I've searched all over the Internet, but I still haven't found a name to describe it. It's almost like I can leap into people's bodies, wherever they are, whoever they are, and control them. I can make them do whatever I like. I can feel what they feel, see what they see. I almost become them. They will have no remembrance of what happened whilst I was in control, because I can also invade their memories and thoughts.
Now, as you can probably tell, this power can come in handy. For instance I can make a shopkeeper hand over all the money in their till or my landlord let me off rent. The only flaw, is that I cannot control my own body whilst I am in another. My empty skin just stays fixed in position, lifeless. Though I don't let that hold me down, oh no!
Two days after my 18 birthday I decided to experiment a bit. I didn't have uni or work that day, so I could leave my body at home and explore the world. But first I needed a target, a mark of such. I skimmed my Facebook page and vowed to 'invade' the first person who came up. I sighed with dismay when I looked at the first news feed on my screen. Rachel Emma Dawson. The class whore who had just uploaded some more slutty pictures onto her profile. Suddenly, I had an idea. No man could resist even touching her. I realised I could have some fun with Rachel after all.
I focused, closed my eyes, and thought of becoming Rachel. I slowly opened my eyes and looked down to see a pair of plump 36DDs in front of me, surrounded by a mass of sleek, black hair that was swept over my shoulders. It's funny that. The moment I morph I refer to the person as myself, I suppose I could be I guess. I look up and find myself staring at a mirror, the floor littered with clothes. I clearly caught Rachel whilst she was changing. I gazed into the mirror, feeling that my usual curly brown hair, 32Bs and quite tall frame was pretty ugly to raven haired, tanned Rachel's body. I myself, am actually quite attractive, but am nothing in comparison to Rachel. I had to admit, I was slightly jealous, but envy aside, I could do what ever I wanted to now. I gazed around the room. It was painted red with black accents and reminded me slightly of a brothel. I walked over to the four poster bed in the middle of the room. The duvet was quilted and looked like it had just been changed. Suddenly the doorbell rang! As I was still naked I grabbed some of the sluttier clothes off the floor and threw them on. Cautiously, I walked over to the door and peeked through the peephole. The man who stood before me was short, fat and badly balding. He must have been about 40. From the infuriated expression on his face, I gathered he must be the landlord (an expression I recognised from my own dear Mr Rossitor)
