FEStival Fiasco

FEStival Fiasco

Part 4

She was born an Elite. Female or not, she was destined for greatness. It was because of that privilege that Zathina knew the consequences should she fail in her mission.

With a sway of her hips and a few sensual looks, the male was completely under her spell. After that, all that Zathina needed to do was stand by and let the man drag her to his little den for a rendezvous. After what was little but a “pump and dump,” as she heard the man’s friends joke about while she was flirting with him, Zathina took her chance.

The man bit his lower lip, a ridiculous and toothy grin on his face as he dropped his boxers and climbed on top of the female body Zathina was inhabiting. He leaned down to kiss her, to explore her mouth. In that instance, Zathina swiftly flipped him over and held him in a chokehold. The shock on his face lasted only an instance, but she still savored it. Now that he was in her grasp, she easily slithered into his mouth.

“Hrgh...! Urrghh...ohhhhh...”

Sighing, Zathina stood up from the couch, breathing heavily as she relaxed her suddenly sore muscles.

A quick and effective transfer was all it took for her to now be in the body of a rugged male, not unlike her classmates.

While Zathina would have preferred to succeed in the body of a female to prove a point, taking even the slightest risk of a disadvantage was a fool’s choice. Still, she couldn’t help but feel disappointed at the lack of strong and powerful women. It was only through her own skill and talent that she was able to make warriors out of this species. “It’s a festival,” she reminded herself as she strolled through the grounds. “Not an army.”

On the battlefield and in covert operations, the luxury of choosing a preferred host would not be there. As a promising soldier, Zathina would not make the mistake of expecting it so. Instead, she kept a close eye on more powerful hosts while remaining observant of the competition. If anyone tried to sabotage her chances, she would strike back with greater force. The professor would approve.

Goosebumps appeared on her host’s skin. One of her own was close. While failures such as that worm could not recognize the slight shift in the air when another was nearby, Zathina was different. Picking her classmate from the crowd wasn’t difficult. One only needed to keep an eye on the crowd to see whoever stood out.

Her eyes locked with another man’s--and he smirked at her. She could only think of one who would hold such a shit-eating grin. “Arcturus...” she whispered. She split off from the crowd and walked towards the edge of the festival grounds, and Arcturus followed.

2nd in the class, just barely above the worm. He was Zathina’s only real competition in a hypothetical even and fair competition. However, in anything except their assignments, she paid him no mind. His ego was about as large as Alcor’s, and he had only half of Zathina’s skill and talent to back it up. She was aware of the sheer anger at holding second place for once in his life, but she didn’t care. A loser was a loser; status be damned.

Once the two were far enough from the festivals that it was but white noise in the wind, Zathina leaned against a nearby tree and addressed Arcturus. “I was expecting a sneak attack,” she said, turning her cool gaze towards his still-smirking face. The beads of sweat that trailed down his forehead betrayed his easy-going visage. “You were never able to beat me in any sparring match.”

The smile became forced as wrinkles from stress and age began to show. “Is a ‘Hello, Arcturus,’ too good for our number 1 in class~?” he said, always trailing off his sentences with what he must believe was the flair befitting of an Elite. Zathina always had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing. “Silver tongue’d as always. I must say, it truly is wonderful to finally have a chance to converse with you after out last exam. I’m not used to being second place for...” he kept the smile up, but his fists trembled with anger as he uttered,” for as long as I have been attending this academy.”

“Is it the first time you’ve met your superior?”

“An equal? Yes, it must be,” chuckled Arcturus. “A female one at that~!” he exclaimed, as though the very idea was enough to signal the end times. “And on top of that, you’ve blatantly disrespect me by declining invitations to my dinner parties every. Single. Time.” 

Scoffing, Zathina said, “We’re warriors. Soldiers. Playing at parties and other frivolous nonsense just distracts us from our duties.”

“My my, what would your father say about this?” When Zathina’s eyes widened, Arcturus chuckled. “Oh, did I hit a nerve~? This must be the first time I’ve gotten any kind of rise out of you.” Snickering, Arcturus paced around the greenery as he spoke, like he was giving a speech. “What must the old general think, seeing his precious little girl act in such an unbecoming way for her role in society.” His tittering turned into a full-on belly laugh as Zathina’s expression shifted into one of pure hatred. “Oh...! Oh my... you say that I’m playing, but here you are acting as if you can carry out your father and brother’s wills.”

