This is my first attempt at an erotic story. I welcome all feedback.
The grocery store cashier rang in my total - $12.49. Her name tag – Wendy – rested gently over her left breast pocket of the beige grocery uniform shirt. I paid with cash, as always.
"I just had back surgery," I lied as I shoved the change into my jeans pocket. "I'm not supposed to lift anything heavy. Can I get some help carrying these water jugs to my car?"
"Sure thing," Wendy soothed in her artificially sweet tone. "I'll just get someone for you." Scanning over her checkout counter, Wendy spied a shelf jockey two aisles over, wearing the same beige shirt with the Food King circular logo on his front pocket. "Jake!" she called out, "can you do a carry out." Her nonplussed tone and slack body language screamed apathy. Just another long, lifeless day.
"One minute," Jake called back. He actually took only about 10 more seconds to secure a macaroni and cheese box pyramid display he was building. Jake surveyed my situation on his way over, and without another word, picked up the two 10 gallon water bottles with the ease that comes with youth and exuberance. He would be perfect.
I walked ahead of Jake to the car. The morning fresh air held promise of another hot summer day. I thought of the beach – a stroll along the sand looked like the order of the day. As I approached the car I used my key FOB to unlock all the doors. I asked Jake to put the bottles carefully in the back seat while I opened the front right door. I retrieved a dollar bill that was waiting for me in the coin holder. I waited for Jake to slam the rear door shut, and then held out a dollar bill for him – not enough to make a big deal about, but enough that someone on minimum wage wouldn't turn down.
"Oh, thanks mister," he offered has he reached for the dollar bill through the open passenger door. My visual world collapsed into a small dark tunnel, as if I was looking through a black straw. I imagined this must be what people experience when they have a stroke. Unlike a stroke victim, my vision returned to normal a moment later, and I braced myself against the car, anticipating the inevitable moment of disorientation.
"Get in the car," I ordered Jake, holding the front door open for him. He obeyed silently. "Buckle up," I added before closing the door beside him. I walked around the front of the car, opened my door, and stepped in. Jake was sitting silently with his seatbelt firmly buckled.
I started the car and pulled out of the parking space. At Burnsdale Road I turned right, and head south for three miles, then I turned left onto Brook Lane, then a right, and navigated down the twisty streets in one of a thousand sleepy suburb neighborhoods.
As I approached the house, I looked to my silent passenger. Everything seemed fine. I pressed the remote control button, and turned into the driveway just as the opening garage door rolled up out of view. I pulled into the middle of the two car garage, turned the car off, and pressed the garage door remote. I waited in the car until the door banged shut before opening the car door. "Unbuckle your seatbelt," I told Jake before I stepped out of the car. I went to the security alarm panel, and entered the garage door access code. I opened the passenger door. Jake just sat there. "Get out and follow me."
Jake dutifully walked behind me. I unlocked the door to the house. Immediately a beeping panel warned me my second security system had sensed my entry. I shielded Jake's view of the key panel and entered a different code to silence the internal alarm. I locked the door to the garage, and re-armed both alarm systems.
I walked down the hallway, turned left before I got to the TV room, and made my way to the main floor bedroom. Jake followed like a duckling. Everything was waiting in my bedroom exactly as I had left it. I took all my clothes off while Jake stood motionlessly. I picked up the adult diaper waiting for me on the bed and fastened it to myself. Next I donned the neatly folded sweatpants and T-shirt. I attached the medical sensors beside my bed to my fingers and chest. They measured blood pressure, respiration, body temperature, skin galvanic response, and ECG. I checked all the readouts.
Satisfied everything was good, I lay down on the bed. "Come over here, beside me." Jake obediently drifted across the room, and stood at my side. "Sit down on the edge of the bed." I waited until Jake was seated before I held his hand.
The tunnel vision came back, but this time it lasted longer – maybe five seconds. When it was over, I steadied myself. Satisfied I was fine, I stood up beside the bed, and went to the attached bathroom. I looked in the mirror, and I saw Jake's face looking back at me. He was wiry – even a bit scrawny. His parted dark brown hair seemed like it needed a hairstylist or a stick of dynamite – either would be an improvement.
This is probably a good time to explain body-to-body transfer. I think I had this ability since birth, but I never really figured it out until about five years ago. I am still learning new aspects of the transfer, sometimes with surprising, and even dangerous results. I can transfer my entire mind – my conciseness – call it my soul, if you will – into another body whenever I want to. I have to be in physical contact with the other person. That's what happened when I took Jake's hand on the bed.
