“The Statement of X--- Y--- Z---" Part 6

by Seuzz

Heh. I don't want to start off being argumentative, but no, I wouldn't call my move into Peter the "start of my new life." You're moving to fast and making too many assumptions about what I wanted and why I was doing these things. Yes, when I crawled into Peter I had no intention of going back to my old life, and yes, by crawling into him I was crawling into a new life. It was the start of a "new life" in that sense, I'll grant you. But I wasn't planning on crawling out of him any time soon, and I wasn't planning on crawling lots of other people, if any. So, if by "new life" you mean it was the start of my life as a serial crawler, no, it wasn't. That came later.

Well, I had lots of reasons for not wanting to leave Peter. First of all, it hadn't really occurred to me that I could live as a serial crawler. I'd had problems enough getting into and out of people, thank you very much, so I just assumed that I'd have to stay in Peter for a very long time. Also, mostly I was looking for a better life, and in Peter I'd found one. Not just better, it was itself a good life. He had a solid family. His father owned a small but successful business. He had a good mother and some younger siblings. He had a good body, a good-looking body, and he was, um, socially adept. He had friends, and he made friends easily. He had fun, playing sports and socializing with his circle. He had prospects. I was inside him by the time it came to seriously start applying to colleges, and we, or I, managed to get into the state university. He was going to go off to that school with his girlfriend, and we were already talking about getting married and starting a family. It was everything I didn't have, everything that you were supposed to want. Why would I want to change?

So I stayed in him, a little bit out of fear of not being able to get into anyone else if I left him, I'll admit, but mostly because I thought I had arrived.

Yes, I was looking for fun, and he had fun, in his way. The kind of fun I'd witnessed from afar in school, and the kind I'd been jealous to have. Sports, popularity, friends. We did have some new experiences together. Not long after graduation I took off with some of his friends. We were supposed to drive out to Omaha, to find some digs, but after we got out of town we took a long detour and wound up down at the beaches in Texas. Spent a week down there, living on the beach, playing on the beach in only our t-shirts and swimming trunks. We ditched the former during the day while we played football, flashing our young and healthy torsos for the benefit of the girls. I hooked up with a couple of them, even--a new experience for me and Peter both. We drove back up to Nebraska with some great memories and a nice tan.

In the middle of the summer I drove back to Omaha with my dad and got a spot in the dorms. Bought some necessities, and a few weeks later moved in. I drove around town, finding the bars and the hang outs. Christie followed soon after, so I didn't have a chance to play around any more. I tried out for the football team and got a spot, but it was clear I wasn't going to be a star. That's okay. We loved to play the game, Peter and me. We worked out and practiced on the field and made new friends. Classes started, and I buckled down to study. I joined a fraternity, and was invited to move into the frat house at the start of the spring semester. New friends, popular friends there. Christie and I stayed serious, but there was a bit of a drift. I found myself looking at the other girls and wondering if I should settle down so soon with one girl, with her. The trip down to Texas had whetted my appetite, and I cheated on her more than a few times. We had fights and then we had makeup sex. Christie was cute, but not so cute as to think that she could just hang onto me without any effort. The other guys made sure to remind me that I could do better than her.

Yeah, but I didn't think this kind of thing was out of the ordinary. A lot of my friends were going through the same thing, so I figured it was part of being a healthy, normal, college-age guy. And I saw enough other guys who were in worse shape. Small guys, thin guys, fat guys, guys who didn't have the advantages I had with Peter. So I had no desire to change. Oh, every once in a while I'd catch myself eyeing one of the other guys speculatively. Someone would have a hot girlfriend for awhile. Someone else would be hooking up with lots of girls. Someone would have more spending money or would be getting better grades. There were, of course, guys on the football team or on the basketball team who were better than me and got a lot more attention. But no one had a life that was clearly or solidly better than Peter's, and it seemed that if I made an exchange I'd simply be trading one set of advantages and disadvantages for a different set.

What happened was that the ceiling fell in on his life. His mom died.

It happened during my second semester, during the spring. I'd been Peter for a year, had grown totally comfortable as him. And his mother was a good woman, so it was a real shock to me. To both of us, though I wasn't always clear in my own head how much of our life was mine because I was Peter and how much of it was me just pretending being Peter. But it was a bad shock, and worse followed.

I was at school when one of his uncles called. That by itself was a bad sign. She'd had a heart attack, sudden and fatal. She wasn't an old woman, so it was surprise. I went home, of course, and found an ugly scene.

Peter's dad had gone to pieces. I got home and found that my-- his-- brother and sister, who were a few years younger than Peter, had left to stay with relatives. His dad was by himself, and when I found him he was drunk. He had never been a serious drinker, that I knew of, and I found him in the den, just sitting, unmoving. He wouldn't talk, wouldn't stir, just stared at the TV set, which was off, holding a whiskey bottle. There was a bad odor in the house. Not literally, but the air was still, and felt and smelled defeated, as though some spark had left it. I had to leave him as he was, in his recliner, seeing nothing and feeling nothing but death around him, and went to find that uncle. He was grim. He knew what was going on in that house, but had nothing to say about it. I had to go home, to more silence.

A day or two passed, and Peter's dad showed no sign of coming to life. The funeral home called to make arrangements, and he mulishly refused to acknowledge me when I went to find him. I had to talk to them, and wound up having to take over all the planning. I had no idea what to do, and that uncle had to leave town himself on other business. It all fell onto me--the coffin, the service, the minister. I agreed to everything they put in front of me. Peter's dad came to life briefly when he found me at the dining room table, looking numbly over the paperwork. He got pissed because he saw it was going to be expensive. We had a horrible fight.

He skipped the funeral, if you can believe it. I started dreading it when I had to leave the house, not knowing what I'd find when I came home--another dead parent, maybe. I hid the shotguns, but there are a lot of ways of doing oneself in.

And then there was the stuff afterwards. The insurance, the finances. She'd had her own money, a good bit of it she'd squirreled away out of her household allowance and from her own side businesses in baking and hair-dressing. She'd invested it, and done well with it over the years, so there was a broker and some lawyers to deal with. I found out all that myself, often in unpleasant ways.

I-- or Peter-- both us, I guess, lost all respect for his dad. I had to take over his business, long enough to furlough his employees, and had to tell them I didn't know if the business would resume. There were some half-completed projects--he did plumbing and electrical work--and not all of the customers were happy. I had to run interference, because there was no way I could expose them to Peter's dad, or him to them.

I got things into some kind of stable pattern long enough that I could return to the school. It was supposed to be a break from the shit back home, but it was worse, because I didn't have anything to distract me. I was in no shape to have a social life, and my friends were no help, because they kept partying and having fun with their normal lives. I couldn't sleep. I'd lay in bed, waiting for my roommate to come back, often with a date, so I'd have to move out into the common room. Things had gone south with Christie before Peter's mom died, and though we didn't break up, we were strained, and we didn't have fun with each other. She tried being good with me, but I was in no mood for it.

The breaking point came one night as I stared at the dark ceiling. Suddenly, I just wanted to crawl out of my skin. Peter did too. The difference was that crawling out of his skin was something I could do. Problem was, I'd been in him long enough that I had a hard time separating my feelings from his, and to give up on him in this crisis seemed like a terrible dereliction. An abandonment. But then it occurred to me that I couldn't do anything for him anyway. I had no strength or knowledge that he didn't. I didn't add anything to our partnership. He'd be no worse if I left him. And once I realized that, I couldn't get out of him fast enough.

Still, I knew that a change would have to be arranged. I couldn't just lunge from him.

I had to wait a day or two, a very tense time. Then one night I invited my roommate out to a bar. Supposedly just to hang out, but it was to get him drunk. I bought him round after round while keeping myself relatively sober. He got smashed, which wasn't unusual for him. I had to deflect him from the girls in the bar. It was touch and go for a bit--we almost came to blows a few times--but I steered him out of the bar, half carrying him, and got him home and into our bedroom, where I threw him onto the bed. Pulled his shoes and socks and pants off, turned him onto his back. He mumbled and grumbled and scratched at himself. He was a disgusting sight--filmy with perspiration and cigarette smoke and banked testosterone, and I don't think he'd showered that morning. Not an appetizing destination, but the only one I could set up. I turned off the lights and sat on the edge of Peter's bed, waiting. Eventually his breathing turned heavy and then he began to snore, sawing heavily. I waited a bit, in case he woke up. After a very long time I decided it was safe. I lay back on Peter's bed, and for the first time it occurred to me that maybe I'd been in him too long, that I wouldn't be able to crawl out of him.

A baseless worry, as it happened. It was like turning loose, unhooking a grasp I didn't know I'd been exercising. I didn't so much crawl out of him as I let him expel me. It was like bobbing to the surface of a thick pool. I rolled over and fell off him, and onto the floor. I held my breath, worried I'd been too loud, but I heard nothing except his roommate snoring. I slid over to the other bed and gingerly raised myself onto it. I took one last glance back at Peter, but he was just a dark mass in the black room. I straddled my new body and put my hands onto his face and chest. It was going to be bad when I woke up, I was sure. I'd have a terrific hangover. Then I took a deep breath and pressed down onto him. I sank swiftly into him.

It was awful when I came to. I was sick and shaking, and I didn't dare move. My head was a tangle of thick wool and cotton, with someone softly beating it with a mallet. I huddled under the sheets and wondered what would happen if I hurled--would I come out of this new guy along with his last meal?

Finally I woke up enough that I could move around feebly. I looked over at the other bed. Peter was gone. Shakily, I pulled myself together and sat up. When I felt strong enough I staggered to my feet and wove my way out of the room and to the bathroom. I bumped into someone on the way; he said something and I mumbled something back. In the bathroom I crouched on the toilet, head down, getting myself together. It was cold, and that did me some good, so that I could stand up again. I went to the sink, ran some cold water, splashed myself in the face with it. Then looked in the mirror.

