A man with mind control powers and on the run from a mysterious agency lets his sexual desires run wild in a small suburban neighborhood in Hunter, available only on Body Swap Stories and Smashwords.
Hunter has narrowly escaped capture by fleeing to this nondescript suburb. Using the last of his mind control powers he takes refuge in a large house, intent on recovering and moving on before his would-be captors close in on him again.
But as he rests and his powers regain strength, he gives into his greed and lust, controlling the neighborhood and turning the inhabitants into willing participants in his sexual games.
This story is strictly mind control and does not contain any body swapping or possession elements.
“Stop here,” Hunter told the cab driver.
“You sure?” The driver said.
“Yes,” Hunter nodded, gritting his teeth. “I want to surprise my friends,” he lied.
Hunter’s head pulsed with something like a migraine, the pain stabbing deep into the back of his brain. He’d overdone it but it had been necessary. A desperate escape and a long drive under an assumed name.
The driver pulled over at the entrance to a suburban neighborhood. The sun was setting behind the trees to the west. Large houses sprang up in neatly ordered rows, each with its lawn just so, the colors and detailing of the houses identical thanks to micromanaging by the neighborhood association. The double garages probably hid expensive electric vehicles. Signifiers to the other residents of this upper middle class neighborhood that they belonged. As good a place to hide as any.
Hunter paid the driver in cash, making sure to tip the exact appropriate amount. It was already an atypically long trip, Hunter didn’t want to make it an even more interesting story for the driver by either being too cheap or throwing money around. Besides, he was running low on money now. He’d gotten careless. Hadn’t been thinking ahead. Too caught up in his own power.
Hunter slipped out of the cab and walked confidently up the curving entrance to the neighborhood. Behind him, the cab turned around and headed back to the highway. When the taillights disappeared behind a curve, Hunter allowed himself to slump and grimace. He massaged his temples. His vision throbbed with each pulse of his heart.
Just a little further.
Hunter wandered through the neighborhood, judging the houses. Even in this weakened state he was still picky. At the end of a cul-de-sac, one house stood out above the rest. The detailing was fancier, the front door grander.
Lights were on downstairs and Hunter rang the bell, listening as it echoed through the large house. Footsteps. The door opened. The man in the doorway was somewhere in his fifties. Trim. Dark hair going grey at the temples. Tan slacks and a pale blue button down shirt, the top button undone. A look of suspicion on his handsome face, prepared for Hunter to give him a door-to-door sales pitch.
“Treat me like your long lost best friend,” Hunter commanded, using the last of his ebbing powers.
The pain made him buckle and lean against the door. But even still there was that brief flash of feeling invincible that was so addictive about using his powers.
The man’s suspicion evaporated. His eyes widened with surprise and joy.
“Oh my god, it’s so good to see you!” The man said.
Hunter stuck out his hand for a shake but the man grabbed him in a hug, patting him on the back, manly and rough. Hunter’s vision blurred with the expense of his power. It would take some time to recover from this and he hoped his command would stick.
The man stepped back, still holding on to Hunter’s shoulders. “How long has it been, like, ten years?”
“Something like that,” Hunter croaked. “Can I come inside?”
“Of course, of course. Are you okay?”
The man ushered him inside. The house was warm and the delicious scent of garlic and onions spilled from the kitchen.
“Just a migraine,” Hunter said.
“Come on over here and sit down.”
The man ushered Hunter to an easy chair in the living room and then turned to the kitchen. “Honey, look who’s here, it’s…”
“Hunter,” Hunter offered quickly.
A woman poked her head around the corner of the kitchen. Blonde hair tied up in a ponytail with bangs curling down over her forehead. Black glasses perched across a delicate nose. Her white blouse was cut to her body shape, emphasizing her trim figure and the slight swell of her breasts. She was younger than the man of the house by about twenty years. No doubt the second—or third?—wife.
“He’s an old friend of mine,” the man said.
“Hi, Hunter,” she smiled and it lit up her features.
Luckily for her, Hunter was not yet at his full powers to unleash his debauchery. But, god, he ached to do it. Even the thought made another stab of pain and he hissed.
The man turned to him with a look of worry. “Do you want some painkillers?”
“That would be wonderful,” Hunter said.
The man disappeared. There was some murmuring from the kitchen. The man returned a few minutes later with a bottle of aspiring and a glass of water.
“Please stay for dinner, we’ve got plenty,” the man said, handing the pills and the glass to Hunter. “We can catch up.”
“I’d love that,” Hunter lied.
He downed the pills. The man sat on the couch across from him and reminisced about a past they never had. Hunter lied about his situation, making up a boring story about being part of the corporate world. He learned that the man’s wife was Charlotte and she was, indeed, the second wife. The man was a doctor, though these days doing less surgery and more management at the hospital.
Dinner consisted of stir-fry and more lies. Hunter trying gamely to play along with the story he himself had created so that Charlotte wouldn’t get suspicious. The medicine and the wine dulled the pain, though nothing would entirely erase it except time.
“Robert, here, hasn’t told me much about you,” Charlotte said, sipping her wine. She had piercing blue eyes, long elegant fingers ruined only by Robert’s gaudy diamond wedding ring, and a perfect little mouth. “How long have you known each other?”
“Ten years,” Hunter smiled, launching into a fictitious story about their past. He was an accomplished liar and seemed to put them both at ease, slipping into his role well.
The medicine had dulled the headache to a rumbling roar, and as he made up a story he used the opportunity to admire Charlotte. She moved easily, with a grace that matched her willowy body. A gorgeous face and eyes that twinkled with laughter. When she leaned forward her blouse fell open slightly, giving Hunter a glimpse of her pillowy breasts, clasped tightly by a white bra.
After dinner, the men went out onto the back porch, where Hunter fended off Robert’s questions with more lies. What did Hunter do now? How much did he earn? Was he married. Each question carried a suggestion of arrogance, as though Robert was comparing his life against Hunter’s and finding Hunter lacking. The man was a prick and it was getting tiresome. Plus, Hunter was barely keeping his eyes open. So much easier when he could use his powers and just be done with this bullshit.
“I’m sorry to ask,” Hunter said, “But do you mind if I spend the night here? I won’t be any trouble.”
“Of course. You can stay in one of the spare rooms. We’ve got a lot of them since Abigail and Jack went away to college.”
They showed him to Jack’s old room. A few football posters adorned the walls. A bookshelf along one wall held old high school trophies. Charlotte made up the bed and Hunter collapsed into it, letting sleep swallow him.
Read the rest on Body Swap Stories and Smashwords.