She jogs through the night unaware of what awaits her. She runs, lost in her own world, letting the stress of the previous day fade from her mind as the last of the suns rays fade from the sky. The rhythmic strides on the pavement, the gasps of air, the strain of muscle and bone, all come together to form the heartbeat of her own private world. Nothing can find her here, no one can bother her here. Her world shrinks down to her body and the stretch of road she runs on.
It is this feeling that keeps her coming back here every evening. Back to jog around the park while the sun sets, well after everyone else has gone back to their lives. For a few minutes out of each day, she doesn't have to worry about anything. For these few minutes, she isn't thinking about her kids, or her convict brother, or her overbearing mother, or her neglectful husband, or work, or even the dog. her whole world consists of the road.
The road doesn't want money for shoes. The road doesn't complain when she works late. The road is never down at the bar when she needs it. The road doesn't make passes at her in the break room. The road doesn't need anything from her. And that is exactly how she likes it. She likes being alone, carefree if only for a moment. That one moment has become the only thing she looks forward to anymore. The only light left in the otherwise unbearable monotony of her life.
I hate to interrupt her perfect moment.
I can feel the shadows getting thicker around me as I watch her run. With each passing moment the light grows dimmer and I grow stronger. I can keep pace with her effortlessly now, the shadows of the forested lane have entwined her legs to her knees. I can feel the caress of darkness on her shapely legs as though the shadows were my hands, slowly climbing her body.
The sun sinks lower, my shadows climb inexorably up her running, perfect form. I begin to hunger as my darkness reaches her upper thighs. With the merest twinge of effort I force open the arteries in her legs, letting blood flow faster. My shadows have reached her hips now, and I can feel the warmth of her womanhood wrapped in my unrelenting embrace. I can feel the increased blood flow to her sex. I can feel her flesh becoming slightly engorged and I can feel the warm juices begin to flow.
She doesn't notice the growing warmth between her legs, so focused is she on the road that she doesn't feel her body responding to me. My darkness reaches her tight stomach, and I can feel my power making her abdomen clench in primal need. Clothing is no barrier to me, I can feel every pore, every line, every fold of delicate flesh. I use some of my power to slowly caress her swollen lips, causing even more of her warm lubricant to flow.
The shadows reach her breasts, small and perfect against my darkness, she is small of frame, and her bust is perfectly sized to match the rest of her athletic form. As my shadows climb past the mound of her bosom, I can feel my power cupping her breasts, I can feel my touch making her nipples hard and as swollen as her waiting pussy. I can feel her heartbeat, in time with her steps as she races down the last road she will ever see.
Her hands and arms are mine now. I can feel every sinew, every muscle, every bone as she moves her arms like pistons. She is strong, with little fat and much hard muscle. I take a moment to revel in the feel of her 5 foot, 4 inch body under my touch while she remains blissfully unaware. My shadows fall on her shoulders and I can finally wrap myself completely around her, I can finally embrace her with my full power.
She stumbles to a halt, confusion on her face, quickly replaced by need, followed even faster by bewilderment. I hold her there for a moment while she tries to move again. She cannot. My control is too deep now. I refrain from enveloping her face and head, though I am drawn to her fiery red hair, I want her to know what is happening to her.
She struggles. The all do, once they realize that they no longer control their own bodies, but it's far too late. By the time they notice anything is amiss, I already have too much control for them to ever break free. The shadows become tinged in her fear as she discovers the extent of her helplessness, her head cranes back and forth, the only muscles she still has control of are above her shoulders.
She looks down at her legs, then her arms, then she fixates on one hand as she concentrates as hard as she can. I delight in the momentary spark of satisfaction when I clench that hand for her into a fist. I bring her hand up, level with her breasts, lifting just the index finger to point towards the sky. She watches in horror for a moment then tries to draw breath to scream.
I choke off the scream before it can ever reach her throat, then I wag her finger disapprovingly in front of her. her eyes widen in fear, but she swallows and nods. She is well and truly terrified now, but I can do something about that. I send a slight pulse of power through her, jolting her and bringing the need I have so carefully inspired to the forefront of her feelings. Her knees quiver and her hips begin rocking slightly in anticipation. She even licks her lips before remembering to be afraid.
Only then, as she stands alone, wrapped in darkness, quivering with need, do I step out of my shadows. Her eyes grow large with surprise as she gazes on my ghostly pallor and alabaster smooth skin. I am wearing only a long coat and loose fitting jeans, my chiseled chest open to the night, she stares hungrily at me for a moment before remembering what situation she is in.