You'll notice I don't remember the name of the guy I'd crawled into. I wasn't in him long. But I remember the face. Dark hair, thick, standing up every which way. A few days growth of beard. He wasn't a sports player, just a fraternity punk, so I didn't have much mass under the t-shirt. Gingerly, I ran through what I now knew about him. Nothing, really. Just a nineteen-year-old jerk, off to school to party and get laid. I grinned. After the drama Peter had to deal with, that was all I wanted.

This, really, was the start of my new life, if you want to pin a date to it. I decided I wasn't going to deal with any shit. I wasn't even going to let shit get close to me. Peter had had a good life, and then shit came out of nowhere and hit him in the face. I decided I wasn't going to stay inside anyone long enough for shit to have a chance of getting itself together for a strike. Certainly I wasn't going to stay in this new guy long. I didn't even want to look at Peter anymore. Maybe I felt shame for running away from him. But that day, that morning, I decided, I was going to find myself someplace new. And someplace new after that. And someplace new after that.

Host with the most…

by MKrug

"Now, lets see which Hunk I will be today."

You were so lucky, you had won HGTV's newest contest. The contest said that you could be a host of a show, and you held them to their world.  Thankfully you knew a bit of black magic to possess people.

However, once you had one, you had to have all the others.You slowly entered each new host as they came along, planting a subconscious trigger for them to all be your servants and to willingly give themselves to you. Eventually, you had a whole harem of hot men that you could become, whenever the whimsy hit you.  All it took was one well planned call and a few moments before you were smiling in front of the cameras, helping out some  home-owner.

"Hmm, now I need to start working on some of those carpenters. Not as much time in the spotlight, but damn do they make shirts look good." you smiled and grinned to yourself as you started making the call.

The Magic Facebook App

by Scriptboy

Albert was the star soccer player at his high school, and today was another great day for a game. The weather was nice, there was no wind and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. The sun was out and it wasn’t too warm or too cold. All the other players on the Tigers soccer team were there, dressed up in the usual uniform wearing black cleats, socks and shorts with yellow jerseys. They were playing the Rovers, who were dressed completely in red.

Albert raced down the field and stormed towards the Rovers’ goal. Chase kicked the ball nice and high towards him, just as Albert approached the goal line. The goalie wasn’t sure what Albert would do, and he just bounced on the toes, ready to jump in either direction, when Albert did the unexpected: Albert turned around, with his back facing the goal, just as the ball was hovering right above his head. Then, with amazing athleticism, he leaped into the air with great force, allowing his legs to shoot straight up as his head came down after his body spun around, effectively making his body spin upside-down in mid-air. Then, at the right moment, Albert’s right foot kicked the soccer ball into the goal at a hard, downward angle, completely catching the goalie off-guard! GOAL!

The crowd went crazy as Albert landed on his stomach. He quickly jumped to his feet to turn around, just in time to get mobbed by his jubilant teammates. He scored the first point of the match!

After the match was over, Albert wandered off the field, drinking from his water bottle, when he was greeted by a heavy set man wearing a button shirt and jeans. It was Tim, his math teacher, who worked at the school and loved to come watch his soccer games since Albert was in one of his classes.

“Good game, Albert! Congratulations!” Tim said to his student.

“Thanks, Mr. Stevens. I appreciate it!” he replied. “Can you give me a ride to my house?”

“Sure! No problem!” Tim said, as he led the soccer player to his nice Audi sedan.

“Wow… You got a nice car!” the boy said, as he got in the seat and fastened the seat belt.

“Thanks…” Tim smiled, as he started the car and slowly pulled out of the parking spot.

Albert came from a poor family where he lived with his parents and his younger, 10-year-old brother in a small apartment which was just a minute down the street from the school. Albert’s parents didn’t even have a car, so he just had to ride his bicycle to school every day. Albert didn’t mind it so much but sometimes he wished that things were better for him.

After Tim had dropped him off at his house, he went into his small bedroom, which he shared with his brother, and he logged on to his favourite website, which was Facebook.

While surfing around the Facebook website, Albert found several ads for cool new apps that he could try out and install on his own profile page. Everybody had heard of or installed the new Timeline app, and Farmville and City Ville and Castle Ville games and apps already, but he was searching for some totally new and exciting to experiment with. Then, he stumbled upon a page for a new software development company that had just released a beta version of a cool, new, magical app that allowed just about anyone to body swap anything they wanted with another Facebook user as long as that user was listed as one of their friends!

“What? Really? I want to try that!” Albert cheered, as he clicked on the “Install” link for the “Magic Facebook App” title just below the description. He just rubbed his hands together in eager anticipation of trying out this cool, new thing. Would this really work? There were already ten reviews out for the app and they all gave the app a cool 100% rating, so the app just had to be good!

Once installed, the app asked Albert for access to his own profile information, and he clicked on “Allow”.

Then, the app asked him to select one person from his “Friends” list to load their profile information. Albert scrolled down the list until he reached “Tim Stevens” and selected the check box to the left of his math teacher’s name. On the next screen, the app then loaded several items that Tim had mentioned on his profile that he owned, including his very cool Droid Ultimate cell phone, which was the latest of the latest type and model of Android cell phones that was out on the market today.

“Oh man! I hate my simple little cell phone! I would love to have Tim’s cell! Could this really work?” Albert wondered, as he clicked on the “swap” link.

Instantly, his cheap little cell phone, which lay on his desk before him, disappeared, and in his place, a big rectangular phone appeared, with the large flat screen and eight small buttons on the bottom and five buttons on the side. It also had a camera and speakers and wireless and all the other bells and whistles of a top-notch cell phone.

“Holy smoke! This thing totally works!” Albert cheered, as he picked up the ultra-cool cell phone, which showed Tim’s name and photo on it, along with all his contacts, phone numbers and email addresses. It also had all his chat histories and text messages in it as well.

“Awesome! This is like… I have total access to Tim’s accounts with this! I better install the Facebook app on here as well!” Albert cheered, as he loaded the small mobile web browser and navigated to the website to download and install the mobile version of the app for the smart phone. Within minutes, the app was downloaded and installed, and Albert was able to continue his quest for swapping more items of his with that of his math teacher, now just through his cool new smart phone!

And in the meantime, while Tim was at his house, looking at his math notes on his desk, he noticed that his cool smartphone had changed into a small, inexpensive phone. Where did that come from?

In the meantime, Albert studied the Facebook app and realized that if the app was sophisticated enough to swap cell phones, then he could also use it to swap other items as well! So, he used the app to zero in on other items that Tim had listed in his profile that he owned, and a long listing of things popped up since Tim was an avid Facebook user and he had posted quite a large album of pictures on his Facebook profile containing photos of his wife, his house, his car, his students at work, several rooms in his house, his swimming pool, his garage, his office, and more. The magic app registered all these items displayed in these photos and listed them all out in a separate window, where Albert could click on each item individually and pick and choose which item he wanted to swap, or select all items and swap everything all at once! Not only would the app allow Albert to select Tim’s material items, but his physical attributes as well!

“Gosh… Let’s try one thing at a time! First… it says here that Tim is married! So, he wears that nice little gold wedding ring around his finger… I would like to be married to his wife instead!” Albert smiled as he selected the wedding ring and clicked the “swap” button on the app on the phone’s screen.
Suddenly, a nice, golden ring appeared on Albert’s finger! The ring would have been too big for him, but it adjusted to fit around his finger so it fit him perfectly!

“Nice! Very, very nice! What else can I take?”

The app offered all kinds of material items, but it also listed some items that were not “material”, like some of Tim’s skills and experiences. One of them was Tim’s knowledge of mathematics, since Tim was the high school math teacher.

“I’m not so good at math… I hate math… so, let’s change that right now, if I’m going to become more and more like my math teacher anyway!” Albert laughed, as he selected “math knowledge” from the list and selected the “swap” button on the app.

For a brief moment, Albert became dizzy. His head was in a daze, then, he suddenly felt clear again. He blinked his eyes three times and looked straight ahead! He knew it! He knew math! He knew all of it! He knew it and he was very good at it! In fact, he knew it so well that he could teach class in it! Not only that, he could become a teacher in math if he even wanted to!

“Wow! This is getting better and better with every passing minute!” Albert laughed as he looked at the app screen on the smartphone.

Meanwhile, at his house, Tim was looking over his math notes for the next class, when he was struck by a dull headache. This was very strange for a man who never got headaches! What was going on? He decided to get up and get a drink of water.

Once he sat down at his desk and looked over his notes, he struggled to understand them. He looked over the math problems and he had a terribly hard time understanding what he had written. He had no clue what the problems were or how to even solve them. But, wasn’t he the math teacher? For the moment, it seemed like he was suffering from some form of amnesia. He felt like he had forgotten some of his math knowledge. He was feeling like one of his students, who had just learned some of the math concepts the other day. He just closed the book and the notebook and decided to brush it off. Again, he was getting confused. Things seemed really strange that day.

Back at the small house, Albert was having a ball! Knowing that he could swap small items from Tim, he decided to go for something bigger. Since Tim had given him a ride in his nice sedan, it was time for the ultimate test: the Audi.

Albert walked over to the small parking lot in front of his apartment. He saw his cheap, little bike parked there. Time for a change. He took the cell phone and searched down the list for Tim’s app until it appeared on the list. He tapped his finger on the Audi and then he tapped on the word “swap”.
Instantly, the small, old bicycle vanished from the parking spot and in its place, a beautiful, brand new, latest model Audi sedan appeared, with the keys in the ignition switch. It was now Albert’s car.

“YES! Awesome! My car! It’s mine now!”

Albert then realized that he needed a license and registration with insurance card in order to drive the card. Again, he used his finger to find the items on the list using the app on the smartphone, and he tapped the button on the screen. Suddenly, Albert reached into his jean pocket and found his wallet containing his new driver’s license with Tim’s photo ID on it and his insurance card and the registration for the Audi! Everything was there!

