Martin is approaching middle age alone and in a dead-end job with no prospects for the future. But that all changes when he buys a watch that allows him to clone his mind into someone else’s body for one hour. When the hour is up he finds that he’s back in his own body re-living the previous hour in a loop, this time as himself.
Martin first tries out the power on his busty coworker. Then on the two college women who live next door to him. But he wonders what other possibilities there are. Can he use this ability to see one hour into the future to enrich himself?
This 11,000+ word story contains male to female body possession, and intense solo, lesbian, and hetero couple scenes.
Anyway, it was sometime mid-morning and I was in the middle of another dull report that Stuart noticed my watch. He always took a break at ten o’clock, leaning back and stretching dramatically.
“Nice watch,” he said, looking over at it.
“Thanks.” I held my wrist up to show him. “It doesn’t work but it looks cool.”
“Did you try winding it or anything?”
“Yeah. Didn’t seem to work.”
I scooted closer to him and held up my wrist, bending it so I could demonstrate. At the time I wasn’t aware that that the arrow on the watch was pointed directly at Erin. I only knew that Stuart started talking:
“I know a—”
I pinched the crown of the watch and pulled it up and the world instantly changed.
Suddenly, I was staring at an unfamiliar computer monitor. A half-finished email took up the screen, something about a budget item. There was an automatically generated signature at the bottom of the email with our company’s corporate logo. And Erin’s name.
I jumped slightly, felt my body shift in strange ways. Looking down at the keyboard I found two slender hands poised over the keys. The fingers were long and slim, the knuckles hairless, the nails gentle rounded curves.
My head dropped further and now I gazed down into incredible cleavage. Through the high neckline of the black shirt around my top—for it was very definitely my body now—I saw the breasts clasped together, along with a little hint of the black bra that was holding them up. It was the same top, the same breasts I’d been ogling only just that morning on Erin.
I let out a tiny gasp and looked around at the people next to me. None of my coworkers seemed to notice anything out of the ordinary. They kept typing away or talking on the phone while I tried not to scream.
The silky hair brushed against my neck and my cheek as I turned, and I swiped it behind an ear almost unconsciously. The movement was natural in a way, like I had Erin’s muscle memory.
Looking across the office, it took me a second to identify myself. My male body anyway. It wasn’t exactly like looking at a stranger, more like looking at an acquaintance I barely knew. Or a colleague I only talked to sometimes. He—my former body—was in conversation with Stuart, though he glanced up at me.
I avoided his gaze and looked down at my screen, frozen, not quite sure how to act. I was inside Erin’s body. Holy shit. I was Erin. When I glanced up again at my former self he was looking down at his watch as Stuart droned on beside him.
I slid my chair back from the desk and stood. Moving in her body for the first time was an experience. I seemed to be of two minds, literally, as I hurriedly walked across the office towards the privacy of the shower room. The Erin part of me moved naturally, feeling perfectly normal as I bounded down the hall. The me part of me was almost overwhelmed by the sensations of Erin’s body: my breasts bouncing at each step, my hips swaying, my butt wiggling back and forth. The sights and the sounds and the smells all filtered through Erin’s senses were familiar but not the same as I was used to.
I slipped into the shower room and locked the door behind me. The room was small and tiled in white. It was big enough for a single shower, a toilet and a sink. A mirror hung over the sink and I stepped in front of it.
Erin’s face appeared in the reflection. My eyes flicked across her delicate features, the shape of her nose, the crinkle of her eyes, the tiny freckles dotting the bridge of her nose, the pale green eyes. Her face—or, rather, my face—was framed by wavy honey-colored hair. My mouth hung open, Erin’s lips curving up and out to reveal the hint of her front teeth in a way that made her look so goddamn sexy, suggesting confusion and innocence.
“What the fuck?” I said. Her rich voice spilled from my lips, slightly different when heard from within her own head, but again familiar somehow.
I stared at my face in the mirror and felt that twinning of minds. To part of me it was a perfectly normal face I saw every day in the mirror, maybe I needed a little freshen up on my lipstick. To the other part it was holy fuck I was inside Erin’s body!
My hand was trembling as I brought it up to my face. I stroked my skin lightly with my fingertips, following the contours of my cheeks, my chin, my nose, my lips. I ran my tongue around the inside of my mouth, tasting her from the inside.
I wondered what was happening to my real body right now, but I also desperately wanted to take advantage of this in case it never happened again.
After a moment of hesitation, I pulled my shirt off over my head and tossed it onto the bench behind me, then gathered my blonde hair and swiped it out of my face with a practiced motion. I had a feeling of disconnect, realizing it was odd to take off my top in the middle of the day for no reason. But I pushed past it as I ogled myself in the mirror. Erin stood in front of me, her huge breasts covered by an equally huge bra. She was slightly plump but not fat, with a cute stomach.
I reached around and unclasped my bra. My breasts bobbed down, heavy and buoyant. I tossed the bra aside and took hold of my tits, wrapping my fingers beneath them and hefting them in each hand. They spilled out of my fingers, too big to wrap my hand around, but I squeezed as much as I could. I giggled, my lips curling into a smile as I watched Erin grope herself in the mirror. Looking down, I admired my own breasts as I jiggled them. There were light stretch marks here and there but that just made them more naturally gorgeous. The areolae were strawberry pink, the nipples just beginning to bud out beneath my touch.
“God, you’ve got some nice fucking tits, Erin,” I said to myself just to hear my voice.