickly, another guy came up behind me, at the edge of the table; the two of them worked together to push me forwards, so my head hung back off the table - just at the perfect level to open my lips and accept the fat, red head of his cock. The taste was hot and heavy, and the sound of his groan as he pushed in, settling his balls against Ava’s nose was stunning.

‘Fuck,’ I heard one of them grunt, as a hand grabbed my wrist and led me to grip his cock. I stroked him like an obedient slut, basking in their growing desperation to fuck their awful boss into submission.

‘Oh, she’s so wet,’ moaned the guy fucking me, as he sped up - his cock ploughed into me as his desperation built, each pounding thrust forcing a moan from me, only for that to be lost beneath this guy’s balls.

My nose in his taint, I groaned as I felt his cock throb, as a fat, hot load was shot down my throat. He held there for a moment, hand on my neck as he came into it, sharp thrusts marking his shuddering jolts as he enjoyed the moment. As he pulled back, I spluttered and groaned as his cum trailed from the tip of his cock, painting white lines across my features.

Soon enough, another took his place - a smaller weapon, but just as eager to make its mark. As he got to work, eager hands gripped Ava’s tits, teasing her nipples as I was fucked, surrounded by eager cocks and hungry men.

My cunt was filled with hot cum, and the sensation of being filled with a stranger’s cum sent me over the edge - I came like a slut, moaning around a cock as several hands held me in place on the table, shaking and groaning.

Once he pulled out, I was tugged off the cock in my throat, flipped onto my front, and mounted from behind. A hand in my hair directed me back to swallowing a cock as I was spit-roasted atop the table. The hard top wasn’t kind on Ava’s knees and elbows, but I didn’t care much - I wouldn’t have to live with that pain, after all.

I wouldn’t have to live with any consequences of this.

The third man to cum did so by pulling out of my throat and spraying my face in thick white as I knelt before him - tongue out, eyes closed.

‘Shit,’ he moaned as he left rope after rope all over me, the release this was giving him impossible to describe. ‘Gary, you getting that?’ he asked.

‘All of it,’ the married man replied, his voice a little shaky - giddy, almost. ‘Every fuckin’ thing.’

‘Good,’ I moaned as I was fucked from behind, bouncing back on the pleasantly thick cock currently having it’s go. ‘Make me regret this, boys,’ I told them. ‘Get me fucking pregnant.’

At that, the guy bucking into Ava’s creamy pussy came, filling me even further with hot, thick cum - the serotonin was… overloading me. I’d never been fucked stupid before, but I could feel it happening, now. Like, if I wasn’t careful, I might slip out, and let Ava back in early.

So, between cocks, I sat back and looked at the room - six guys, only one of whom was able to fuck me and hadn’t.

‘Before you go,’ I told him, ‘I want you to tie me up. Nice and tight, to the table - okay?’

He nodded, erection in-hand as they all got to work. The conference table split into smaller segments, and they pulled the two outside sections away. Over the last one, I was pushed, arse-up as I bent over, my holes glistening and ready to be invaded. My face rested on the wood, at a perfect throat-fucking level, and once we were all happy with how everything was arranged, they started pulling off their ties.

My ankles were strapped to the legs of the table, pulled wide and firmly held; my hands were pulled back behind my back, forcing Ava’ tits into the cold of the tabletop. I was tied at the wrists, and again at the elbows, giving me nowhere to go.

‘Perfect,’ I moaned. ‘Oh fuck - yes, boys - perfect.’

They smiled, genuinely happy with themselves. They had turned their CEO into a fuckable work of art, all curves and holes and streaks of white.

‘Now,’ I said, ‘Put my dress under my head, and gag me.’

‘G-gag you?’ one of them asked as another fetched my discarded dress, lifting my chin to slide it beneath my jaw.

‘I’m your toy,’ I said. ‘I give you - and anyone else you invite to come down here - to do what you will with me; just don’t take out the gag. All those nasty words, taken away… doesn’t that sound good?’