At that moment, Tim walks into his garage at the house, and he finds that his Audi is gone. In its place, he sees an old bicycle parked in the center of the garage. But, wait… The bike looks familiar. Isn’t this the bike that Albert always rides to school every morning?

Then Albert decided to try the biggest swap of all: He wanted to have Tim’s house while he wanted Tim to be living in his apartment! So, once again, he used the app to select the house from the list, and he tapped on the button.

Instantly, Albert was standing in the living room of Tim’s house. This was now HIS house! Meanwhile, Tim was suddenly teleported to Albert’s apartment, sitting at Albert’s small desk in his small bedroom. Tim was beginning to get scared and confused. What was going on?

Albert was becoming delirious with all these swaps! He had swapped almost everything he had with his math teacher, with the exception of his own body and his personal items! He still looked like his own self, an ordinary high school student, with the knowledge of his math teacher. Internally he had everything he needed; he just needed to “look like” his teacher now!

He tapped on “physical attributes” for Tim and he selected everything, including height (180cm) and weight (95kg) which would be swapped with his own height (170cm) and weight (60kg). He also selected other items like cock length, hair color, eye color, skin color, shoe size, muscles, skills, mass, and everything else, so that the swap could be complete. Finally, he tapped on the “swap” button on the app, and he set the phone down on the desk to that he could quickly walk over to the mirror where he could witness the changes as they happen.

Albert begins to grow taller as he stands before the mirror. His flat stomach grows larger and his long, slender arms begin to fill out. His black hair turns blond and a pair of glasses appears on his nose. His face becomes chubbier as well, as his torso becomes bigger and heavier. Hair begins to sprout all over his body, including his chest, his chin, and his arm pits. He also gains a fine coating of hair on his legs. Speaking of which, his short but muscular athletic legs, which were muscular due to many hours of playing and training for soccer, now fill out and become the legs belonging to a middle-aged man who just happens to be the high school math teacher. His feet grow a few sizes bigger as well, and he is now wearing dress shoes instead of sneakers. Finally, Albert ages from 15 years old to 35 years old! He grows 20 years older in a matter of seconds! He is a grownup now! An adult! No longer a teenager!

As he turns around and looks in his closet, his wardrobe has also changed. All his soccer clothes have gone! He now has dress shoes and slacks; he has button shirts and ties, along with nice, expensive clothing. He has far fewer t-shirts, hoodies, and sweaters! No more cheap clothing that only the students would wear in school! He was a teacher now!

Meanwhile, back in the small apartment, Tim was confused when he was suddenly overcome by the same changes that Albert had just experienced, but in reverse! Tim started to regress all of the sudden, becoming younger in a matter of minutes! He was 35 and he suddenly found his body becoming younger and younger as the seconds ticked off the clock. His hair receded and became darker as his skin became smooth. His arms became shorter as well as his legs. Suddenly, he became more muscular as well! His legs were shorter but his calves and quads bulged with young, powerful muscle, like that of a runner or a young soccer player!

Tim was suddenly fifteen years old, and in his mind he was suddenly in love with the idea of going back to high school! He was a student again, and he just loved hanging out with friends, chatting online, playing sports, and hanging out with his teammates. He would spend evenings studying and playing video games as well as doing stuff on his little inexpensive cell phone, which he got for his birthday. All his previous memories of being a math teacher were now gone! He was a kid again, and he had the coolest math teacher, a big guy with glasses and blond hair named Tim Stevens. Lastly, after school, Tim now named Albert, would go on his little laptop and surf the web. His favourite website was Facebook, where he could catch up with all his friends and classmates. He would also download the coolest apps and try them out. Until one day, when he came across the “Magic Facebook App…”
The end

You can read Scriptboy's other stories at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/meta/

“The Statement of X--- Y--- Z---" Part 5

by Seuzz

I was telling you last time about the start of my high school years. I think we can cover them quickly.

I started high school in a new place, a little town in Nebraska. I don't know why my dad chose to move, or why he chose to move there. He didn't have a job there. He never had a job.

I've no idea, but we were never seriously short of money. He would disappear for months on end. My mom would go on relief. We would scrape by. Then my dad would show up again. I think he would have money with him, because things would get a better for us. Food would be better. He would get a new car. It would be used, but it would be new for us.

I didn't have much to do with my parents. My mom was a hopeless alcoholic by the time I was out of elementary school, and when my dad wasn't around she and I didn't have much to do with each other. I'd make my own meals, keep to myself in my room. After we moved to Nebraska, my dad, when he came back to town, would pretend to have an interest in me. He'd check up on my schoolwork, ride me hard to make sure I was going to school. But it never lasted long. Eventually he'd forget about me. I could always tell when he was about to take off again, because he'd move into a motel room a few weeks before going off again.

Mm, yes, the thought occurred to me. But I never talked to him about crawling. I think I was afraid of the answer, whether "Yes" or "No." See, if he didn't know about crawling, and I told him what I could do, then what would he do? He might regard me as a monster, and try to do something to me. Or he might decide to use me, to force me to crawl certain people so he could get money or something. I didn't want to do that, not when I was a teenager. I mean, I would have liked to have money, to have the things that other people had, but not as a job, and not to bring stuff back to him. And if the answer was "Yes" ...

Well, it would explain a lot, wouldn't it? It would explain where I got the ability, it would explain why he was always going off and returning with money--he was himself crawling people, but doing it out of sight, in strange cities, where no one would know him. If I told him what I could do, and he was doing it too, he might be able to help me with it, to train me. It's likely he would have made me a partner. But I didn't want to have anything to do with him.

Oh, God, yes, wouldn't that have been lovely? I'm being sarcastic, in case you can't tell from my tone. To crawl my own father. Ychh!

Alright, the thought occurred to me, but only as a method for finding out what he was up to. But I didn't, because, again, what if it was something he could do? Could a crawler crawl another crawler? If he could do it too, if that's what he was doing, then I'd be exposing myself and my ability to him, and I didn't want to do that. And if he wasn't a crawler-- I didn't like him, and I certainly didn't want to be inside him, even for a little while. Snooping was the only reason to crawl him, and it would be very risky with little possible payoff. Let him have his own life and his own secrets. I'd keep my own.

If he was a crawler, he was better than me, wasn't he? He never got caught. Or, I don't know, maybe he did? Is that why you were on the lookout for me? You knew there was another out there?

Yes, I'm very bad at winnowing information out of others. I have my own way of learning what I want to know, and it's left me very unskilled at other methods.

But if you asked me to speculate, I'd say he wasn't a crawler. If he was, he'd have tried harder to get me to reveal myself. I think he was probably just a grifter. Maybe he had another family, a richer family, somewhere else. It's a big country, and back then it was much easier to maintain a double life.

As for where we wound up, it was a shitty little town in Nebraska, a rural community, a place where everyone knew everyone else, where it was the same few hundred families and had been for decades. Newcomers didn't fit in, especially in school, where the kids had their longstanding cliques and habits. I was a novelty for a few days. If I'd been good at sports or just had decent social skills, I guess I could have found a place and fit in. As it was ...

Naturally, I thought about trying to fit in by finding someone to crawl, like I had with Tommy. But there were no opportunities. It had been pure luck that I'd found Tommy, and after a few weeks I really regretted not staying in Tommy when I'd had the chance. And when I did take a chance it backfired horribly.

His name was Robin. He was a sophomore and I was a freshman. He was a bully, but I hadn't been on his radar. He hadn't been on mine. But like with Tommy, I caught him alone in the gym. I leaped at him. He caught sight of me as I lunged at him, but I managed to knock him back, and once I had my hands on his face he couldn't do anything. A few minutes later I was able to stand up in my new body.

It wasn't much to brag on. He was a big kid, one of those corn-fed farm boys. Husky. He had a squashed up face that fell naturally into a squint or a leer or sneer. His arms and neck and face were tanned red, but everything else was a pasty white. He had zits, bad.

My dad was out of town again by that point, so I had the run of my new home for as long as I wanted, but I didn't stay in him long. It wasn't pleasant. He had a big family, and though I had his instincts, I didn't like the horseplay, the pushing, the sibling-on-sibling tortures. School wasn't any better. Him and his friends were crude and boring. They all chewed tobacco, took shop classes, worked on machinery, talked about the hogs they had to take care of. I had something like fun for one afternoon, pushing others around, but even he didn't have a lot of fun doing it. He only did because he was bored.

I should have used him to get into a better place, but I hadn't figured out how to use my talent properly, not yet. So I just ditched him.

But like I said, he'd caught sight of me before I took him, so after I was out of him--

I don't know what he thought had happened to him. I'm sure he didn't tell anyone that I'd managed to possess him, even if he recognized that's what happened. But he had a grudge against me from that day on, and he got a lot of others to help out. I kept to myself anyway, so I easily got a reputation as a weirdo, and him and his friends nailed it in place.

Three years of absolute hell followed. I was a faggot, a homo. I guess that's what Robin had told everyone, that I'd made a pass at him in the gym. The details of what they did to me aren't important. Him and his friends weren't ingenious, but they were persistent.

The only friend I had was a kid named Lee. Another shy, loner type. I don't think we really liked each other. We didn't have anything in common. He was a good student and I wasn't. He studied music and I didn't. I read science-fiction and fantasy books, and he didn't. I hate to say it, but I think the only reason he hung around me was--

Well, we were hanging out one night, late, and he told me he thought he was gay.

Mmm, I suppose if you tell another guy you're gay, it's in the same way you tell a girl that she's pretty. You're hoping it leads somewhere. Maybe you're not even hoping, you're just hoping it opens up a path, and at the end of that path is ... the conclusion of a dream. But you can pass it off casually if the other person doesn't reciprocate. On this night, we were sharing confidences. Exchanging secrets. Sharing the really deep, important stuff. He told me about his dreams and ambitions. I told him about my home life. He told me some other boring shit about himself, I told him more about myself. Eventually it reaches a pitch where you feel like you can drop some pretty big bombs and it won't freak the other person out. I'm sure it was enough for him that he got to unburden himself. And since I was a guy regularly tagged as a fag, that made it easier for him to unloose himself. So he told me.