“Did Alcor tell you this?” said Zathina through gritted teeth.

“That scum?” Arcturus said with a sneer. “No. I had to do a little digging on my own, but what fascinating little details I’ve found. When I first heard about you, I was surprised that there was an Elite I hadn’t met. Now I know why.” With a year’s worth of undue resentment, Arcturus hissed, “A disgrace worm like you should just crawl on the ground and die like the filthy deviant you are. Not even your own mother loved you enough to remain by your side.”

Zathina didn’t rush at him. To do so would mean turning her back and spitting on the dignified way of her family and the remaining honor she had as an Elite. However, to slug the tree next to her with as much force as she could muster up and have it tumble toward Arcturus’ general direction wasn’t unbecoming of a warrior. The little satisfaction she got from his panicked fleeing wasn’t much of a victory, but it was all she could take from now.

Still, she couldn’t help but feel a crushing weight of his words deep inside of her heart. Scars long-thought to have healed re-opened, but she refused to cry and scream as she did all those years ago. Zathina would no longer be weak. She had promised her late family that much.

With a sigh, she returned to the festival ground and continued her work on the assignment. Time was running short, and she needed to ensure her victory. Elite or worm, nothing would stand in her way.

FEStival Fiasco

Mizar Interlude

The joys of physical touch fascinated Mizar so. With every lover and climax, he felt more and more inclined to remain in this blue rock for the rest of his life just having his prostate ridden.

Luckily for him, Mizar found himself in a stuffy office full of men who desperately needed someone to relieve stress with. After a few winks and thirsty looks, Mizar had his next plaything on lock.

“Ngh! C’mon, harder!” he begged at this handsome stranger in a suit. They were in an unused meeting room that, according to his host’s coworker, would not be used for another hour. Mizar was on his back, completely naked and covered in a sheen of sweat, as his partner fucked him with just his slacks down. By now, he was far from festival grounds by highjacking bodies and hopping on dicks. This would just be another ride he could take advantage of.

“Holy shit, John!" The businessman, whatever his name was, exclaimed as he continued pounding Mizar. "You always seemed so uptight! Who knew you were such a cockslut," the man said with a chuckle as he picked up the pace. "And such a tight ass. Holy hell, it's like it's sucking me in."

“Ahhh,” Mizar moaned, arching his back while trying to meet John’s coworker with equal vigor.  He truly had no idea what his host’s name was or even his position in the company, but none of that mattered compared to the burning desire for carnal pleasure. “K-Keep it up. C’mon, fuck me hard! Make me forget even my own name!” Mizar shouted, repeating phrases from previous partners. When in Rome, as one of them had said when he first came to them with an erection that wouldn’t go down and a crazed need to bottom. Or was it, any hole’s a good one?

All of the thoughts instantly vanished from Mizar as his partner delivered another powerful thrust. "Ngh! F-FUCK!" Not nearly satisfied enough, Mizar wrapped his legs around his coworker's torso and pull him even deeper into himself. "Paint my insides white! Tear me in half like—OOOH—LIKE A COCK WHORE!"

“Here it comes!” Mizar’s lover cried out, balancing on his toes to push even deeper as he came. Mizar grinned as he felt each shot fill him up with warm semen. Soon after, as his lover’s climax dribbled away, he reached his own peak as well. Load after load fell onto Mizar’s borrowed, sweaty torso, and he enjoyed rubbing it all over himself. He wasn’t sure if it was his possession that caused such tremors of ecstasy with all of his hosts, but he was far and beyond the point of caring. For Mizar, his life would be peaks and valleys of time when he was seeking his new high. “Come hereeee...” he whispered, tongue sticking out as he grabbed his lover by the tie and pulled him close.

Another peak, another valley. Now was the time to find another experience. Without delay, Mizar jumped from John and into his new ride. Although the businessman struggled and tried to push Mizar away, he could not stop the alien sliding in through his mouth and traveling up to his brain. "NGH! MM! Oh—oh god!" The man groaned, collapsing on top of John's drooling and unconscious body as Mizar bit down on his brain. After some small convulsions and a few waves of pleasure, Mizar stood up and admired his new husk. The hard-on that threatened to no longer fit in his slacks and jock-strap fascinated Mizar the most.