I felt a cock, hard and hot, press against my thigh, out of sight, as Gary - the married one - pulled off his tie, and stuffed into my mouth.

A thumb slipped into my cunt, quickly followed by a cockhead. I moaned, eyes rolling as I looked up into Gary’s phone, nodding and whining and moaning as one of them got to work fucking their bitch boss.

‘Give Mark a call - she fired him last week, bet he’d love to have a go on her,’ someone said.

‘Didn’t she deny all the marketing guys raises, too? Get them down here.’

On and on, they listed people Ava had fucked over, as I moaned into Gary’s tie and took the fucking just a little longer.

Then, as I heard the door open, and confused voices ask worried questions, I wondered if this was all about to fall apart.

Then, I heard a zipper unzip, and felt cum splash up my back, as a new cock readied itself at Ava’s wet hole.

‘Who else is coming?’ I heard someone ask.

‘Everyone,’ Gary answered.

Then, as the cock slipped in-

-I swapped back.

It was jarring, being suddenly sat-up, and inside my own body again. It was… slightly uncomfortable, even. Which probably wasn’t a great sign.

The initial unease wore off, however, as I thought about Ava, tied up and gagged and currently getting fucked senseless by the entire company, and felt my own wetness seeping into my trousers - Ava really had been enjoying it.

On a level, I hoped she still was.

I settled there, readjusting to my old body for a while. Old body, I thought, with a guilty laugh. It wasn’t old - it was mine. But, then again, this ability had opened up the world to me. I could be anyone. Make anyone do anything. I hadn’t wanted to be anything great - all of that talk with Martin about being the President had made my stomach turn, all those months ago.

Now, though, having taken a monster who was happy to kill for power, and turned her into a plaything for her abused underlings… there was something cathartic about this. Using my power for good, if you could call it that.

I was more than happy to go back to my quiet life - but I couldn’t ignore this feeling. That I had not only saved myself, but I had done something good.

My mind turned to Zara, and how Alex treated her, and the fact he had betrayed me and brought me here, and likely threatened her in the process. Before the day was up, I was going to do something to fix him, too. To give Zara the justice she deserved.

After a few minutes, the door cracked open behind me, and I heard someone enter.

‘Phoebe?’ Martin’s voice sounded.

I grunted in response, so happy to see him, with these eyes, that I almost started crying on the spot. It was strange, I thought, how being in different bodies, different minds, affected the way I felt towards people. Ava’s mind had made me ruthless - to her own detriment. Phoebe’s mind, my own, made me just want to be held.

Martin pulled down the gag Ava had given me.

‘Martin you sexy bastard,’ I said, half-laughing, and he grinned. With a few button-presses, the binding slid away, and I moaned in relief as I was able to bend my joints for the first time in hours.

‘Get me home,’ I told him, and Martin nodded, helping me up. I cringed a little at the wet spot I left on the seat - a symptom of Ava’s sadistic mind watching herself get fucked silly, and my own body for being a bit of a sex-pest.

‘Can I ask,’ Martin asked as he helped me to the exit. ‘What, exactly, did you do to Ava?’

I shrugged. ‘I gave her what she deserved.’

Martin raised an eyebrow at me as we passed through the doorways, tracing back that route to the lobby. ‘Is that so?’

I nodded. ‘Yup.’

‘Because I got a text a minute ago,’ he said, holding up his phone, saying Come to the Computing Management conference room F3 for some fun; bring a friend.

Attached was a photograph of Ava’s face, cum-slathered and lustful, hooded eyes and wet lips inviting us to join.

Martin looked down at me, and I couldn’t help but smile. ‘Sorry,’ I said.

‘What for?’

‘For, you know. Having sex with others. It’s not fair on you.’

Martin shrugged as we got into the lift. ‘I don’t mind too much - especially when mornings like what happened with Zara happen… another few of those, and you’re forgiven.’