And then I made the mistake of telling him my big secret. Yeah, I told him I could crawl people. Described how it worked and what I'd done.

Skeptical? You know, I could have handled it if he were just skeptical. If he'd just said "Prove it," I could have asked him to let me demonstrate it on him. But no, he had to get creeped out. Jesus Christ, you'd think a gay teenager living in rural Nebraska--and this was back in the days when everyone pretended Paul Lynde was just a funny guy with a fussy manner! You'd think he'd have a little sympathy, especially after I'd shown him sympathy. But no, he shut down the conversation real quick. And we didn't talk or hang out much after that. After that, he thought I was a weirdo too.

Oh, please. No, I don't feel like I'm a victim of bigotry. Being bigoted against me is like being bigoted against pickpockets or serial killers. I do what I do, and I do it with my eyes open. If people fear and despise me--if you fear and despise me--I'd say you have every reason to.

Yeah, I got back at him. Eventually. Indirectly.

It was a two-fer, or a dividend. It came after I found a way to get out of high school.

See, I hadn't given any thought to what I'd do after graduation. I wasn't cut out for college. By the time I was a senior, I knew that whatever I did after high school, I would do it as someone else. That someone else turned out to be Peter Isaacson.

He was one of the jocks. Football player, wrestler, basketball player, etcetera. Not because he was an all-around athlete, but because in a small school all the jocks did all the sports. He was a decent guy, never made my life hard. Had a girlfriend, had prospects. He'd be going to college, a state school, but he wasn't going to be going directly into the family business, not yet.

Anyway, my senior year I was working in the library as a school aide. One day I'm working after school--something I never did--because I'd gotten behind in my library chores. Isaacson comes in to do some studying. There's hardly anyone else around. I see him disappear into the one blind corner in the place. And just like it had been with Tommy, I got a strong feeling, that this was a chance that I should take. So I quietly followed him, took some books with me, like I needed to reshelve them. He glanced back at me, turned back to the book in his hand. I looked over my shoulder real quick, to make sure the coast was clear. And then I took him from behind. He sank back in my arms as I liquefied. It was silent, swift, powerful. I got back on my feet quickly, looked around again. No one had seen. I put his book back on the shelf and hustled off to the bathroom to take stock.

I had to check out my new home, because I knew it wasn't going to be like the other times. The other times I was just experimenting, or taking vacations, or playing around. This time there was no going back. I remember gripping the sides of the sink--he had powerful arms and hands--and stared into the mirror. He had sandy hair, close cropped. A strong face, with a square chin. Pale blue eyes. I just kept staring at my new face, even as I slowly pulled his letterman jacket on over his t-shirt and hitched his backpack onto my shoulder. I didn't do anything to fight the hard-on I was getting. He was--I was--going to see his girlfriend after leaving school, so why force it down? Another guy came in, said something to me, I said something back, totally in character. Trudged slowly back out into the hallway. I didn't do anything to clean up the remnants of my old life. Left my locker and all my stuff without looking back. There was none of it I wanted.

That was just before Christmas. His family drove up to Omaha to see his grandparents, uncles and aunts and cousins. We played football in the snow, watched the games. Exchanged presents. I took my littler cousins for car trips, played with the babies. Of course, no one spotted any change in Peter. When we got back home I hooked up again with my girlfriend, to our mutual satisfaction. Worked on college essays.

It helped that he had ambitions. He was going to try out for the university football team, but he was going to be a business major, was already thinking about a family. I had lots to occupy myself, including the team sports I was now doing. Robin, he hadn't any ambitions, maybe because he was just a farm boy, and he'd only been a sophomore at the time.

Robin had been a year ahead, so he'd graduated already, though I still saw him around town. But it would have been out of character for Peter to do anything to my regular tormentors. Still, since I was one of the top guys, I found subtle ways of putting them down. Hurt them a little harder out on the practice field, things like that. As for Lee--

Looking back, I'm not proud of what I did to him, though I've done worse to people since. Usually they deserved it, though. But with Lee-- I waited until we were close to graduation, and then I started cozying up to him. Went out of my way to be friendly to him. Arranged a couple of times to have a burger alone with him. Nothing weird. I just pretended to be interested in him and in his interests. He was flattered. Probably aroused. At any rate, he didn't demur when I invited him out late one evening for a drive.

It was in my early graduation present. A used pick up truck. I'd have to make the monthly payments on the loan, but my dad--my new dad, who was an honest, hard-working sort--had made the down payment for me. We drove out far into the country, then took off across a field and buried ourselves in the middle of it. I had a six pack, but Lee didn't drink. I had a few, not because I needed them, but to make it look ... plausible. It was dark when we stopped and climbed into the back, to lay back and look at the stars and talk.

After some chitchat, I told him I knew he was gay. He jumped a little, but I told him I was okay with that. I told him I wanted him to be happy. He shrugged. I told him I wasn't gay, but I wondered what it was like. He got kind of tongue-tied. I asked him to show me what guys who were gay did with each other.

That did freak him out. He had to tell me he didn't know, he'd never done it. I asked him what he wanted to do. He didn't say anything. I asked him if it was like being with a girl. By that point, I could tell, he was trembling. So I just said, "Let me show you what I do with Christie."

I drew him close to me. He was very stiff and rigid, but not in his pants. I rubbed his shoulders and arms to make him relax. I told him the girl usually did the same thing, asked him if he wanted to. He fumbled at me. I'm sure he thought this was the lead in to some horrible prank. Which it was, though the punch line wasn't one he could see coming.

Gradually, I wore him down, got him to unwind. We ran our hands over each other, though I had to start him off by guiding him, placing my hands over his. We kissed and nuzzled. It was a warm night, so neither of us got cold as the clothes came off. We kept it a hands-only affair. I put him on his back and slowly brought him to climax, the way Christie had with Peter--and with me--so many times. Still, he couldn't bring himself to reciprocate, so I had to jack myself off while he sat on my lap and watched, lightly holding my hands and forearms and elbows while I did it. When it was over, we held each other for a little while, and then drove back to town.

When we got back to his place I got out of the truck, but I didn't follow him up the walk. I just pulled him close before letting go of him. I peered down at him--I was half a head taller--and let my voice get stony. I asked him if he remembered me--the former me, the kid who'd disappeared. He said of course he did. I said, "You told him you were gay. That's how I knew." He said, "He told you?" I said, "He told you, and then he told you about himself. He told you he could crawl into people and take over their bodies, right?" He made kind of a face and muttered, "Something like that." Then I leaned in and said, "You know how he disappeared? What happened to him?" He got kind of a scared look. Probably thought I was gonna say that I'd killed the kid and buried him. Instead, I said, "Well, you didn't believe him, but guess what. He crawled inside me. Or I crawled inside Peter. Doesn't matter which way you put it. I just wanted you to know that it's real." And I remember jabbing him hard in the chest. "And what we did tonight," I said, "Peter never would have done that. And we'll never do it with you again. Too bad you didn't believe me, back then. Too bad you didn't help me get into Peter back then, or into someone else. We could've done a lot more of it, with whoever you wanted."

He took a step back, and stared. Then I got back in the truck and drove off.

I saw him for a few more weeks, at school, but totally blew him off.

Caption This! (3rd March)

**THE STORIES ARE IN THE COMMENTS**

Thanks to samgioba for the chat & helping choose today’s picture.

VOTE IT UP! Thanks to the Authors

Click on the authors names
below to see their work!

Well, here we are at the other end of February, and what a journey!

I hope you've all enjoyed the stories that have been posted over the past month! I think everyone must have found at least a couple they enjoyed.

I'd like to personally thank all the authors for their hard work;

• Nemo
• Seuzz
• Curious
• Lord Wilmore
• Warhawk
• Slick Psych
• M.Krug
• Gary Travis
• Erick S.
• Sean Mitchell (Me!)

This is the important bit; to say thanks to
these guys I want you to VOTE UP this post,
giving these guys props BIG TIME!

Please share something back to the guys that worked so hard; being creative to a schedule isn't easy I can assure you!

LETS SEE THOSE VOTES BIG TIME, IT WILL HELP DECIDE IF WE DO IT AGAIN LATER IN THE YEAR...

“Rivals”

by Slick Psych

“Dude, take a look at this.”

“What?”

“It’s a really weird website called ‘Choose your Own Change…’”

“Yeah?” said Dalton as he feigned his interest in Blane’s new discovery. Dalton leaned over on the couch towards Blane’s notebook. “Whoa… this is about male transformations…. like becoming another dude.” The 6’2” meaty giant stood up and adjusted his flannel over-shirt. “That’s just creepy dude. Taking over someone else’s body. Is that like some fan-fiction site or something?”

Blane smiled inauspiciously to his friend, picking up subliminal vibes that Dalton was obviously uncomfortable; Blane had suspected that he’d be. Blane knew that he had to work slyly.

“Yeah, it’s unique… but don’t tell me that you’ve never wondered what it was like to be someone else.”

“No, I haven’t actually. I’ve got the good life right here.”

“Well no arguments there but still…” Blane looked up and acted as though he had an epiphany: “Hey! What about Brent?”

“What about Brent?” asked Dalton, becoming annoyed.

“I remember how you frequently competed with him in prep school and then in college, dude. About everything too… academics, wrestling... the ladies… He always seemed to irk you because he would always be an equal match.”

“So what’s your point?” Dalton asked insincerely then continued: “That because he managed to outshine me a couple of times I wanted to trade places with him?”

“Just sayin’ dude. Surely you must’ve wondered what it was like to be him.”

“Can’t say that I did.” Dalton crossed his massive arms and puffed his chest out a little.

Blane fell silent and just stared at his computer; pretending as though he felt sorry for broaching the subject. Dalton stood perpendicular to Blane, his body obviously tense. Dalton muscular torso was bouncing up and down because he was breathing heavily… almost as if he were stressed that they were talking about his long time rival. After an awkward three minutes of silence, Dalton smiled.