“Let’s go,” Mizar said to himself, not even bothering to figure out more about this man or how to lay low. All that mattered to him was finding his next peak.

Don’t Use the Shower at Night

Lionel walked through the locker room with an exaggerated swagger, his towel nearly slipping off his swaying hips. Just a step behind him was another man named Maxwell, his fluffy hair bobbing up and down as he emulated Lionel’s strut with perfect accuracy. His expression remained completely stoic despite his expression gait, and his eyes seldom blink. Soon, the pair stopped in front of the sole shower stall still being used.

Leaning against a wall, Lionel commented, “Your hair’s just too cute, Maxie. It’s so nice when it just moves like that,” he said, chuckling as Maxwell simply nodded. “I’m glad we met in this gym, Maxie, but… don’t you think there’s someone else who should join this li’l group of ours? No reason it can’t be more than two.”

A flicker of light appeared in Maxwell’s dull eyes. His lips curled up into a smirk mirroring that of Lionel’s. “Sure thing, boss,” he said, his gruff voice sounding faint from disuse. He stepped forward, towel falling onto the floor. He drew the shower curtain back with a swift flick of the wrist.

“Woah, man, what the fuck?!” said the younger man, whipping around to face Maxwell. “H-Hey, what the hell’s wrong with you? Go away!” Despite the desperation in the young man’s voice, Maxwell just stepped forward, ignoring the stream of hot water on his skin. “Hey, you there, help me out here!” The young man looked to Lionel in desperation. However, Lionel just grinned as the outline of his hardening dick became clear through the thin towel. “Just relax,” he told the young man as Maxwell pinned him to the wall. “This can be fun of all of us. Stop. Struggling. And relax.”

“B-Bro, please…!” was all the young man was able to do as Maxwell forcibly brought their lips together beneath the hot, steamy water. Their tongues wrestled and fought for dominance as the young man screamed into Maxwell’s mouth until something surged forth. “HRGH! HHHMMMMFFF!”

Lionel let out a pleasured moan as the slimy substance that composed his soul traveled down the young man's throat and began to spread throughout his trembling body. The odd substance began to invade and rewire each of the man's cells. Every time without fail, Lionel enjoyed the sensation of his consciousness flooding another's.

“Good job, li’l Maxie,” Lionel said to his first convert. Fully aware that there was not a shred of the old Maxwell to respond to his praise, Lionel still enjoyed the little replay that came with controlling multiple bodies. The rippling of Maxwell's biceps as he pinned the young man to the wall as well as the hair that adorned his head all confirmed to Lionel one thing: he had made the right choice conquering this one.

Speaking of conquering, Lionel leaned his head back and let out a moan, toes curling and eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head as a stream of information reached his consciousness. The sensation of filling another always gave him such a rush of pleasure, like he was breeding someone’s hole. “Mm, so your name’s Jacob? Not a bad name, and not a bad looker, either,” said Lionel, grinning.

Maxwell leaned back, licking a stray film of orange good from his lips while his victim convulsed against the wall. The process always took a few seconds at least, but Lionel was slowly becoming faster. Soon he’d be able to convert others in no time at all. However, “It’s just not as much fun,” he said out loud, sticking his tongue out as he savored the last remains of resistance from Jacob finally fade. “So, Jacob my friend, how do you feel about joining li’l ol’ Maxie and me? We’re cruising around and thinking of picking up a few more buddies. You in?”

"Uh, ohhh… urgh…" Jacob still moaned as he went through the last of the shakes. He cracked his neck, shuddering before opening his eyes, giving Lionel yet another set he could see through. For a moment, there was the tiniest hint of an orange dye in Jacob’s irises, but it soon vanished. “Sounds like a bitchin’ time, boss,” said Lionel’s newest husk, adopting Jacob’s personality. “But why don’t you let me finish up my shower? Actually, do you mind joining me? Need someone to wash the small of my back.”