‘Oh?’ I asked, as the doors slid shut. ‘Speaking of Zara…’

~ 6 ~

Pulling up outside the block of flats I’d lived in for so long felt strange. After so long inside other people’s heads - Sylvia, then Ava - those worlds had become so real to me. Their lives felt like they were mine - perhaps to the point where they had started to offset my own life.

Either way, the fact that Alex’s car was parked, clear as day, told me he had come back with her, and he wasn’t afraid any more. Whatever fear I had put in him, Ava had managed to get rid of. Which wouldn’t do.

That wouldn’t do at all.

‘He might get physical,’ Martin said, concern written all over him. His hand on my knee as he parked up, his eyes warm and wide. ‘I… after everything today, I don’t think you should go in. Not as you, anyway.’

I frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I just… I would feel more comfortable if you, you know, used me. My body. So, if anything happens, you’re safe.’

‘I am safe,’ I told him.

‘I know,’ Martin sighed. ‘But… for me? I’ve seen you tied up, blood drawn, trapped and lifeless… I don’t want to see you anything close to that, ever again, do you hear me?’

I nodded. ‘Okay… okay. I understand.’ I knew it would break me to see him like that. If the roles were reversed, I could imagine myself requesting the same thing. ‘You really want me to share with you?’

He nodded. ‘That way, if you jump into him to do anything, I would still be in here, you know?’

‘Okay,’ I said. ‘Martin…’

‘Yeah?’ he asked, looking at me as he unbuckled, turning off the engine.

‘I… I love you.’

His face twitched, and I wondered how it sounded to him - if he’d heard that before, if he had said it to anyone else before. If he knew I hadn’t. If he felt it back.

Instead of an answer, his hand found the back of my head, and he pulled me in for a deep, sensual kiss that made my heart flutter. His fingers fed through my hair, as his lips and tongue devoured mine.

When we pulled apart, I was breathless.

‘I love you too, Phoebe,’ he said, a half-smile on his stupid face. ‘Now - let’s go teach this fucker a lesson, and get back to our life, okay?’

I kissed him again. ‘Fuck yes.’

I watched the now-empty Phoebe fall into the chair, as me and Martin shared his body. Together, in unified thought, we opened the door and locked the car behind us, before looking up at the building before us.

‘We’re moving out after this,’ I said, using his mouth.

‘Agreed,’ he said. Anyone listening in must have thought he was insane.

Together, we buzzed into the building, and scaled those steps, until we could see Alex and Zara’s door.

We listened for a moment, before knocking - but there was no sound inside of voices, or movement. Nothing at all. When we did knock, there was no answer. Not a scuffle, or a hushed shh. We knew their car was outside, but this didn’t actually guarantee anything; Alex could have forced her into an Uber or something; or, maybe Zara had made a run for it, and Alex was chasing her down.

Either idea made my stomach turn a little. Or, Martin’s stomach.

Not knowing what else to do, we went to our flat and let ourselves in, locking the door safely behind us.

‘Should I be myself again?’ I asked as Martin we turned on the kettle, the cogs of his brain whirring like nothing else.

‘Oh? Oh! Yes,’ he said, using the same voice as me. ‘Sorry. Yes - can you jump from here?’

‘See you soon,’ I said, before letting myself slip from him-

-back into my own form.

I sat up in Martin’s car, and cricked my neck, letting out a groan, before going to open the door.

As I did, though, I looked out and saw Alex’s car again - and I could see movement inside.

‘Oh shit,’ I muttered.

I watched, trying to make sense of it - but between the glint of the sun against the glass, and the general haze of looking through the window, I could barely make out who was who.

So, I took a chance.

Zara’s hand slapped at my face as I held her by the throat. I was mid-way through shouting something, but the word was lost as I interrupted Alex’s train of thought.

‘GET THE FUCK OFF ME!’ Zara growled, her voice choked out by my fist, I let go, shaking as the adrenaline shot through me, a sharp drug that scorched through my consciousness all of a sudden.