“You have a sick mind dude.” Dalton finally chuckled, sat back down next to Blane and stretched his long legs in front of his massive frame. He brought his 15” arms up behind his head crossing his fingers to the back of his palms and looked contemplatively up at the ceiling but staring at nothing in particular.

“If I did want to swap with Brent, it’d be to sabotage him.” Dalton said.

Blane let out an amused “hmph.”

“Yeah… you know… maybe get hammered before a match. Make him fail a test or two.”

Blane “hmphed” again.

“But you know the problem with body-swaps?” Dalton asked raising his bushy brown eyebrow and his piercing green eyes looking squarely at Blane. “The problem is that you actually swap.”

“Yeah, so?”

Dalton continued:,“Which means he’d be me and could implement the same offences… maybe eve worse.”

Waxing philosophically, Dalton stared back up at the ceiling: “A good rival stays a step ahead of you offensively that’s true… but an honorable rival is like a brother to you. You compete because it’s natural. It gives meaning to both your lives.”

“Awww… you’re thinking to hard about all this. I just said all that to paint you a picture of what you could do in his body….”

Dalton looked over at his friend and raised an eyebrow. “Gah you have some problems. I’d never wanna use his dick.”

“Not even once? Sex as another man… hell even masturbating as another man… would be interesting.”

“To you. Can’t even imagine forcing a woman to go down on Brent’s thing. Hahah, God forbid she’d have to bear the seed of an ugly son of a gun like him.” He laughed. “Poor Elana.”

“So it sounds like you still harbor feelings of rivalry towards the guy.”

Dalton smiled. “Those were the days, in retrospect… being evenly matched… haha even in charm I suppose.”

“If you could do it again… be his rival… would you?”

Dalton smirked. “Sure.”

Blane looked on his webcam and saw that ‘Ian’ was giving him the sign. He acted quickly: “Hey man, my computer just froze again. What’s the combo you press to get it to close the programs?”

“Told you that all that porn would freeze it you loser.” Blane handed the computer to Dalton. He looked down and saw two kids on the webcam.

On the other side of the country: “O.K. Allen. Look at this shit” said ‘Ian.’ Allen, who had been looking off in the other direction, quickly turned his head as ‘Ian’ looked away.

‘Allen’ blinked and shook his head. “Ouch man it just feels like my head was hit wif a bat!” ‘Allen’s’ voice sounded off. He looked to his right and saw the kid that he had seen on the webcam was not smiling at him.

“You o.k. dog?” the kid asked. ‘Allen’ noticed that the kid had a deep voice for someone who looked to be about 17. Before the new ‘Allen’ could answer ‘Ian’ immediately did a thumbs up to Blane and quickly signed out of his camera and shut down the computer.

“Who are you?” were the first words that came out of ‘Allen’s’ mouth. He realized that his voice was a higher pitch and instinctively he didn’t like it. ‘Allen’ looked down and noticed that he was shirtless. He held his hands out in front of him and realized that his skin was now a light brown; and that instead of his bulk muscle he now had more lean definition. He felt his abs and chest. He noticed that his equipment downstairs liked this stimulation. Still in shock, “Allen’ felt the hair on his head; he had never had a afro before… not that he could grow one before anyway. He noticed that his pants were sagging. “What the hell?” He pulled them up to his waist.

‘Allen’ looked over ‘Ian’s’ shoulder and saw a full length mirror. He stood in shock. The face staring back at him couldn’t be more than 17 years old. More shocking was the fact that he now had slightly darker skin and an ornate tattoo on his pectoral muscles that set nicely below his collar bones. Allen was a skinny boy, but he was still cut like a rock. He noticed his ears and his cheekbones… a different type of facial structure than what he had previously had, and this little fact alone pushed more blood into his groin. He noticed he was wearing shorts that sagged. He looked down at his feet… noticeably smaller than his previous size 14. He guessed himself to be about a size 10. He was wearing black ankle socks and noticed that his calf muscles were unusually toned. He figured that this must be a soccer player’s body from the athletic build and strong hairy calves. He rubbed his face… just impressed that he was seeing through another young man’s golden brown eyes.

“Done groping yoself pretty boi?” ‘Ian’ asked in an amused tone.

“Who da hell are you?” This higher pitched voice was slightly annoying him… but everything else… well… not so much. As ‘Ian” moved closer to ‘Allen’ that’s when the man formerly known as ‘Dalton’ realized that he was now a twin.

“Your brotha, Ian. Gah your such a foo’, Allen.” Ian bit his lip and began to playfully punch at Allen. Instinctively, Allen began to fight back. Allen was tap-boxing with Ian as if he had been doing it for years. This felt too natural… he mused.

Ian cut it off when he lightly smacked his brother on his cheek, indicating that playtime was over.

Somehow, the casual rivalry had calmed Allen down. Ian continued: “You get your wish, Allen, and it’s just like old times when we used to live in Connecticut.”

Allen’s eyes went big. “Bruh… what about our old lives.”

“Do you honestly even care?” Ian asked as he looked into the mirror and stood next to his brother.

Allen looked down at himself… his body. Not only was this a chance to compete with his rival again… but it was a chance to live life from a totally different perspective. Ian noticed his brother processing what had happened and continued to explain.

“But fo real FYI I the old me agreed to this months ago and told me dat his lil bro… which would be you… would be more dan interested in dis too… after he tried it out o’ course… kinda like I thot u would need too, too. So if afta a week you ain’t convinced… you two can go back.”

“And you two?” asked Allen with more concern than acceptance.

Ian smiled coyly and confidently. Though he was wearing a different body with a different age and race, Allen recognized that face. Ian confessed: “No matta who I am, I neva quit. You kno dat well. ‘Sides, Brent likes his life and his body… always wanted ta be a father n a husband now he is. Da advantages were obvious: Bangin ‘wife, top tier job, the bod of a successful man he ain’t complainin…”

Allen sat on his bed.

Ian went on: “And also FYI I’m 2 mintutes olda dan u so by nature I’m already betta.”

Allen was going thru his memories. He lay on his back and stared up at the ceiling.

“Yo, u up for some bball. All dis sitting here regrettin’ things is for old men.” Ian asked.

Allen, for fun, decided to adopt the vernacular that his brother was using: “Imma love to show u up n dat alone is enuf fo me… but what about Dalton?”

Ian laughed, grabbed his basketball from the floor, and dribbled a little… trying to show off that he had been practicing getting ready for this day. Ian said: “The new Brent told me that the old Allen was a lil… umm… on the other team if yous get my drift. Now, ol’ buddy Blane is a lil closet case himself. I figure dat the two will hit it off… as friends an’ who know wat else in time.”

Allen immediately understood that Blane had been all too game for this swap. He shrugged it off. It didn’t matter who he was as long as he had a chance to finally settle the score. This time around, he’d be better.

Allen stood up, his pants sagging just a little: “Hell yea. I can’t wait to cream yo creamy ass.”

Ian let out a fake laugh and said: “Yo, dat’s lame son I see you gonna have to work on your lines….”

Ian knew that Allen had accepted the new challenge.

Junior Coach

I had never seen Cody so happy; he held the trophy high, teammates and family stood around bursting with pride.

It was true, the coach had seen potential in Cody just under a year ago. Sure he was a bit rough around the edges but coach knew it was just a matter of moulding the kid, making him just like the coach was when he was his age.

The coach still had all the trophies and medals on his office wall, not to mention the framed newspaper cuttings.

He was in the finals, up against Weisenski from Eastman; a tough heavy set guy 185ib with a mop of brown hair and cool blue eyes. The match was pretty even matched for the first couple of rounds but coach's stamina was always his downfall, and the reason he tried so hard to finish the match within three rounds.

Coach was sweating, it was the end of the fourth and Weisenski had him in a "Banana Splits", Weisenski growled and put on the pressure and then the coach felt something snap and that was the end of his wrestling career.

He recovered but was never supple enough to compete seriously again, although he was grateful when Westside offered him the job as coach some time later.

He'd been teaching the guys at Westside for a good ten years, he'd seen a lot of good kids, but none as good as himself at their age. That was until Cody came along.

Cody was a perfect wrestler, short, stocky build with something coach never had; stamina. It didn't matter if it was the first or the tenth round Cody always gave the same. With all these attributes, one was missing; his commitment to the sport.

Leaving one evening after practice Coach pulled Cody into his office by the scruff of the neck.

"Hey!" Cody protested, but coach just ignored him practically throwing him into the chair at his desk. He slowly walked around to the other side of the desk resting his hands on the desk, he leaned over towering above Cody.

"Cody, you've got so much potential, and… and…" He slams the desk with an open palm, "you're just throwing it away. I've tried to show you, explain but you just don't appear to be interested."

"Yeah, I appreciate what you're doing for me coach but…" He starts to blush, "It's complicated."

"Oh, oh… a romantic interest?"

"Yeah, kind of - they want to see me more, and I want to see so much more of them. I've not felt like this before, they're so special to me."

Coach throws his arms up into the air, "I give up! Of course you realise this leaves me only one choice."

He turns to the filing cabinet behind him and takes out what looks like a copper ball; it's dull matt golden colour with bands of bright green. He traces a pattern on the surface with his finger and green bands start to gently glow.

"Here!" He throws it to Cody who naturally catches it, suddenly he feels trapped and unable to move. "You see Cody, I think you have so much potential and I still think I'm the one to… help you." Coach gives a sly grin.

Walking over coach grasped the ball ensuring that his hands were over Cody's. The ball glowed brightly and then faded.

Cody blinked, and the ball dropped to the table with a heavy thud. Seconds later coach blinked and brought a meaty hand up to he forehead rubbing it gently. He looked down, jacket, blue shirt, and black undershirt.

"What the fuck is going on?" Coach stammered.