“Do you mind, Maxie?” said Lionel, knowing the answer already but still enjoying the little show he was putting on for himself. Maxwell shook his head, hair bobbing the whole time. “Well then, let’s get acquainted.”

Couples Therapy

Marcus glanced at his client before going back to his notes. As usual, it was a young woman who looked as though she was on the verge of tears after giving him a mile-long list of grievances towards her husband. For the first few years, everything was like an eternal honeymoon until the two began to drive the other crazy. From the little info Marcus had, the blame seemed to rest on two personalities that didn't feel like compromising—as it usually was.

However, compromises didn’t put food on Marcus’ table, so it was in his best interest to pin the blame all on the husband. “Like my services advertise,” he told the wife, Julia, while sliding a sheet of his talents over to her, “I can fix your marriage to be as blissful as it was on your wedding night. All I need is your consent and I can shape your lover as you need him to be.”

The tears soon dried up. "Um, huh…?" Julia grew sheepish as her eyes skimmed over the sheet. Not good. "Shape him? My friend said your type of work was unique, but changing my husband…? I didn't hear anything about that."

Tilting his head, Marcus said, "Did you not notice how your friend's partner changed? He was happier, more agreeable, and far more pleasant overall. Always carried a strong conversation and had the manners of a perfect gentleman. Don't you want the same for your husband?"

“I-I thought you just gave them counseling!” Julia stood up from her chair, hands clasping her purse as though Marcus was a violent, money-hungry criminal. “This is crazy. A-And, honestly absurd. I'll have no part in this lunacy!"

“So you’re okay with your husband’s divorce?”

Julia stopped just before her hand reached the door. Though she didn't turn around, she said, "What do you mean?" Her voice was tinged with fear despite her attempts to hide it.

“When you made your appointment, I did a little digging on your husband,” said Marcus, lying as naturally as he breathed. “Digging into his soul, of course. My abilities allow me to do so.”

He stood up and strode over to Julia. “He’s growing increasingly dissatisfied with your union. Every little action, every little word, every little annoyance from you pushes him more and more towards the arms of another.” While Marcus remained stone-faced, he was smirking inside as beads of sweat cascaded down Julia’s brow. 

Perfect.

“A young woman your age already divorced? What will the neighbors think? Your friends? Your family? But,” he shrugged and made his way back to his desk, “if you insist that you don’t need my services, I can do nothing about that. I sincerely wish the two of you a happy marriage. However long it lasts.”

Julia excused herself to go to the bank but promised she would return with the payment.

Marcus’ target was a man by the name of Trevor. Attractive, admirable, and breakable. All it would require was a few weeks in his body and Marcus’ job would be finished. Julia had signed the contract, so his body was completely available.

That was the limit to Marcus’ powers. Without some sort of consent from one who at the very least shared the name or a bond with his target, he was unable to do anything. Now, all Marcus had to do was take over Trevor’s body.

But first, Marcus was curious about what was going to happen in their ordinary lives. While Julia had given him a whole list of things that she wished Trevor would do, Marcus skimmed it before throwing it away. For the most part, his clients didn't know what they wanted—and what they did was something ridiculous like 'makes me breakfast in bed every single day.' It was all nonsense straight out of a soap opera. Marcus preferred to just take a look at what pissed his client off and doing a few favors here and there. The only part of Julia's list that Marcus even remotely paid attention to was, "Being more open to pegging."

Other than that, Marcus would just sit by and watch how a typical morning went for the couple. He made his way to the address Julia had provided him during their meeting in an astral form and peeked into their lives.

“God, another spill, Jules?” Trevor groaned as he looked down at his stained pants. “C'mon." While Julia let out a stream of apologies, Trevor just rolled his eyes and said, "I'm trying to get a goddamn promotion here!"

“I-I’m trying…!” Julia said, backing up as Trevor grabbed the empty mug and smashed it on the ground. “Th-That was mine...”

“And so’s the mess,” Trevor shot back. “When you’re the breadwinner in this relationship, you can decide what does and doesn’t get broken.” With that, Trevor left to get changed while Julia cleaned up the kitchen.