‘It’s Phoebe,’ I said quickly, letting go, putting my hands up.

Only then did I realise that the hand not holding Zara’s neck was holding a handgun. I froze, it’s presence making my stomach drop, and my heart managed to pick up even further.

I could feel it in Alex’s head. My threat to him… he knew there was no way out of it. No way away from me. Was going to kill Zara, and then himself.

‘What?’ Zara asked, terrified, her back against the window. Her hand fumbled with the handle, and as she fumbled she managed to pull it, letting the door fall open and her fall out.

I didn’t move; I just kept my hands up, the weight of the handgun making me feel sick. Alex’s body was in turmoil - fear, anger, adrenaline, excitement - all of it was burning through him, Through me.

I could feel the panic burning up - giving way to his anger. He was stronger like this, less susceptible to me. He was fighting back, harder than anyone had before.

The pressure - that immutable pressure I had gotten so used to I barely felt it, now it was like a car pressing on my forehead; it was going to break me, and I had no way out except to give in.

But he knew, now. He knew where I was, in my car - he could see the slumped body of Phoebe, just across the way, in Martin’s car. If I dropped out of him, he would shoot there, first, and then-

‘Phoebe?’ Zara asked, making my head turn towards her. She flinched, standing outside of the car, only just in my eyeline. ‘Are you… in control?’

‘I don’t know,’ I said, Alex’ voice straining - his words just beneath mine, struggling up, trying to burst through.

Fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck. If I didn’t do something, anything, he was going to win.

I couldn’t let him win. I couldn’t let him get away with Zara, or with killing himself. No way out.

So, surprising him, myself, and Zara, I moved, getting out of the car; there was a CCTV camera at the building’s entrance, so I went up to it, wearing Alex’ face like a mask that was burning me underneath, and I looked dead into the lense, hoping it was recording.

Then, I shot it.

The BANG was unlike anything I’d heard before; my ears rang, and the flinch almost made me drop the damn thing. I saw people on the pavement turn, some running, some screams as they realised what was going on. Zara, in the car park, just watched - frozen to the spot.

I held the gun up above my head, at the clouds, and shot again.

BANG.

This time, more people reacted. Screams, people running - Zara ran, then, out of the car park and away from me. Away from Alex.

I could feel him inside, trying to get power again, just begging to be released so he could off himself; but instead I waited. I fired a third shot - BANG - into the sky, and waited for the police to arrive. It couldn’t have been more than a minute or two, but it felt like the whole world was weighing on me.

They arrived in flashes of red and blue, their own guns drawn. At their order, I dropped the gun, and someone tackled me to the ground. I felt the gravel dig into my cheek, but the adrenaline was muting everything.

They pulled me up, an elbow digging into my back to keep me moving, as I was dragged away in front of everyone. Once I was in the back of the police van, I looked at the blacked-out window, and saw the reflection of Alex, beaten and crooked-nosed.

‘I think I’ve made my point.’

Then-

-I was back.

I sat up, my own heart catching up to the panic and adrenaline it was expecting, and before I knew it, I was crying.

Just bawling, knees up to my chest, hands in my hair, as the fear and shock and violence of the inside of Alex’s head filtered out of me. The flash of blue lights faded, and I waited a few minutes more before I heard the knock on the window, and looked up to see Martin, like an angel on a rainy day, looking in on me through the glass.

Behind him, holding her arms and shaking like a dog, was Zara, a police officer taking her statement.

The door opened, and Martin held out his hand for me. When an officer looked up at me, her eyes a picture of sympathy, she probably just saw me as a terrified witness. Nothing more. No one would ever know, but me, Martin and Zara. And Alex, of course.

