My new, full length story Ghosted is now available on Smashwords and Amazon. Be warned, this story is a little darker than my normal fare and contains themes of forced sexual domination. As always, there’s a preview below.
In Ghosted, a young woman is possessed by a man she spurned long ago, and is forced to watch from inside as he uses her body for his own amusement, unable to stop herself from joining in his pleasure.
Includes a bonus story, “Tested”, in which a young man finds himself suddenly transformed into a beautiful woman on the day of a big exam and learns how to get an A the easy way.
I pulled on my Lycra running shorts, adjusting here and there until they fit comfortably, then did the same with my pink sports top. My top was looking a little ragged around the edges but it was hard to find one that fit comfortably over my breasts, so when I found one I liked I held onto it. I tied my blonde hair back in a ponytail and strapped my iPod to my arm before hitting play on my workout playlist. Immediately, Tom Petty started singing about dreams and running down them and I headed out to the park for my thrice weekly jog.
Some days I was restless and my energy seemed boundless. This was not one of those days. I had to push myself the four blocks to Central Park and once there it took some time to settle into a rhythm. By the time I managed to get my breathing somewhat in check I was under the first of the three bridges and had been joined by a big guy in a red jogging outfit who’d come out from a side path and was now cruising along slightly in front of me. I was feeling jumpy and unsettled for some reason. A sense of foreboding hung around me that I couldn’t shrug off. I tried to sink into the steps and let the jiggling of my ponytail serve as a metronome for my feet. It didn’t help that every time I tried to overtake the guy in red he sped up just enough to stay in front. Some people are like that, though, using others to motivate themselves.
I got a good look at his clothing: brand new jogging outfit, dark sunglasses, little wire leading down his shirt to some hidden music player. He was a beefy guy with a blonde crew cut that screamed ‘asshole’, or maybe military. Maybe both. My inspection helped take my mind off of how much I just wanted to die from today’s run. My legs ached and the sweat dripped uncomfortably between my breasts. I didn’t think this run could get any worse.
My lungs were burning and my legs ached anyway, so I slowed down to let Red Guy go ahead. By now we were entering a dense thicket and the trees closed in around us. That’s when I sensed someone behind me and turned briefly to see Black Guy. I wasn’t being racist; he did happen to be a black man, but he was also wearing all black, in the same manner as the Red Guy in front of me who was wearing all red. He also had a wire running from one ear down into his shirt. Did these guys go to the same athletics store? I turned back around and noticed Red Guy had slowed down even more and was nearly in front of me. He glanced back at me and even with his glasses on I caught an unnatural interest in his demeanor. A warning bell went off in my mind.
Too late, I tried to stop suddenly and veer off back down the track from the direction I’d just come from, but Black Guy stepped out in front of me. He reached for my arm and I managed to dodge backwards out of the away, only to be wrapped up from behind by Red Guy. His arms snaked around my waist and he lifted me into the air as I struggled. His grip tightened around my abdomen and forced the breath from my lungs, killing my scream before it had a chance to escape. I kicked out wildly behind me wherever I could, hoping to hit something, anything. I felt the heel of my foot hit a soft part of his body and he grunted, his grip around me loosening briefly. I clawed at his hands, scrambling like a cat in his grip and then Black Guy grabbed my hair and pulled my head back hard before stuffing some sort of cloth against my mouth and nose. There was a slightly sweet chemical smell and then the world wavered and my strength evaporated. As the world quickly shrank to a gray pinprick I heard Red Guy griping about where I kicked him and calling me a fucking bitch.
I awoke sometime later lying on a floor with my face pressed into a beige carpet. It had that acrid smell of newly laid carpet. I slowly rolled over onto my side and saw that the room was painted a bright white and was empty of furniture. There was a window set in the wall across from me. Outside, the orange glow of the sunset was deepening to a dark purple and the lights of the high rise across the street were coming on. Looking down at myself I saw I was still dressed completely in my jogging outfit. I was a little woozy and I had a headache but I didn’t appear to be hurt. Or worse.
I heard soft footsteps approaching through the carpet behind me. I felt a jolt, more mental than physical, and swung my head around but saw nothing, just the rest of the empty bedroom. The closet on the far wall was slightly ajar and a bare bulb swung gently back and forth on its string. The room was completely empty, yet I could feel the faint whisper of air that had been disturbed from the passage of a body. I chalked it up to my imagination, jumpy after being abducted. I had no idea if my captors were still around nor what they wanted with me. They hadn’t tied me up and I couldn’t hear a sound from within the rest of the apartment.