That was all Marcus needed to see. The bastard needed a major attitude adjustment. His wife was a complete klutz, but there was no need to bite her head off for making a mistake. Marcus didn't feel any particular sympathy for Julia, but assholes like Trevor pissed him off to no extent. "Only natural," Marcus said to himself. "Assholes hate assholes. Don't like pricks like him on my turf."

Floating over to Trevor and Julia’s room, he admired the assets he would borrow for the next few days. Trevor’s pants were off, allowing Marcus to get a nice glimpse of the package he would be showing off for the next few days. Along with that were nice, juice thighs and a good chest peeking out of the nice polo shirt he wore. No longer able to resist, Marcus just dove towards Trevor.

"HNNG! What the fuuuuck?!" Trevor moaned as Marcus phased through his back. Entire body tensing up, Trevor stood in place, his back arching while his head was thrown back. Feet planted to the floor, he moaned in pleasure and panic. "Wh-Who the hell?! What the—HAA! Ahhh…! What the fuck are youuuu?!" Unable to keep his balance amidst the barrage of pain and pleasure mixing, Trevor collapsed onto his bed, convulsing uncontrollably as the foreign intruder wore him like a suit.

“Mmm,” Marcus moaned, rubbing his hard-on against the mattress. “Oh, that’s niiice. Thanks, Julia.” Still face-down on the bed, he spread his legs and let his hands wander towards a certain untouched hole. “Don’t worry, I’ll turn your hubby into the subbiest bottom in town.”

Purposefully ignoring Julia, Marcus left the house and headed towards Trevor’s place of work, relying on muscle memory and the information Julia had given him for navigation. Eventually, he arrived at some fancy insurance firm full of suits who looked like they could use a healthy dose of Viagra.

Once more, Marcus relied on Trevor's muscle memory to guide his way through work. And once settled into Trevor's impersonal cubicle, Marcus began his work. At once, he worked on smiling more in Trevor's body. Man was a creature of habit and the human mind was a sponge for information and mannerisms. Because of that, Marcus would adopt certain behaviors for the week or so he would be in his hosts' bodies. The end result was a spouse that would compliment their partner far more.

On all levels, it was wrong. However, Marcus continued without losing a wink of sleep.

After making sure Trevor was smiling more, Marcus also stretched and relaxed his muscle. "God, you're so tense," he mentioned as he rolled his shoulders back. "Or, I'm so tense." Grinning, Marcus continued chatting to himself. It was always fun getting into a role. Perhaps it was his theater kid days, but adopting a new identity was always fun. "I should get more into yoga," he said, stretching as much as he could in that uncomfortable suit. "Do some squats. It'll help me make my ass all nice and firm. Flexibility'll be nice in the bedroom for Jules," he proclaimed, repeating it to himself to make sure it remained imprinted to Trevor.

To make sure those thoughts remained in Trevor's head, Marcus headed off to the gym after each workday. He worked until Trevor's already well-developed muscles were pleasurably sore by the time he arrived back home. "Keep acting as though I'm Trevor," Marcus had texted Julia before. "It'll make it easier for these thoughts to stick to your husband." His words didn't ease Julia's awkwardness, but Marcus didn't mind. Working with pathetic actors wasn't anything new for him.

By the final day of Marcus' planned stay, Trevor's boss called him into his office. "You're not in trouble," his boss, a man by the name of Arthur said. "Just wanted to catch up with you, is all." His words were even, but Marcus noticed that his gaze was not. Arthur's eyes kept traveling and his fingertips kept grazing Trevor as much as they could while retaining that facade of professionalism. "I've noticed your recent change in attitude. Rumors travel quickly throughout the office."

“When there’s not much to talk about,” Marcus began, “it’s easy to become the talk of the town.”

Arthur cocked an eyebrow. “Your attitude and your tongue’s changed, Trey. I'm surprised but pleased. Productivity for the whole office has gone up this week. And your more positive attitude has really helped with that. I've noticed the environment in general is a lot less toxic."