After that, time was a blur. Someone in uniform took my statement, but I just told them I was in my car after me and Martin parked up; he had gone up to the flat, and I was tired and liked to sleep in the car; that I would come up when I was ready. Martin agreed that this was the closest to the truth we needed to tell them, and they saw no problem with it. I told them the shots scared me, and I saw Alex with the gun in the car park shoot up into the air. That I curled up into a ball and hid.

It was a lie, of course. But it was an easy one, to make sure a violent, abusive piece of shit stayed away. For good.

~ 7 ~

‘You never did get that birthday present,’ I mumbled into Martin’s ear. About a week had passed since… everything. Ava had up and quit, recognising she was beat, and used her money to fuck of to America or something; Alex was still under investigation, but we hadn’t learned anything more. Frankly, we’d been happy to switch off from the world for a while, stay in bed, and waste away with each other.

‘I don’t mind,’ he said, kissing my cheek. ‘I’m a very content man.’

‘Hmm,’ I hummed, sliding my leg across him.

The night before, he had made love to me the way a husband does - slowly, with lots of care and attention. I was ready to give him the morning a wife should - slutty, with lots of moans and nibbles.

Not that we were married. But, you know. When you’ve been inside someone’s head as much as me and Martin, those kinds of barriers sort of… melted away.

‘I know you like Sylvia Wellons,’ I told him as I pulled myself up, letting the bedding fall off my shoulders, the morning glint of sunlight casting a yellow hue over our naked bodies. Beneath me, his cock woke up, and I felt his hands fall against my thighs, ready to steady me.

‘I do…’ he said wearily, looking up at me as I bit my lip, making riding motions on him as I felt him grow hard. Soon his length was dragging against my slit, trapped beneath me. ‘Oh wow.’

‘You know,’ I said, leaning down and letting his mouth meet my breasts. Martin began to kiss me, hands exploring my body as I lifted myself up enough for his cock to almost - almost - press into me, before pushing back, feeling him moan in anticipation and playful disappointment. ‘Before everything… happened that day, I went to find Sylvia.’

He looked up at me. ‘You did?’

I nodded. ‘She was… gorgeous. Sexy. She had an intern - Marnie - whose tongue she used as tension relief.’

‘Fuck,’ Martin moaned, though I wasn’t sure if it was because of the story, or because I again almost let him slip into me.

‘I shared with Marnie as we ate her,’ I told him, whispering into his ear. ‘Her cunt was… perfect, Martin. You’re going to love it.’

He blinked. ‘Going to?’

‘She’s back in the city today for filming; I figure that we should take that opportunity while it’s there.’

‘I’m not sure we should, you know, use your power for that,’ he said, trying not to admit how hard it made him.

‘For what?’ I asked, lifting up. Then, as I lowered myself onto his cock, ‘For pleasure?’

‘Hahhhhh,’ he moaned as I settled on him, balls-deep in one long, wet slide. ‘Shit, you feel so good.’

‘So do you,’ I said. ‘But… if you want, I’ll let you compare us.’

He looked at me, frowning. ‘Phoebe, that’s… it’s wrong. Making someone do that.’

‘When I’m in someone,’ I said before-

-swapping to make my point.

‘What I want and what they want are the same thing.’

Martin, now inside me, feeling his own cock fill his slutty hole as he rode me, pressing down and lifting up in lustful movements that betrayed how fucking good it felt.

‘You should have seen her,’ I said. ‘She was… a being of sex and beauty. Otherworldly.’

‘Fuck,’ Martin whimpered as he started to move faster, riding my cock the way he knew felt best. I reached up, gripping his tits in my hands, moving my hips to press into him, meeting those downstrokes as my cock settled inside his slutty pussy with a satisfying squish with each motion.

‘I felt her cum on my face,’ I told him. ‘Her thighs shuddering, that perfect jawline trembling as she orgasmed for me.’ Martin moved faster now, and I met him - our speed building as our own pleasure rose fast and comfortable. ‘Then, I was her - and I used her to fuck her intern, eating her and kissing her and doing everything Sylvia had ever wanted. But do you know what she hasn’t had?’