When I transfer out of my own body, it goes into a sleep – maybe a coma – I'm not entirely sure. I have no idea how long I can stay out of my own body, but while I am "away", it still has its own biological needs, such as breathing, waste dump, and food. Because my comatose body cannot eat, I have to re-inhabit it before it gets too hungry or thirsty.
Recently I discovered I can jump only part way into a host. That's what happened in the parking lot. In a partial jump (I call it a skip), I stay fully alert and functional inside my own body, but I also assume general control over the host. A skip is like putting the host into a hypnotic trance. The host still has his own motor control, but absolutely no will power, discretion, or judgement. I totally own the host during a skip. I discovered that talking to the host – giving it verbal commands at the same time I control the host from within his own mind – creates a mind lock that overpowers any possible resistance.
When I jump (not just skip) into another body, I take total and complete control over the host's body. I can make it walk, talk, eat, fuck – anything I want. And best of all, I sense and feel everything that the host would normally feel.
I am working on a new transfer – I haven't perfected it yet. I call it lurking. Lurking is like read-only skipping. Like skipping, I keep control over my own body. When I lurk, the host has unfettered control over his own body, thoughts, judgement, will power, and discretion. I literally hide somewhere in the back of the host's mind – like a stowaway passenger. While I lurk, I see and feel everything the host sees and feels.
You have no idea what opportunities await me. Just last week I jumped a guy with a searing hot girlfriend. She's five feet ten, had gorgeous blue eyes, wavy blonde hair to match her curvy figure, and big, firm tits that stand up and salute! I happened to see them a couple of weeks before I jumped him. They both got out of his BMW. She gave him a long French kiss while he groped her ass with one hand and felt her pussy through her cotton dress with the other. They stood there on the sidewalk like that for fifteen seconds before they walked into the condo building. Man, I thought, I've got to jump that. Two weeks later and a little research, I was in.
Jumping takes a lot of careful planning and execution. I can't just walk up to a guy and jump him, because then my own body would fall down in a coma. That's why I brought Jake back to my house. Jake is not the target – he is just a mule. I use him to get to the real target. When I jump from one person to another (I call that a leap), the person I jumped from suddenly wakes up, as if he has been sleepwalking. He has no memory of any part of the jump.
I can only usefully jump people who speak English as their mother tongue. Early on, before I became careful, I leaped a Spanish speaking host – it was a disaster. I couldn't control him, and he had no control over his own body. I/we quivered on the floor like a victim of an epileptic seizure. Thankfully the still dazed mule was still there, and when he touched us, I leaped back into the mule. Since then I do all my homework before jumping.
My homework on the blond girl's boyfriend, Jet, (yes, that's his name) is an ad executive, but I don't think he works very hard. He is English speaking. He makes over a quarter million a year from his inheritance investments, and he's only 32. He owns a luxury condo down by the waterfront and drives a BMW. He gave his gorgeous blond girlfriend, Fiona, a Mercedes convertible last year.
I used a mule to leap Jet in his underground parking lot. As Jet, I rode the elevator upstairs to his condo. Fiona was waiting for him/me wearing a tightly clinging hot black mini dress.
"Dinner's ready." She wrapped her arms around me and kissed me long and hard with a warm open mouth. No French this time.
"Can't wait for dessert" I offered enthusiastically.
"I read your email about Paris today – you're getting an extra helping of dessert tonight, big boy!" I gathered their relationship was mostly physical – he bought her bling and took her to Paris, and she reciprocated with carnal gratitude. I don't think either of them expected to grow old together – that wasn't the point. They were both having fun, and they filled each others' needs, for now.
Cooking was clearly not part of the deal – dinner was actually lousy. Perhaps neither of them cared – maybe it was all about the dessert. So after she cleared the plates in that hot little dress, she – oops – dropped a knife, turned her back to me, and bent over at the hips to pick up the knife, offering me a clear view of her bare ass. Jet's cock saluted in wild appreciation. The game was afoot. I decided to play it out a little more – being too eager didn't seem like Jet's style. "A little clumsy, are we?" I chided playfully as I watched her perfectly shape ass straighten up and walk into the kitchen.
"I guess I had trouble holding on to it, being so wet and slippery and all," she called back without losing a beat.
Before I could think of a witty reply, she returned from the kitchen and walked right up to my chair. She pressed her knees to the edge of the seat, and leaned forward, letting her dress-bound tits smother my face. "If I don't suck you off right now," she whispered, "I'm going to bust."