“Sorry about that, sir,” Marcus said with a curt nod. Yet, he made sure to keep a cocky, inviting smirk on his face. The blood was rushing to Arthur’s cheeks despite his stony expression. “Hadn’t realized how much my attitude had an impact on the office. But I’m sure you’ll be just as satisfied as my wife about the new me.” By now, Marcus was happily rubbing his thighs, making sure they stood out alongside his bulge in those tight slacks he had purchased for Trevor. During the week, he had made a habit of dropping his things and bending over to reach for them in front of his various coworkers. If his eyes didn’t deceive him, he was certain about the office spent more than half a second staring at Trevor’s assets.

Arthur cleared his throat. “Yes, well. Nonetheless, just wanted to show my appreciation for this sudden turn. Always happy to see my workers in a relaxed, pleasant environment.”

Standing up, Marcus leaned in close to Arthur’s lips. “I can think of a few other ways you can show your appreciation, boss,” he whispered, unbuckling his belt. This same scenario had played out so many times Marcus was certain his gaydar was impeccable. “Why don’t you bend me over your desk and show me who the boss is?”

Arthur hesitated for about a second before locking the office door and tying Trevor’s mouth shut with his own tie. “Take! This! You! Slut!” Arthur roared as he pounded Trevor’s ass raw. Marcus, back arched, face pressed up against the cold desk, just moaned like a slut. He eagerly met each of Arthur’s thrust with his strong workout for his hips.

This is my favor for you, Julia, he thought as Arthur pulled on his hair. Your husband’s hole might not be as tight as you want it to be, but he’ll definitely be up for stuff up his ass by the time I leave.

"Make me your bottom bitch," Marcus begged, trapped in a nirvana of pleasure and pain.

The next time Marcus saw Julia and Trevor the two of them were walking down the back, arms linked. Both were smiling and laughing so animatedly that Marcus was certain the songbirds were jealous. On occasion, he spotted Julia lightly slapping Trevor's ass and her husband reddening like a tomato at the sensation.

Marcus returned home satisfied at another successful trip.

Daddy’s Punishment

Ryan cocked his eyebrow as he glanced up at his son’s shut room. Once again, the sounds of giggling and teasing pierced through the house’s walls and rang in Ryan’s ears. His son, Michael, was spending another day of his Spring Break with his girlfriend, Veronica. Ever since their senior year of high school, the two had been inseparable. Now, in their final year college after searching for programs that would suit them both, the two discussed their plans for the future with a youthful and carefree vigor.

Frankly, Ryan felt disgusted. His heart burned with jealousy for those days that had passed him by with little excitement or joy. A few years of blissful marriage with the love of his wife before she passed, leaving behind a young boy that would rather spend the day as far away from Ryan as possible. The two lived in the same home, but rarely shared the same menu that day or remained in the same room without a tense air flooding the space between them.

It wasn’t animosity, at least, Ryan didn’t think it was. However, the thought of spending the whole day with Michael made his skin crawl. It would be better for the two to simply lead their own lives and not get in the other’s way.

Then Veronica arrived. Michael spent much more time at home playing House with her while Ryan remained some awkward third-wheel in his own abode. There was no animosity, but Ryan didn’t miss the way Michael’s brow furrowed when he saw his father or the way Veronica’s smile grew just the tiniest bit more tense when Ryan said “Hello,” or just passed by the hallway.

It was maddening. The young couple flaunted their happiness as if Ryan didn’t exist without rest. It was picturesque relationship that served as a painful reminder of what Ryan could never have. A gnawing hunger for a youthful renaissance or a second chance ate at Ryan’s soul, and he eventually snapped.

Not long after, an old family member, in his deathbed, passed along a grimoire.

“The ability to change and reshape reality to suit your whims,” the relative, a man that Ryan scarcely knew and hardly thought about, said with his final breaths. “You’ve always been so kind and considerate, dropping every once and while to check up on me,” he continued, unaware that Ryan spent the last few days trying to remember the relative’s name or even their relationship. “Use this power to make you and Michael’s life better. It’ll bring me great joy in the afterlife to know that you’re both okay and that my book helped.” With a tearful smile, he said, “Wouldn’t that be great? It’ll be like I’m watching over you.”

Ryan nodded and whispered, “Good night. We’ll miss you.” There was no reason to break the old man’s heart with the truth. It was an adult lesson Ryan learned long ago.