Martin, his eyes fluttering beneath my eyelids, was barely able to answer as he bounced, fucking himself on his own cock, lost in the scene.

‘She hadn’t had a cock like yours in years,’ I told him. ‘She isn’t gay - she’s bisexual, and no man has lived up to her ideas of ‘worthy’, so instead she takes out her needs on her poor Marnie.’

‘Oh, shit,’ Martin moaned as I pulled him down, using Martin’s own strength to lift my frame, and flip myself under his more muscular build - which mean I was able to fuck him like the slut we were.

My hand on his tit, the other on the bed over his head, I fucked the moaning Martin-Phoebe as though it was the only thing I knew how to do.

Fuck, it was hot, though. And, admittedly, unavoidable narcissistic - watching yourself be pleasured, moaning and begging to cum, and getting off on it was impossible to deny as a self-loving thing to do. But, in those complicated moments, I simply chose to think of it as masturbation with extra steps.

And we were very, very good at it by now.

We kissed, our bodies and minds merging and pounding and writhing and basking, until I felt Martin seize up - the shuddering of my body beneath me, and the half-contained groan that escaped from it, telling me I’d fucked him to orgasm.

Which, promptly, set me off - and, as I filled myself with cum, moaning and grinding and kissing the nape of his neck-

-I shifted back, short of breath, feeling the afterglow of Martin’s orgasm roll through me in waves of delight.

After a moment, Mertin slipped out of me, and kissed me with the sort of sweetness I didn’t expect to follow sex that good, and he sat on the egde of the bed.

‘I still think we don’t need her,’ he said. ‘I’ve got everything I need in this bed.’

THUNK-THUNK-THUNK.

The knock made us both jump; after a quick exchange of glances, Martin stood up and pulled a dressing gown off the back of the bedroom door before heading out. The bedside clock said it was about 10am, so it wasn’t totally unacceptable for anyone to come round - we just didn’t really know anyone, or at least anyone who would come knocking without it being planned.

After a moment, Martin cracked open the bedroom door, and poked his head through.

‘It’s for you,’ he said. The lack of any tension in his voice let me settle a little, and I had to remind myself that there wasn’t anything anyone could do to me that I wouldn’t be able to stop.

I was in charge. I was in charge. I was in charge.

I stood, pulled on a long tee from the clean-washing pile in the corner that really needed to be folded and put away, and a pair of pants I hoped were from the same pile, and peeked out the door. In the living room, milling around rather aimlessly, was Zara. When I saw her, I softened, and nodded to Martin to stay in the bedroom while I talked to her. She was, as usually, looking amazing - in running shorts and a sports bra, with a light jacket-thing on top, and noticeably lacking any sweat. Maybe she was on her way out, or maybe she just knew how good her curves looked in athletic wear.

As the door clicked behind me, Zara turned, her face not giving anything away.

‘Hey,’ I said, rather dumbly.

‘Hi,’ she said, like it wasn’t the word she’d expected to say. ‘Sorry - I’m not… I don’t know what to say.’

I shrugged, and offered a chair to her. ‘Sit?’

She nodded, and settled into an armchair, while I plopped down into the sofa opposite her. I realised, with a note of regret, that this was the spot I used to listen to her and Alex fucking - lying here, on the sofa, getting myself off as he used her. It was also, I realised, the spot Zara had woken up inside my body at one point, before anyone knew what exactly was going on.

‘Seems like a lifetime ago,’ she said, a distance in her eyes. ‘I came by to pick up some of my things. Alex was on the lease, and seeing as he’s going away for a while, I don’t think it’s smart to leave anything in there.’

I shook my head. ‘No, yeah, good idea.’

She paused, looking at me. ‘I just… I don’t know where I’m going, and… and I needed to ask. I need to know. It was you, wasn’t it?’

I nodded.