I stood slowly, using the wall for support until I got my legs underneath me. I flexed my toes and massaged my calves, trying to rub some feeling back into my legs. I didn’t want to call out, didn’t want to bring any attention to myself if the kidnappers were still around. The rest of the apartment seemed dark and empty but I wanted to be sure. When I was steady on my feet I crept slowly to the bedroom door and peered out. The place was empty. Not a person or a piece of furniture anywhere. For some reason they seemed to have dumped me into an empty apartment and left.
“Hello, Brandy,” a woman’s voice said. I jumped and looked around. It soon dawned on me that the voice had been my own; it had come from my own lips, in fact.
“You probably don’t remember me.” My lips were moving, it was my own voice speaking, but I wasn’t the one doing the talking. It felt like there was someone inside me, controlling my mouth.
“But I remember you,” my lips continued by themselves.
I clamped my hands to my lips, trying to get my voice to stop. Was I going crazy? My hands dropped to my sides against my control. I struggled to bring them up to my mouth, felt stiff resistance, and then…nothing, my ability to move my arms evaporated. Whatever, or whoever, was in my body, I could no longer fight it.
“What do you want?” I asked, and waited for my own response. My mouth was still my own even as the rest of my body was taken by a stranger.
“I want you to feel like you made me feel.” The stranger responded in my own voice. “You’re the heartless diva in your own selfish story. Well, I want to make you pay, I want to expose your every thought and impulse. You bitch.”
And then I felt myself being mentally pushed out of my own head. I could still think, could still feel my body, but I was no longer in control. My hands ran across my ponytail and pulled it to my nose of their own accord, the stranger in my body inhaling deeply of my lavender scented shampoo. I was a passenger in my own body, experiencing everything but unable to have even the smallest impact on my body’s movements. The stranger tossed my ponytail back and the room spun as he made me look down at my own body. I was forced to stare down at my arms, to run my fingers across my smooth skin as little goosebumps shot up beneath my touch. The stranger brought my hands to my chest and squeezed my breasts. I was terrified as he violated me, forced me to fondle my own body. I could feel his growing excitement reflected in my own body. His emotions overpowered my own and a felt a warm excitement growing between my legs at the sight of my own body. I dreaded what he would do, for from the way he was bouncing my breasts in his hands I had no doubt it was a “he” who was controlling me. I couldn’t run, couldn’t scream as he fondled my breasts and ran my own hands down the outside of my shorts. He turned around to look at my ass and squeezed my soft flesh.
Get out of me! I yelled in my head.
My body just laughed. “Still feisty. I like that,” my voice said. “You and I are going to have some fun.”
I don’t want to have any fun with you, I snarled.
“You don’t have any choice!” My voice yelled, “Maybe you don’t realize it but I’m in charge now. I get to decide whether you get your body back in one piece, and what we do with it in the meantime.”
One hand reached up and twisted my nipple. Pain shot through me and my body faltered. “Oww, fuck,” he said in my voice.
That hurts you as much as it hurts me.
“Maybe so, but this time I’m the one causing the pain. And it’s you’re life I’m fucking. You’re going to remember everything I’m about to do in your body.”
He strolled through the empty apartment and out the door. My body moved naturally, as though he’d stolen even my sense of self. I sat trapped in my own head as my body headed out the hallway and down the street. I still had access to all my senses, could still feel the pavement beneath my feet, smell the aroma of the passing food cart, hear the sounds of the traffic, but I couldn’t control a thing. I was forced to look wherever the stranger in my body did, forced to slip my hands against my breasts and adjust my running bra in the middle of the street as passing strangers stared. The desperation of my situation hit me. He could make me do anything and I would be forced to obey, powerless to stop him.
When we arrived at the metro he realized I wasn’t carrying any money, so we simply hopped the turnstile. The trains were crowded with commuters returning home from work and we pushed on into a mass of bodies. As the train bumped and jostled us someone pinched my butt. The stranger in my body jumped and giggled—actually giggled at being felt up—then turned and shot a dazzling smile at the men behind us, all of whom were pretending to pay no attention but one of whom must have been the pincher. When the stranger forced my body to look away again, the hand returned, and this time sat against the cheeks of my ass, squeezing gently, first one then the other. I felt my body lean my ass back against the hand and give the man on the train free reign to feel me up. I was humiliated and angry but, oddly, starting to get turned on. It could only be the stranger in my body, making my body respond to his own feelings of lust. If he had this much control over me and was willing to let a random stranger stroke my ass, what else would he be willing to do in my body? And what else would he enjoy? He let the unseen fingers circle the top curve of my ass and slip down between the cheeks of my crack until I reached my stop.