“I’ll miss Uncle Miles,” said Michael as they drove home together. Ah, that was his name. Always slipped my mind, thought Ryan as he glanced over at his son. It was one of the rare times Veronica wasn’t hanging off his arm. It felt like it was the first time he had seen in his son in years. So much taller and broad-shouldered—it brought forth another wave of envy inside of Ryan. His grip on the steering wheel tightened until his son spoke again. “What did he say to you?”

Caught off-guard, he gruffly responded, “J-Just gave me his little book,” with a small sneer. “He was born delusional and died delusional,” he lied—a habit that brought him far too much comfort. “Least we were able to say goodbye. Gotta be grateful for that.”

“Right…” said Michael with barely hidden disdain. The rest of the ride back was silent as Ryan’s mind returned to Miles’ spellbook. In his youth, he had seen Miles be able to use that book for specific hexes and curses, but he had little talent for such things.

“It’s all in the ritual,” Miles had told him once. “You just have to be more careful with the spell and the materials you make. A strong will and determination also help, Ryan.” At first, Ryan didn’t really care for Miles’ advice and let those memories stew in the back of his mind. Now, at the height of his envy, Ryan ran towards his room with thundering steps and opened the page to his destined future.

Bodysnatching. Taking over another’s body. The stolen youth and missed opportunities wouldn’t matter to Ryan anymore. He would take them all back. He would invade his own son’s body and restart his life—a true renaissance. The thought of that caused shivers to travel down his spine and towards his crotch. His own flesh and blood convulsing as he took back what he rightfully deserved. First, he would break up with Veronica, enjoy the way her soft features so accustomed to smiling twisted into a tearful grimace, and then indulge in youth once more. Perhaps sleep around some and enjoy what fading bits of youthful freedom his son was wasting. Michael seemed like he was in such a hurry to grow up. It honestly depressed Ryan as much as it enraged him.

His thoughts were cut off as someone knocked on his door. Waiting for his erection to calm, he answered, “Comin’.”

On the other side was Veronica, smiling as she usually did. “Hello, Mr. Mitchell,” she greeted with a practiced tilt of her head. “I just wanted to thank you so much for letting me stay with Michael so often. Sometimes it feels like I’m monopolizing his time with you,” she said, tittering. Feeling awkward, Ryan joined in until she stopped.

“You don’t have to worry about that, Veronica,” said Ryan. “It’s not like Michael and I are particularly excited to spend whole days together.” It was a dialogue that wasn’t unfamiliar to Ryan, but he found it more difficult than ever to put even the barest effort into it. When he was so close to finally breaking free, this girl felt the need to drag it out even longer. Her fake smile only enraged him further. “’sides, it’s not like you two are gonna be together for very long anyway. High school and college sweethearts break up all the time.” Ryan couldn’t help but grin as those words escape his lips.

Veronica’s lips tightened, and her smile became even more forced. “I see,” she said, dragging out the last syllable. “Well, please be conscientious enough to have your little mid-life crisis like a normal person would and keep it far away from us. Okay?” She shut the door on him, not waiting for Ryan’s response.

All her actions did was just push Ryan forward. He waited until it was late at night, filling his time by practicing magic circles on his floor. Every time he felt discouraged, he remembered Veronica’s smile and grew inspired. To break that damn girl—that alone would be worth the effort. At around midnight, when the lights to Michael’s room shut off, Ryan got to work. Whispering the enchantment under his breath, his half-naked body groaned and trembled as his soul emerged from the flesh. Little more than a ball of blue flame, Ryan shot through the air towards his son’s room. His spirit phased through the wall with no resistance.

It's mine, all mine, he thought in a twisted excitement as he emerged into Michael’s room. His son lied on his bed, one leg arched and his mouth open as he snored peacefully. Come to daddy, Michael, thought Ryan as he zoomed towards his defenseless son.

Then, he felt something pinch him from behind and drag him away from Michael. “…?!” The only sound he could matter was a shocked cry as Veronica held him back.

“Well, well,” she said, smirking at the ball in her hand. She dropped Ryan onto her other hand, holding him like a baseball bat. “Another piece of shit that wants their dirty soul in my boyfriend.” Grip tightening, she raised Ryan up so that they were face-to-face. “Do you know how many irritating magicians, witches, warlocks, and everything in between try to possess my precious Mikey?” Ryan couldn’t response. All he could do was watch as Veronica’s sweet façade melted into a chilling glare.