‘Okay, good,’ she said. ‘In that case - thank you. And, I’m sorry. He showed up with that gun, and told me to drive while you were… while your brain was elsewhere. I don’t even know where he got it.’

I nodded, thinking back to being inside Sylvia, and coming out expecting Zara to take me back to Martin for some fun. That day hadn’t exactly gone to plan.

‘Doesn’t matter now,’ I said, and she smiled in that way which wasn’t really a smile. ‘And, I’m sorry, too. I… took advantage of you. And I villainised you, when you were just trying to get by in the world.’

That was when she perked up, and shook her head. ‘No! No, that’s - that’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about,’ she said. Then, after a pause, she frowned and rubbed her eyes. ‘Sorry. Look, Phoebe - you can go inside people’s heads, yeah?’

I frowned, and didn’t answer - and she didn’t wait for a response.

‘Would you be able to just, like, jump into me, and see it for yourself? I can’t… I don’t think I can say it out loud.’

I waited for some kind of context, but none came, so instead I just-

-jumped.

I could feel it immediately - Zara was horny. Like, the kind of horny that makes you go online and send pictures to people just for the rush of it. The kind of horny that makes you feel bad about yourself. The kind of horny that gets you desperate enough to ask for-

Oh.

Oh!

Zara wasn’t just here to share how she felt - she was here to ask for a favour.

I could feel, inside her pretty head, how Alex had ruined her for so long, using her like a sex-toy, making her cum on his cock like a slut daily, to the point where she barely even recognised that there was anything wrong with him.

Until she’d spent that time with Martin.

Since then, she couldn’t help but feel like she needed something… softer. Something more loving. But, just as insistently, she needed to be fucked. It was a complicated sort of position to be in.

What she had worked out, inside her own head, was a plan that required me to be on board 100%, and it was… quite the ask. Which, most likely, was why she was reluctant to say it out loud.

She wanted to be fucked - just ruined - by Martin, but she knew he was a kind guy; so, she wanted me, Phoebe, to use Martin’s body to fuck her the way I had when I was ‘Alex’. She wanted the best of both worlds. In fact, she couldn’t stop thinking about it since Alex went away.

And it was driving her insane.

‘Oh wow,’ she said, and I wasn’t too sure which of us had said it.

The sound of Martin entering the room made us both turn, to see that he was now fully dressed in a nice shirt and jeans - and Zara noted that he looked good all dressed up. Her memory surfaced of that night I had spent with Alex, and she with Martin, and I found that they had, in fact, had sex - but it wasn’ tfucking. In fact, Zara had revelled in the fact that they had watched a movie together, making out on the sofa softly, before hearing me getting railed by Alex next door. The sound got them both in the mood, and he took her to bed, before eating her out until she came - something Alex refused to do.

Martin looked at the lifeless form of ‘Phoebe’ on the sofa, and then to me and Zara. ‘What’s going on?’ he asked.

‘Zara came here to fuck you,’ I said simply. ‘Well - she wants me AND you, in your body, to fuck her. Because, since Alex, she’s been going insane, and needs someone she trusts to turn her inside out.’

He stood there, eyes wide, and sighed. ‘Is this my life, now? One weird sexual tryst after another?’

I smirked, and jumped-

-from Zara to Martin. I could feel the rush of arousal go through him, and as Zara stood watching us, I smiled using his lips.

‘Oh, he wants to do this,’ I said.

Zara looked at my body, then to Martin. ‘You’re in him? Now?’

I nodded. ‘You’re wet. He’s hard - or will be, soon. But! I think we should add one more layer to our cake, here.’

Then, I forced out Martin, swapping with him. Behind Zara, he woke up in my body, looking up at us both.

‘I’m still in him,’ I told Zara. ‘That is Martin, in my body. Swapped.’

‘Oh,’ Zara said with a sigh.

‘And, the last time we did this, it was all about Martin. Today, it’s all about you, okay?’ I walked up to her, taking her by the waist, and kissing her deeply. She moaned, eyes fluttering, and let our tongues explore each other.