Cody simply looked up at the giant of a man, "Easy, just take it easy 'coach'. I'm going to win this not just for you," Cody stabs at his own chest. "But also me ME!"

"How did this happen?" Coach looks at the ball.

"It's a transference device, a way of channelling souls from one body to another. I got it from a magician, he didn't know how to work it but I found some scripts whilst I was in Tibet. With my commitment to the game and you're stamina and body we're going to the top!"

"Wait, what about me?" Questions coach, "I don't want to be you for the rest of my life."

"Look kid, once we've won the championships we'll be done and we can swap back."

"Fuck NO! that's like 10 months away!"

"Kid, you don't have a choice. I'm the only one that knows how to work the ball, if you don't cooperate then I can guarantee you won't be getting it back!"

"Now, I need to clear your calendar of any commitments."

Coach's eyes wide, "No, you can't…"

Cody's eyes dart left and right, like reading memories. "Oh, I need to talk with ‘Alex’? and there's me thinking..."

Coach could only concede defeat.

Ten months later, as we know Cody was holding the trophy surrounded by his teammates and family although there was someone else there as well, a scout - he whispered into Cody's ear and smiled. Was it a offer Cody just couldn't refuse?

“The Statement of X--- Y--- Z---" Part 4

by Seuzz

I wish you'd stop trying to discover "deep" reasons for why I was doing what I was doing. If you've got a theory--

Okay, that's an interesting idea. But you can make up any reason, if you've a mind to. Look, the fact is that I was twelve, thirteen years old when I got tangled up with Tommy DiMarco. I didn't have any "plans" or ideas, not at that age. When you're twelve you're starting to figure out who you are. In my case, maybe you can say "figuring out who I was" had a double meaning. Was I going to be myself or was I going to be Tommy DiMarco?

Yeah, I thought about staying in Tommy permanently, and there was a moment when I put the question to myself. And maybe if I had decided to stay as Tommy, everything would have turned out differently for me. Maybe we wouldn't be having this conversation. But I didn't, and that was my decision.

Well, to explain that, I have to explain everything that led up to it.

I told you last time that I had used him to get close to two girls, one I was interested in and one he was interested in. I don't know how long I waited before I returned to him, but I know I got impatient. We only had a few classes together, and I couldn't really watch him from outside. I had to get back inside him to get any news. My chance, when it came, happened the same way as the other times. He was late for gym, and I caught him at his locker. I think I remember wondering about that, but maybe I'm coloring my recollections. Anyway, there he was, half dressed, standing patiently at his locker with his back to me. And so I crawled him again.

I found out that he'd stayed close to Kathy Eason, that he was riding his bike home with her most days. But he hadn't given any more indications that he was interested in her. Once I was in him, I kept it up, of course, but kept playing things cool. Sara Durbin was another matter. Tommy had dropped her, because he was still scared of her. He'd tried a couple of times to continue that bickering I'd started between them, but he'd run off almost as soon as she returned fire. So I threw myself into with a vengeance. This time I was inside him for a few days, and had lots of time to chase her down and tease her. I pushed him hard at her, and at Kathy, and then I exited him, again at the gas station. Partly this was to see what he'd do, and also because I needed to get back home again.

To deal with my mom, I just told her that I had friends I was hanging out with and sometimes spending the night. I promised I would call her if it happened again, but she didn't seem to much care. For the school I forged a letter as insurance. It was a note saying I had chicken pox and that Tommy would be collecting my homework assignments for me. I was already planning on making an extended stay inside him.

But I was still nervous enough about taking such a step that I stayed away from him for days at a time, and when I did crawl him I'd stay inside him for only a day and a night. We fell into a pattern. I noticed that his tardiness to gym was becoming a regular thing, and that he'd be very slow about leaving the changing room. When I found him, he'd be standing at his locker with his back turned, looking for all the world like he was waiting for me.

I found out he wasn't doing much of anything when I wasn't inside him. He'd go into a holding pattern around Kathy and Sara. I had to push him. I was happy to. He wouldn't do anything without me, and the two girls, like the others, ignored me when I was being myself. But together, Tommy and I had a lot of fun with them.

And Tommy, I finally realized, felt the same way. A month or two after I'd started crawling him, I hurried into the locker room after him, and tripped. Made a big racket as I went down. I looked up in a panic. But he didn't turn around, except that his head jerked a little. Of course he'd heard me, and he's started to turn, but he'd caught himself. He just stood there, looking very tense, with his head slightly cocked. I looked up at him from the floor, breathing heavily. And then he turned back and bent his head to peer inside his locker, and didn't move. My heart was hammering, and I swallowed, and I crept up to him. I hesitated as I reached around him. I put one hand over his mouth without touching it, and the other around his torso. I paused, half expecting him to yell or turn around and punch me, but he didn't. And when I closed my arms around him, I felt him trembling. Then I was back inside him.

You'd think I could tell exactly what he knew and exactly what he was thinking, wouldn't you? But it doesn't work that way. If I'm inside you, thinking with your brain, am I thinking my thoughts or yours? And how would I tell the difference?

But it's the same with memory. As soon as I'm inside someone, their memories become mine. They feel just like mine. It's very hard for me to tell the difference between my memories and theirs. Oh, there are some ways of telling. If Tommy and I saw the same thing while I was outside him, I'll remember both perspectives, and know which one was which. If it's a memory of something I know I didn't experience, I'll know it's my memory and not his. But when you try to remember what you're thinking-- That's not something that connects to something external, so it's very hard to be sure if it's a memory of something he was thinking or a memory of something I was thinking. It's like with intentions. If I'm inside you and I decide to go to the movies, whose decision is it: yours or mine? Well, it's mine, because I'm in control, but is it a decision that comes from inside me, or is it just me acting like you would act? Memories and intentions, from the inside, are like mirror images of each other. An intention is an anticipatory memory of what you want to happen; a memory is the pretence that what happened is what you wanted to happen. So a lot of times I can't tell which thoughts genuinely belong to the person I'm crawling, and which ones are just the ones I need or want to maintain the pretence.

Anyhow, to answer your question: I knew what was happening to him, and so he knew in a general sense what was happening to him. As for how he felt about it-- Was he pleased? He felt happy when I was inside him, but that could just have been me being happy to be inside him. I only had the evidence of his behavior--the way he waited for me--to tell me that he was ... not unhappy.

Okay, to return to the story. That afternoon was the start of my longest sojourn inside him. The next morning I dropped that letter off at the front office, and then I spent three weeks inside him. And there was drama.

The first thing was that his friends had started noticing the way he acted around Kathy, and they started teasing him. I shrugged it off, got in sham fights, bragged that the girls liked me more than they liked them. I bullied a friend who claimed to have some porn into sharing it. It wasn't even real porn. We all started in earnest to swap theories about sex and the proper way to go about getting it. I was shameless and could afford to be brave, and quickly figured out I was getting a reputation as a guy who knew what was what.

I also improved my standing--our standing--by getting mixed up with Kim-- Oh, what was her name? Kim Thompson. She was one of Kathy's friends. I was over at Kathy's house and Kim was there. Kathy left to get something, and Kim started goading me, asking if I was serious about her friend. I shrugged. She asked if I had kissed Kathy. I said I hadn't. She asked if I was scared to. So I kissed Kim. She got very smug with Kathy after that, and I found out the next day that she'd told Kathy what I'd done. Kathy got upset with me and was cold for a few days. Kim tried getting between us. I went off with her alone and got her to show me her breasts. I touched them, played with them. I bragged about it afterward with the guys, and then it was Kim's turn to be upset with me. Sara even got dragged in. She seemed in a bad mood while I was joshing with her, and she called me a creep, said she'd heard what I'd done with Kim. I said I liked her because she was too smart to act like Kim. She got pissed, but I could tell I'd impressed her with that reply. She started looking at me differently after that. And Kim and Kathy stopped being friends.

Like I said, drama. I had a grand time, pushing, teasing, hinting, coaxing, leading them on and dropping them, picking them up again, keeping them off balance. It was a high wire act, but I didn't care if I fell because, after all, it wasn't me who'd hit the pavement.

That happened over the course of three weeks, and then I went home when I couldn't drag it out any longer. I expected to catch hell, but things had really gone to shit while I was away. My mom barely acknowledged my return, and if the school had been in contact with her, she didn't say anything about it.

After that, though, I mostly restricted my crawling to weekends. I'd take Tommy on Friday afternoons and relinquish him on Monday mornings. Tommy was getting the hang of things, or he was skating on my successes, because I was picking up more girls to juggle. One Friday I found out I was expected to sneak into a slumber party, which I did. I kept them all off balance by keeping my hands off them. Their hands were all over me, though. They gave me a makeover, put me in makeup and a dress and a nightgown. They pulled me this way and that. They gave me different hair styles. The following Monday most of the girls who'd been there weren't talking to each other. The guys started getting jealous, too. They heard about my little experiment in transvestism, and I got teased mercilessly. I put them in their place by giving lots of details about who was touching me and where that night. I got in a fistfight with one guy, but Tommy was athletic and had started working out, and I won real quick.

So I was having fun, up until two months before the end of the school year. That's when my dad showed up again. Maybe the school had gotten in touch with him, but I came home one Monday to find him waiting for me. My mom wasn't around--probably they'd had a hard fight and he'd driven her off temporarily. Anyway, he yelled at me, demanded to know what I'd been up to on all those weekends when I was away, why I was missing so much school, who I was hanging around with. I had more self-confidence by this point, and just hurled his own absences back at him. He hit me, sent me to my room. I went out the window, went looking for Tommy, but couldn't find him, went back home before I was missed.

The next day my dad said he was pulling me from school, that we were all moving to another town. I'd be out of school until the start of the next year. I took some final exams at the school and did well enough that they gave me whatever credit would let me pick up at the new school, wherever that was going to be.