Michael blissfully snoozed away.

“The answer is too many, Mr. Mitchell. And you just added yourself onto that list.” Though Ryan couldn’t emote, his soul still shivered at the weight of Veronica’s words. “Don’t worry, I’m above killing. Pathetic people like you aren’t going to learn any lessons in the afterlife. I’ve got a very special punishment for your kind.”

It happened in an instant. Veronica’s body burst into pink flames, still with a tight grip on Ryan’s soul. The flames flew through the house in a speed that Ryan could never hope to match until both spirits dived into Ryan’s body. He fell backwards onto the floor, toes curling and hips thrusting into the air as Veronica forced him back into his flesh and forcibly ripped control from him. With surgical precision, each of Ryan’s limbs fell under her control until she was admiring her form in front of Ryan’s full-view mirror.

“The age really hits you,” said Veronica as she ran her stole hands down her torso. “And all the good muscles gooooone,” she said, pouting in the mirror before giggling to herself. “Y’know DILFs are still in fashion, Mr. Mitchell? You could probably find yourself a nice, thirsty thot to bring home. Maybe even someone willing to settle down.” Hands resting on the back of her bald head, armpits exposed, she sauntered throughout the room. She also, perhaps to humiliate him further in this parade, swung his hips seductively. “But I guess some people just can’t get enough of just living and appreciating what they have, huh? They just have to try and take from others.”

Please, Ryan begged from the recesses of his mind. Just lemme go. I promise I learned my lesson. Lemme go!

“No way,” said Veronica, twirling her finger. All sorts of sex toys, vibrators, and hemp rope appeared on Ryan’s bed. “You won’t learn this lesson until its engraved into your body. And don’t worry, I’ll make sure your flesh won’t ever forget.” Cackling to herself, Veronica picked up a vibrator and eagerly sighed as it began to buzz with a fearsome intensity. “It’s PUNISHMENT TIIIIIIME!”

From anal beads to vibrators to surugadoi, Ryan’s mind and body learned the true extent of a witch’s wrath. His bed, sheets, and even walls became coated in semen which Veronica happily scooped up. “Mustn’t waste a single drop,” she taunted him, shaking his ass as she roced him to crawl on all fours. “If you do, we might have to start allll over again.” He screamed and moan in his prison, unable to deny the enjoyment he felt.

Meanwhile, Michael slept peacefully as his father’s roars of intense pain and pleasure filled the house. Veronica always enjoyed putting a Slumber charm on her boyfriend to make sure he always had a necessary eight hours. It was also convenient when she went galivanting and dolling out punishments to people.

The following morning, Ryan hummed to himself as he fixed up pancakes for the happy couple. Veronica smiled and cuddled close to a happy yet confused Michael. “What’s the occasion?” he asked Ryan.

“N-Nothing, son,” said Ryan as he set down a plate. He rubbed his hand over his face as he spoke. “Just… feel like I really learned something about myself last night, thinking about Miles’ words.” He smiled at Michael. “Any plans for you crazy kids?”

“We’re going to swim at the lake to relax before we got back to school,” said Veronica as she drowned her plate with syrup. “Once hell week is up, we’re thinking of going to a friend’s beach house for the summer. Isn’t that grand?”

“Sounds amazing,” said Ryan while Michael happily accepted the new laid-back atmosphere. Ryan stood and smiled the whole time. Perhaps he could get accustomed to something like this like his son.

“Dad? Aren’t you going to sit down and have breakfast with us?”

A quick glance at Veronica was all that Ryan needed to formulate an answer. “Oh, no, no. I’ve got some work to get done. I’ll have breakfast later.” He left the kitchen, relieved his son didn’t insist that Ryan ate with them. There was no way Ryan would be able to sit down for at least a week.

We did it, fellas! Here’s to 300 followers! Thank you for all the support

If you want to keep helping me and support my hobby, I opened up a ko-fi account for tips. Don’t feel obligated to pay but it’s always appreciated it.

The next goal is 500 followers. Wish me luck and I hope you continue to enjoy my writing.