From behind her, Martin, using my hands, slipped around her waist and deftly slipped beneath those revealing athletic shorts. Zara hummed, feeling my hands in her underwear, before pulling back.

‘You two are insane,’ she said with a smirk.

‘You have no idea,’ I heard my own voice say. I opened my eyes as Zara kissed my neck, and saw my own face, flush with red cheeks, as Martin unzipped the back of Zara’s sports bra. With a gasp into my neck, and a quick shift of her arms, she was topless, and those pert, perfect tits pressed into Martin’s chest like cushions from heaven.

As Martin kept kissing at her back, hand hands slid up and massaged her chest, making her moan into my mouth as I went beneath her shorts again, holding her delicious butt in my palms. I slipped my right hand around, staying within her shorts, until I could feel the soft brush of her pubic hair against my fingers; from there, I slipped one finger down between her folds, and felt the wet invitation of her sex as Martin used my hands to caress her chest. Zara was near-delirious as we worshipped her body, and eventually she pulled back from me and turned to see us both.

‘Bedroom?’

~ 8 ~

I was the first to wake up, warm and pinned beneath a tangle of limbs. Zara stirred a little as I shifted out from beneath her leg, but Martin barely noticed. As I sat up to get out of bed, I stumped my toe against one of Zara’s boxes, swearing a little under my breath; but, as I turned back and saw her, peaceful and content as she shared a pillow with Martin, I couldn’t stay upset.

Almost two weeks since she had arrived at our door, looking for release, and there was no sense of her leaving. Turns out, we didn’t exactly want her to. She was… fun. The person I had been jealous of for so long was, indeed, bright and sparkly and cute, but she was also kind and attentive in ways Alex hadn’t let her express before.

I went to the window, nude and uncaring, where I had so often people-watched. Some mornings I would jump out and share with people, just to see what their lives were like. The nicer ones, I would try and fulfill some aspect of their day they were struggling with - sending off an email for work they didn’t want to deal with, small things like that.

Once or twice, I’d inhabited the sort of person no one should be around, and while I’d never gone as far as I had with Ava or Alex, I did like to instill my own little justices. One cheating woman in her fifties was so rude, even inside her own head, I just pulled up her banking app on her phone, and donated half of her stowed-away savings to charity - only funds she was planning on using to book a holiday with her boyfriend whilst her husband thought she was working.

Another little task of mine was figuring out how to make money. I didn’t fancy outright robbing people, but equally my ability only served a slim consumer base - people who believed I was, in some way, psychic. Zara had set me up some online presence as an ‘energy clearer’, using some of her more hippy-esque contacts online; the idea being they would come to me, and I would share with them; they experienced my ‘taking over’ as an out-of-body experience, while I worked on calming them. I’d search through their memories, and find enough details to say to them once I finished sharing - things like, ‘Your son is acting out because he feels ignored.’ I’d add details, make sure they believed me, and they’d pay me for their time.

It wasn’t much, and it certainly wasn’t ethical, but it was enough to keep us above water. After all, it wasn’t like Martin could go back to working for Ava.

I watched out, over the park, and I heard Zara get up. The sound of a kiss, shared between her and Martin, made my heart flutter before she came up behind me, stunning as ever, and wrapped her arms around me.

‘Morning,’ she mumbled into my neck. ‘I’m making coffee.’

‘Hmmmm,’ I groaned as she left, the tickle of her fingertips on my shoulder blades.

Soon after, Martin came through in the dressing gown - and nothing else - and we shared an easy morning of hot coffee and contented sighs, the television on, and a customer lined up for me at 11, organised by Zara.

Which, of course, gave us plenty of time to fill with our favourite activity - which, not to put it too crudely, was being inside each other.

Heh.

As ever, an enormous thank-you to:

Flarevirtue

Simon Haynes

Sindre Bjørnhjell

Peer Henze

Mannie_RSF

Obi