The last time I saw Tommy, in the gym locker, I came real close to crawling into him and staying there. That was the first time I was waiting for him. He came in, and he stopped cold when he saw me. I couldn't look him in the eye, just glanced over at him, and went back to slowly changing. I think he also flinched, and also crossed slowly to his locker. He got undressed real fast, but then just stood at his locker, as usual. He was waiting for me, I could tell.

And I chickened out. I had a good life when I was inside him. I liked his family. His dad had a temper, but at least he was around. Tommy had good friends, he was popular, and had gotten really popular since we'd started ... hanging out together, so to speak. I tried thinking what the future would be like if I stayed with him. There'd be the rest of the year, after that high school. I didn't know what that would be like. It was just a big blank, stretching in front of me. It seemed very scary.

See, I could deal with the rest of my life being a blank. But to take responsibility for someone else's life, to fill in that canvas for them ... I guess it was probably at that moment that I knew that crawling people would be something I could only do temporarily. I wouldn't have the guts to take over a life permanently.

But I couldn't just leave Tommy hanging. So I went up behind him, like so many times before. I put my arms around him, one hand over his mouth. I let him relax into my arms and started to go into him. But as soon as he was passed out, I let him go. I laid him on the floor, in the same position that I always woke up in when I went inside him. Then I snuck out. I left the school grounds. I never saw him again, and I'm pretty sure he never saw me. I didn't want him to. I wanted him to think I was inside him. I figured that way he might-- Well, he might fool himself into acting the way he wanted to act, that he couldn't really act except when I was inside him.

He'd been good to me, and I like to think I'd been good for him, and that was the only gift I could think to leave him with.

I knew it was going to be hard after I left. But I didn't know how hard it was going to be. Otherwise I'd definitely have stayed inside him.

“This is too Easy”

by Slick Psych

“This is too easy,” I though to myself. “I can’t believe that I didn’t understand integrals my first time in Calculus.” I smiled knowingly to myself, imagining my cute face with its cheeky grin nicely placed in a coy smirk to the right. I mumbled to myself, “Guess what they say is true: hindsight is the best way to gauge success.

I’m livin’ proof o dat now.”

I felt my groin stir. I loved the way my voice sounded when I whispered and how naturally I had assimilated to a Black teenage boy’s dialect. I felt as though I oozed sex appeal without even trying. In fact, I know that I did. Not only was I the creme de la creme of my senior class, I was also a trophy boyfriend. At least that’s what Shaya tells all the school… and what Jace tells me during our private time! As I finished up the test my thoughts immediately began turning to the homecoming game tonite. I looked up from my seat in the back of the room and saw D’Andre hard at work. He felt my glance and looked up at me and asked in a rather loud whisper: “Nigga, you finished dis shit already?”

“Yea homes it ain’t dat hard.”

“Shiiyt. Imma fail dis test fo real foo. Mr. Simmons ain’t teach us this shit.”

I couldn’t focus on his complaining. I was more interested in his shoes. “Nigga when is you gonna lemme borrow dem kicks.”

“I ‘unno. When are you gunna actually find time to tutor a nigga?”

Caitlyn, sitting in front of me, turned around. “Boys, I respect your choice of language and endorse your right to speak freely but….”

“Ayyy.. I gotchu.” I said. “Our bad… err.. mistake.” She smiled. “Ready for the game Xavier?”

“Yea we gonna dominate dem byatches.” She rolled her eyes and I realized what I had said. “Errr.. yo sorry Katy. But yea we’re gonna go all the way this year!”

I stood up as quietly as I could but my key ring kinda announced my movements. I felt that my pants had slacked some so I tugged at them and took a long upward stretch lifting my arms as high as I could above my head. I stretched far enough up so that Caitlyn (and D’Andre) could see the bottom of my waist and the nice treasure trail of hair at the base of my navel that led to my groin area. I brought my right hand under my shirt, feeling the outline of my abs and doing it nonchalantly so that as I gave her my million dollar smirk I knew that she would blush a little. Out of the corner of my eye I saw D’Andre looking too… I knew that look of jealously/admiration: the look other men give you when you know that they hate you AND want to be you. I looked at the clock and realized that I had finished the test in only 30minutes. “Daymn…” I said to no one in particular in a heavy sigh. I still have an hour in this class to kill.

I sauntered up to the teacher’s desk; my body just naturally having a swagger and sway in my walk. I knew that I had successfully assimilated not only my speech to Xavier’s and his peers, but also my mannerisms. As far as I was concerned, I was and always will be Xavier Brown through and through. I handed my test to Mr. Simmons and he immediately looked at it.

“I must not be making it hard enough.”

“Nah, sir, it’s plenty hard because the rest o the class is still taking it.”

“Guess you’re just confident, huh?”

“Guess so.”

“You seem to have made a small error on number five here.” He said as he handed me my test back.

“No sir, I’m positive everythin’ is correct.” He looked down again.

“Ah, so it is. I can’t slip anything past you.”

“Sir, I’ve already copied down tha homework off tha board and seeing as how this is fourth period may I be excused to head on down to the field to warm up befo the rest of the team arrives?”

Simmons kept staring at my paper, no doubt trying his best to find a mistake. I stood next to his desk in obedient attention waiting for him to finish grading. When he finished he looked up at me, put his glasses on his desk and put his palms on his cheeks.

“Another perfect paper,” He dejectedly admitted and I heard the class behind me let out moans.

“Xavier, you always skew the bell curve!” cried the class president, Bethany.

“Sorry ya’ll nex time Imma be stupid to help ya’ll out.” I janked with a smile and did a mockingly humble Japanese style bow in the direction of the class with my hands by my side.

“Whateva” yelled D’Andre, “next time you gonna help a homie out by doing group study!”

Mr. Simmons interjected, “All right, all right. Settle down everybody and do your best. We’ll discuss results when it’s time to discuss results.” He looked at me. “Yes, Mr. Brown, you are free to head to the field.”

“Thanks and good lookin’ out, Sir” I said. I went back to my desk, got my gym bag and backpack and started to head out the door. Mr. Simmons cried out: “Mr. Brown, come here please.” Again, I sauntered over to his desk. “You’ve made a big academic turn around since the second semester of your sophomore year. And from what I understand you’ve scored excellent on your SATs and AP tests. I know that the State University’s recruiters are going to be at the game tonite, but I don’t want you to rule out some more… how do I say this nicely… academically rigorous programs of higher learning.”

I smiled, put my hand to my face and acted like I was stroking a longer goatee than what I was sporting. My friends and I like to call it acting like an ‘old school white man.’ In a mocking tone, I said: “Oh, you mean such fine schools as Hahvahd and MIT my good man.” Simmons smiled and gave me a pat on my butt (I know he had been dying for an excuse to try to touch it all term…)

“Yes I do,” Simmons said. “I’ll be more than willing to help you with your applications. You still have a solid two months before they’re due. We can get it done in that time.” He offered his hand out to shake mine.

“Thank you, sir.” I said and gave him a hearty handshake back. He added, while subtly licking his lips and using his green eyes to stare squarely into my dark brown eyes: “They’re looking for young men who are like you….”

“Black n poor? Guess all those years o slavery needta be compensated somehow n scholarship is a good way.”

“Look at it as you will…but men like you have a lot to offer… to other men… so don’t hesitate to come talk to me about anything,,,, ever…” I knew what he was getting at, and since I have a good since of humour I wink and say: “I won’t.”

As I walk down the hall I laugh. “Daymn dat Bill Simmons is a pervert hahah and has a bad case of da jungle fever… daymn.. always has been lecherous tho,” I say to no one in particular. Bill was once my colleague… until two years ago when I possessed Xavier. But who knows? As a way to motivate him to write some amazing recommendations for me I just might let him get a lil’ taste of my chocolate. My teenage brain liked the thought of it: “His bitch ass can suck some cock. He’ll go inta cardiac arrest just tastin some of mah cum. It’ll no doubt be da best suck n fuck he’s eva had…”

I walked out of the building and headed towards the fieldhouse. Since I was the first one there, I had to unlock the door to the locker room. I threw my items on the bleacher in the changing room and started to strip out of my school jersey. I always liked warming up in the near-nude. I stood with just my black wife beater clinging to my chocolate colored chest, grabbed some basketball shorts but didn’t put any underwear on underneath and pulled out my old white high top Nikes… no socks of course. I ran a hand over the tops of my pectoral muscles. I spotted a mirror on the other side of the room and looked at my full body. I was a black teenager with options opened up to me; I fully intended to use them well.

I already smelled my musk; it always turns me on.

Going from a 50 year old Chinese immigrant to this form was a culture shock, then it slowly transformed into an opportunity. It wasn’t Xavier’s fault that his body was the mortal form that my soul bound itself to after my scientific dabbling into black magic went awry. It was all random; I could’ve very well been slung into the form of an older disabled woman! I’ll never forget the first few hours I spent in my new body, which was 16 at that time. The hormone rush! The psychological stimulation! The sight remorse that my presence in this form locked the original soul into a deep sleep from which there is never an awakening. After spending hours masturbating in my athletic body, I made the old Xavier some promises to honour the gift fate had decided that he was destined to give me. I would always take care of his family, I would obtain superior education, wealth, and social status in his name. and I would have at least one biological child with the seed in this body. Though my spirit could personally care less about the final promise… I will honour that the original owner was privy to reproductive intercourse. “Dat shit cray tho,” I laugh internally.

But now, that last promise was the furthest away. I had to impress the recruiter. I started by doing 100 crunches, sit-ups, and push-ups. I was sweating. I am horny. Then, I head to the weights to do reps on my upper arms and chest. I look at my face in the mirror; I’m sweating. I notice my hair and how it’s lined-uped. I’ve always liked how Black boys could get razored haircuts like this. I like how when I go to Lorenzo’s shop he always makes me look fresh. I focus.

Yup. I reiterate my promises as I prepare for some intense 30 minute training before the crew gets here: “Wit me in dis body Imma go all da way. Harvard… medical school… researcher scholar… entrepreneur and world traveller all the while keepin physically fit. Xavier’s life with me in control is good; my life is good.

