The Body Thief – M2F Possession

Bethany had her body temporarily stolen years ago by a body thief who forced her to watch from behind her own eyes as he took over her life for his own pleasure. She vowed never to let it happen again, training hard at the gym and changing her routine to stay safe. But all it takes is one slip up at the wrong time for the thief to take her over once more and uncover her own hidden desires. Now available on Smashwords and Amazon.

My body is glistening now, my eyes constantly drawn back to my reflection. He makes me pose for myself, flexing my muscles, turning around to look at my entire body, to stare at my ass. A heavyset guy on the bench beside me catches my eye and grins. I’m mortified. It’s so embarrassing. But the stranger in my body seems to enjoy my discomfort. He returns the guy’s grin, even going so far as to give my ass a slight tap before turning to my reflection and wiggling his eyebrows.

Finally, exhausted and spent, the stranger makes my body walk out to my car. I can feel him stealing through my thoughts, guiding himself back to my house.

Why are you here? I demand.

“Do you remember what you were doing 15 years ago?”

The question takes me by surprise but I don’t want to play his game. Why don’t you just take the answer from my mind like you took the directions to my house?

My lips curl into a smile as I turn onto the road leading home. “To me the human mind is like a pond. The easy to grab collection of thoughts that makes up your usual routine: exercises, colleague’s names, even your years of experience as a nurse. Those are the lily pads, just sitting there waiting to be plucked. The deeper back in the past you go the murkier it gets. Plus, there’s lots of pond scum: fear, regrets, that sort of thing.” My body shudders. “I don’t want to relive those things through your eyes any more than you do. To further burden my little metaphor, what I want from you is the silt. You need to help me get back down to your deep past, those recollections and feelings you had 15 years ago so we can figure out your motivations.”

My motivations for what?

“For ghosting Dwight, my client.”

Dwight? Oh. Dwight. I was young. Young people do dumb, careless things.

“Yes, well, that’s the easy answer. But if that was all I wouldn’t be here.”

We pull into the underground garage of my complex and park. We get out and take the world’s slowest elevator up to the third floor, walk through the hallway to my apartment, and slip inside. The man tosses my keys and wallet onto the kitchen table—just as I usually do—then pours himself a glass of water and drinks it, one hand leaning on the counter. He’s adopted all my normal mannerisms. It’s spooky. Like someone play-acting me.

I don’t know what else you want from me? Do you want me to apologize to him?

“No, he doesn’t need that. He wants answers. Real answers. That’s fine. I can stay here. This is one of the better bodies I’ve been in lately.”

I find my eyes sliding down to my chest as my hands come up and land on my breasts. I squeeze my tits gently, groping myself. No matter how hard I try I can’t exert even the tiniest bit of influence over my body or the stranger’s mind. In fact, it’s the other way around. I can feel his delight as he jiggles my breasts.

“You have the most wonderful tits, Bethany,” my voice says.

In no time he’s peeled off my Lycra workout top, followed by my sports bra. My breasts bounce down and he gathers them in my hands, staring at them in awe. The usual relief of having the pressure from the sports bra off is tempered by the fact that there’s a stranger using my own hands to fondle me. I stroke my breasts, running my fingers underneath each one and then jiggling them, mesmerized by the way they bounce and sway. I take one of my nipples between thumb and forefinger and tweak it, pulsing lightly as I fondle my other breast. My nipples are so sensitive, and my touch sends a slow heat through my body. God, he knows just how I like to touch myself and his horniness for me is carrying my mind along. I’m seeing my body through a stranger’s eyes, somehow coveting my own heavy tits. I shimmy my torso, watching my breasts bob together, giggling as I contort my body.

Please. No. I beg in my mind.

“You want this,” my voice responds. And, god help me, I do.

My hands grasp my breasts and squeeze, pushing them up to my chest, my fingers digging into my sensitive skin. There’s an excitement for my own breasts I’ve never felt before. They’re fun to play with and I gather them in my hands again and again, stroking the skin, running my fingers underneath where it’s most sensitive. It draws a sigh from my lips. I know it must be a guy in my body from the way he enjoys my tits, pawing at them like his own personal toys.

I bring a breast to my lips, open wide and suck on my own nipple. My eyes close in delight. My tongue flicks across my nipple, sending sharp waves of pleasure through me. I taste delicious. I can’t help but enjoy myself, growing faster, greedy to suck on my heavy tits, bringing one, then the other to my lips, kissing and sucking, pulling my tit out of my mouth with a wet pop and squeezing again between my fingers. Now my nipples are glazed with saliva and my body is aflame with desire for myself. My head drops back, mouth falling open as I moan, my entire boy trembling. I’m so goddamn hot right now. I peel off my yoga pants, stepping out of them before yanking my panties down.

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