Caption This! (25 Feb)

Back by popular demand!

If you want to submit a photo by email, use this link. Only one photo per email please, can’t guarantee they will be used or when they will be used though..

Mixing it up a bit now, I thought I’d setup a scenario and let you run with it – OR choose your own story.

**THE STORIES ARE IN THE COMMENTS**

Curtis looked over at Romeo, damn he was amazing – he had it all, but it wasn’t always like that of course before he found that locket he was an awkward kid but after – WOW!

What was this magic he had?

“What if…”

“The Statement of X--- Y--- Z---" Part 3

by Seuzz

Where we last time? Well, I was over there and you were--

Ah. You won't permit me my little jokes. Well, then, if I recall correctly, when we broke last time I was inside Tommy DiMarco. After PE I went on being him, going to his classes and changing out books at his locker. Goofing off in the hallways. I was having so much fun I didn't think ahead to what would happen when the final bell rang, so I had no idea what to do when I found myself walking around in front of the school.

Should I let him go? Should I just stay inside him? I kept edging up to the bike rack where he had his bike, and kept glancing over at the school bus I was supposed to take back to my own home. I fiddled with his shoes. I checked out the insides of his backpack. Finally the buses all pulled away, leaving me behind, feeling a little sick and a little exhilarated. I'd somehow managed to lose his friends, who he usually hung out with, so it was just me and a few stragglers after the buses were gone.

And then Kathy Eason came out. Kathy had long black hair and violet eyes and she wore what the boys called "happy jeans" because they made you happy when you looked at her wearing them. My breath always got short and shallow when she was around, and a lot of times I hid so she wouldn't see me. But now I was Tommy DiMarco, and I didn't feel nearly as nervous when she came up to the bike rack.

She was smiling and said something about how she never ran into me at the bike rack, even though we both rode our bikes home. I said something about how I was late because I got stuck in my last class, and said I'd ride back with her. We got on our bikes and rode along next to each other, slow and easy. I wanted to panic--I was riding bikes with Kathy Eason!--but my heart was beating very slowly and my brain was very cool. I made some jokes and she told me some things about herself, and I listened and said some other things. And when we got to her street I almost forgot to ride down it with her. But I remembered in time and went with her until we got to her driveway. We stopped there and talked some more. I kept looking at her. I wanted to stare at her, to drink her in, but I was so relaxed I'm sure it just came out as polite interest. She wouldn't look at me, though. She seemed a little flushed after the ride, and her breath was short, and she kept looking around while talking. Eventually we ran out of stuff to say, and I just cocked my head and said "See you tomorrow," and she nodded. I started to back out into the street, but stopped when she turned with a hop and practically skipped into her garage.

That's when I knew she had a serious crush on Tommy.

Well, of course she did. I hadn't noticed before, because when looking at her I'd look at her, not at what she was looking at, but I saw other girls do the same thing around Tommy. And I was thinking with Tommy's brain, so I knew he'd seen it to. But even though he'd noticed, he hadn't put two and two together. He was totally oblivious to the effect he had on the girls.

Now, here's where it gets complicated. This moment--I remember it so clearly because it was the first moment I really began to understand what I had with this crawling business. It was the first moment I realized that while I was inside him we were really the same person. I was thinking with his brain, so whatever I realized, he would realize too. And now that I'd realized that Kathy liked him-- Well, then he realized it too. And so his instincts kicked in, and all these chemicals started washing through him, and so they started washing through me. I felt exactly what he would feel--that's why he was so cool around Kathy when I was so nervous. That's what made it so easy to pretend to be him.

But at the same time I had my own thoughts--which I was sharing with him--and my own feelings. So I also had my own perspective. It was like when you're watching yourself on a TV monitor. You see the world from where you are, but you also see it from outside yourself. Well, I was looking at the world as if I was Tommy DiMarco, but I was also looking at it from outside.

My skin began to prickle all over, and that queer smile probably showed up on my face again. I could be him, but I could also be better than him, because I had a perspective on him that he couldn't. When I was inside Tommy, I knew more about him than he could know, and also more about him than I could know.

Well, not at first, no. I was a kid, I couldn't think through all this, but I could feel it. At the time, I just noticed that I was having two different reactions to Kathy, and to the realization that she had a crush on him. Tommy was wary, more than anything else. See, he was a nice kid, a really nice kid. He didn't like hurting people's feelings. He worried: How would Kathy feel if she knew that he didn't like her, not the way she liked him? He got uncomfortable, too, at thinking there were so many other girls who he didn't like the way they liked him.

Me, I was shocked, shocked to discover that he didn't like the girls the way I liked them or the way that they liked him. He actually didn't think about girls all that much. They were furniture, background. He had his pals to play with.

Oh for Pete's sake, don't go jumping to conclusions. I told you, we were twelve. Some boys get started early and some get started late. Tommy was just one of the late-starters. Anyway, there was one girl he had noticed.

His brain--our brain--was spinning really fast as I pedaled back to his house. The girls and what to do about them. Suddenly my heart jumped when I thought of Sara Durbin. I hadn't noticed her because we didn't have classes together, but Tommy had classes with her, and she basically did to him what Kathy did to me. Personally, I wouldn't have seen it if I hadn't been inside him. She had blonde hair and kind of an impudent face. Strong nose and chin, almost Semitic, but toned down. Something about her face, though, got to him. And she was whip-smart and funny, and he liked it when she cracked wise. Sometimes he'd tease her a little, so she'd crack back at him, but he'd scamper away instead of standing and fighting back. He was afraid of her.

I had a lot to think about when I got back to his house, but I covered it up by doing his homework and his chores and staying on his dad's good side. In fact, I had so much to think about that I didn't actually think about it afterward, and just wasted time on TV and then bed. The next morning I was tired and a little freaked out, so I decided to leave him. I managed to be late to PE again, and when I had the locker room to myself I exited him. I hid in the showers until I heard him leave, then dressed out myself and went into the gym. I watched him out of the corner of my eye, during gym and in the one class we had together after gym. He hadn't seen me, before or after I crawled him, and I wondered what he'd do or how he'd act.

He didn't do anything. He seemed subdued, though. I thought I caught him looking at me suspiciously, once. But I caught the same expression on his face when he was looking at some other people. He lit out early after school, and I watched him go while sitting on the school bus.

No, I didn't get in trouble at home. She only said that if I was gonna spend the night with friends I should call. I don't think she cared much. There was some stuff going on at home, but that gets more important later, and we can talk about it when it'll make more sense.

There weren't any more repercussions, at school or anyplace else. I eyeballed a few other people, wondering if I could crawl them. But there wasn't much doubt about who I'd crawl if I had the chance, and a few days later it came. Tommy was late for gym again. I saw him dart across the gym floor, and I sidled after him. Caught him again, half-dressed, at his gym locker, and took him from behind without him seeing me. It felt like I'd never been away from him. Because, of course, I had his brain again, and his brain hadn't been outside his body, so yeah, it would feel like I hadn't been away from him.

He'd been avoiding Kathy after school, but that day I lingered, and when she showed up I said I'd been waiting for her, and we rode back to her house together. She was even redder and more out of breath when we got there, and she seemed really distracted while I talked to her. I finally shut up and just looked at her. She stopped looking all around and looked at me, and that's when I hit her with it. "You're the prettiest girl in school," I said. She stared and then she swallowed. I just smiled and waved and took off down the street. Stood up on the bike and pumped the pedals, and like a showoff shot around the corner with my arms held out like wings. I knew she'd be watching me, and I wanted to look good, and I knew Tommy looked really good doing that on that bike, because I'd seen him do it before.

No, he wasn't keen on Kathy, but I was keen on her, and damn if I wasn't going to take advantage of where I was and who I was. But I made it up to him. That night I called up Sara, to ask about homework, and wound up talking to her for an hour. His heart was hammering all the time, but I wasn't scared of her, and I kept him cool and smart. I talked trash at her like she was one of his friends, and she talked trash back. We got each other all wound up, but we had fun. Oh, we had fun. I gave it to her good, and I could tell she liked it. And I-- I mean, Tommy loved it. After I hung up I went in the bathroom and locked the door and took out his cock, which was stiff and twinging, and massaged it. Stroked it and squeezed it and sucked on my lower lip while thinking of Kathy and Sara. Neither Tommy nor I had figured out how to climax yet, so I was exhausted but still jumpy when I fell into bed about twenty minutes later. Kicked at the covers for an hour before falling asleep.

I took extra care getting dressed the next morning. I wore a button-down shirt over a white t-shirt and some khakis. Got his mom to play with my hair a little. I caught her smiling, so she must've figured a girl was behind it. I took the bike ride slow so I wouldn't raise a sweat. When I got to school I went and found Sara at her locker. Started the argument all over again. See, I'd figured out how to treat her in a way that'd make Tommy happy, so that's what I did. I treated her like one of the guys, with that unconscious confidence that he had with the other girls. But I made time for Kathy too. I ignored her, and then I was rude to her. She seemed crushed, until after school when she found me sitting on the bike rack waiting for her. "I'm not going home, I'm going to McDonalds," I said. She said, "What do I care?" I said, "I dunno, what do you care, unless you wanna go with me." She got all stiff and twitchy and looked at the ground and then she shrugged and we rode off to McDonalds. We talked some more, but she was kinda quiet. Afterwards, though, I said "I'm glad you came with me. It means you like me, right?" And she flinched and got kind of nasty. "Maybe," is what she said. I said, "Then I'm glad I didn't try kissing you." That made her jump. "Because," I said, "that's what I'd've had to do if you didn't come to McDonalds with me. Because, you know, you really are pretty."

She looked kind of aghast, and I left her looking like that and rode away. I pedaled out to an abandoned gas station and went into the bathroom, and that's where I exited him. I hid in the old service bays until he'd left.

See, I'd set him up with two different girls, and I wanted to see what he'd do without my influence.